Blame It on Paradise (6 page)

She sat up on her knees and took him by the shoulders. Kissing him, she guided him onto the bed. She took one of the condoms and used her teeth to open the packet. Her silky hair tickled over Jack’s torso when she lowered her head, using her mouth to slide the condom onto Jack’s steely flesh before boldly straddling him. With his hands at her hips, she completed their union with one hard thrust that made her jaw clamp shut.

“I’m sorry.” His touch light, Jack laid a hand along her jawline. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He swallowed back a gasp. The apology was the one coherent thought he could express through the mindless pleasure of being locked inside her snug heat.

“You didn’t.” The muscles of her abdomen and hips contracted and relaxed in concert with her deep, raspy breathing. “It’s just…it’s been a while for me.”

She allowed herself to acclimate to his size, to the vastness of him within her. When she began to move her hips, to undulate upon him in a steadily increasing rhythm, Jack welcomed the possibility that he could literally die from pleasure.

It had been a while for him, too, so long that his flesh couldn’t remember ever having been treated so well. Lina cloaked him with her body and Jack wrapped his arms around her. Her weight upon him and her heat around him carried him to an unfamiliar place of keen physical awareness. Her hair formed a black tent beneath which she kissed him. Bodies locked from lips to hips, limbs intertwined and hearts throbbing in syncopation, they existed in a paradise of two.

No longer able to hold back the eruption building within him, Jack clasped Lina to him and rolled her beneath him. He supported the small of her back with one hand, raising her hips just enough to give him complete control. She responded with a whimper of gratification, digging her fingertips into the hard meat of his hip and buttocks. Jack squeezed his eyes shut tight and buried his face in the sweat-glossed warmth of her neck.

Yoga had honed Jack’s control to the point where he could prolong this exquisite torture for both of them. He braced his weight on his left elbow and gazed at the way passion shaped her features, and the vision fueled him. He shifted his hips a little and moved his right knee a bit higher. The subtle change in position created delicious friction that sent Lina into a breathless delirium.

Her body clamped around him, inside and out, and tore his release from him. He stiffened, his abdominal muscles bunching against her flat belly. He cried out and breathed hard in her ear, his fists clenched at the sides of her head as spasm after spasm seized him.

“Lina,” he exhaled loudly, pressing his lips to the tiny beads of perspiration glossing her shoulder before catching her gaze. “Dear God, that was…what did you do to me?”

She took his chin and steered his mouth to hers. She let her kisses speak for her, telling him how he had done just as well by her.

Soft kisses and tender caresses eased them back into their separate selves, and neither of them spoke to disrupt the tranquility. Snuggling into Jack’s embrace upon the tangled bed sheet, Lina laughed lightly as she rested her head upon his shoulder.

“Do I even want to know what’s so funny?” he asked.

“I was just thinking.” With the tip of her finger, she circled the tawny disk of flesh capping Jack’s right pectoral muscle.

“About what?”

“About you.”

“Do tell.”

“I thought you would be an utter stiff when I saw you in town.” She ran her hand along his thigh. “A sexy stiff, but a stiff just the same. Turns out I was right. And wrong.”

Jack grasped her buttock to press her hips to his as he rolled onto his side to face her. “Thank you. I think.”

He lifted a thin lock of her hair from her forehead and delicately draped it over her shoulder, giving himself an unobstructed view of her face. With her straight hair, