T is for Temptation (3 page)

She marched in the direction indicated, and Jake nabbed his carry-on from the backseat. Used to being in charge, the one issuing instructions, her commands set his teeth on edge. He caught up with her in quick order, although she seemed oblivious to the squeaking of the carry-on’s wheels.

Greeting wizened men in trunks and T-shirts as she walked, Tee ignored his presence. Jake kept a tich behind her along a path leading to a wall of tinted sliding glass doors forming the entrance to the black-and-white-marble-tiled clubhouse.

The
eleven o’clock
sun lit the surroundings a dazzling white. He squinted as she sprinted to the left, away from him, and he followed her lithe, graceful limbs as she hopped down from the jetty onto a rocky beach, picking her way to an enormous trailer.

This new efficient edge of Tee disturbed and fractured his long-deliberated plans, but it also rocketed his desire skyward. Seduction seemed so much easier if he could protect her and build a fortress for the two of them. Yet the fierce determination evident in her every line, her taut posture, when she flung those gutting and cleaning words sent a shiver of pride through him. Amazon warrior incarnate indeed.

The interior of the clubhouse matched the futuristic exterior; sleek, clean lines with a magnificent mirrored bar to the right of a stainless-steel reception area devoid of a single hint of warmth. A swift survey revealed not a person in sight, and, on the left, Jake spotted a sign for the men’s lockers.

While changing, he realigned his strategies with this new Tee opportunity. A quick mental rundown didn’t result in any definite ideas, but, with the briefest hesitation, Jake decided to go for it, get inside her as often as she’d let him, starting today.

After stowing the carry-on in a locker and pocketing the key, he strode to the still-empty lobby and rocked on his heels. Thrown into a sudden chaotic eruption of fierce lust by the thought of Tee in a bikini, graphic fantasies blurred his vision.

Low-rise?

Halter top?

Thong?

He closed his eyes and prayed.

Images burned his pupils: little triangles covering pert nipples, wide expanses of bare flesh, those long legs curving into slim hips, her saucy rump so meant for a man’s palms, his palms. A thin coat of moisture coated them, and they itched with intent.

“You’re ready.”

Her words and a waft of rosy perfume broke his train of thought. Lids flickering up, he concentrated on taming the rampant erection scraping against his denim shorts.

“Good. Nice bathing suit. Do all Americans sport red, white, and blue clothing?”

Caught off guard, Jake checked his attire, having pulled on the first pair of shorts he’d found. Sure enough, it was something left over from a Fourth of July sale. An internal groan shuddered through him, and his cheeks warmed in embarrassment until he caught her checking out his rear, those amazing amber eyes sliding a notch to the side. When her face flamed, all awkwardness dissipated.

A staggering macho arrogance drove his movements. Jake leaned in, cupped the back of Tee’s head with his palm, swirled his fingers in her silken hair, dipped his mouth, and tasted her honey.

Home, he’d found home.

Tasting Tee consumed every rational thought, focused all his devouring urges, and he drowned in her sugar, an addict’s fix, a junkie’s craving.

“Well, well. Tallulah Inglefield.”

The loud, derisive bark penetrated Jake’s foggy brain, and he lifted his head with great reluctance.

“Not quite the ice princess you like to pretend. Wait till the others hear about this!”

A surgically enhanced buxom female, clad in a thong-style bathing suit and a nipple-bearing top, silhouetted the club’s doorway. Jake gritted his teeth, recognizing the female as one Graziella Leandro, Tony’s sometime paramour.

Timing proved everything in life.

“Jake Mathews. Words fail me. Mister high-and-mighty moral know-it-all. I wish Tony was alive to see this.”

The blonde sneered and waved red-taloned fingers in a disdainful, accusing gesture at their intimate embrace.

When Tee tried to turn around, Jake tightened his arms and whispered for her ears only, “Don’t. Let me handle it. Okay?”

He raked the bimbo from head to toe and said, “If you know what’s good for you, Graziella, you’ll keep your trap shut. One word, one word, about Tee, and you’ll have to deal with me. I can make things very uncomfortable for you.”

The threat made Tee stiffen, and he felt her shudder, and knew he’d have a helluva a time explaining his remark. But, he didn’t allow her a fraction of movement, kept her plastered to him, and relished every second of the intimate contact.

The bimbo snorted, did an about-face, and vanished.

Tee shoved her palms against his chest.

“How do you know her?”

“I’ll explain later. Is the boat in the water?” He took a step back. “Are we ready?”

“Yes,” she replied and shot him a speculative look. “This way.”

Dead quiet commanded their every interaction until they’d been travelling in the luxurious fishing cruiser for twenty minutes. Every second clocking by drew out the explosive sexual strain hovering between them, sluicing away the splendor of the navy Caribbean Sea, Trinidad’s rugged coastline, and the remarkable scenery flying past. Tee commanded the boat with the lazy expertise of long years spent at the helm.

For the millionth time, he wondered if she’d collaborated with Tony, if the two of them set out to swindle him. He didn’t trust his judgment as far as Tee went, his craving for her too potent, too raw, too primitive.

And there was the blasted secretive aspect of her character and the guilt that decorated her face on so many occasions. Then again, maybe his suspicious nature had gone into overdrive because of this desperate need to possess her, this never-before-felt protectiveness.

Perhaps the whole thing came back to the contrasts in her makeup, the endearing vulnerability as opposed to her strong, long-limbed, athletic body, her domain over two-ton stallions versus her subjugation to her mother’s every whim. Jesus. He tugged on an earlobe. Tee did things to him no other woman ever had, and he didn’t like it, not one bit. No one controlled him.

The wide expanse of ocean narrowed as they approached a steep-mountained island decorated with hordes of picturesque bays and vacation homes, which beggared the mind when contemplating the main mansions of the owners.

He cut to Tee standing behind the wheel, hands manipulating the throttle, and he succumbed to the mindless fantasy of her commanding his throttle, her delicate tongue licking his engine. A shudder wrung through him.

Reality intruded as the roar of the boat’s twin props gentled to a hum and the vessel seemed to halt, although it still moved at a clip. The sight before him took his breath away.

A tranquil, horseshoe-shaped bay centered the landscape in front of the cruiser, which lapped and danced over waves created by their earlier speed. Verdant steep inclines drew to a peak as azure sky and emerald mountain collided in an astonishing sparkle where flowering trees shot shimmering gold.

“This is Balmoral Bay,” Tee said, staring straight ahead at a house situated in the precise middle of the bay, a charming Indian-red and white structure with a huge wraparound porch and a long, extensive pier jutting out from the rightmost end.

“This is our Down the Islands home,” she said, and the defensive bleakness in her voice had him off-kilter for long moments. “I used to love this place, until he took it over.”

“Jesus, Tee. Don’t do this. Look at me.”

Frustration laced his growled entreaty, and it came out as a command.

When she didn’t even twist his way, disappointment morphed into desperation, and he hugged her from behind, edging around to see her face.

“What are you angry at? The comment I made to Graziella? The fact I kissed you? What? I can’t read your mind, and it’s damned frustrating to sift through the clues. Look,” he said and drew back, cupping her face with one hand. “I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you at that British Embassy cocktail thing. If you didn’t know it before, you must have realized it last week when we kissed.”

He searched her features and tried to discern the emotions flickering as her eyes widened, pupils dilating and darkening in shocked delight. Her tongue gravitated to the left corner of that sexy mouth, and fear and something else cast those big browns away from him. She wet her lips, and the small movement left him bereft, yawning with need.

“The dolphins are coming in.”

Her soft words soothed an inferno raging inside of him, and she shifted in his arms, her expression a peculiar mix of hope and despair.

“Over there, Jake. See the splashing. Every day, a school of dolphins swim into this bay. As a teenager, I’d swim out an hour before they were due and paddle water, waiting. It’s the most marvelous, magical feeling in the world when they accept you and trust you not to harm them. Instead of avoiding you, they swim to you. Dolphins are so curious. Alain, one of our friends, he made us stay still until they started bumping us with their noses, inviting a response. To this day, it takes only about three days of swimming out, and we’re back to the same childhood pattern. Trust.”

Her anguished café latte eyes met his, and she whispered, “I don’t think I could ever trust another human being again, not after Tony.”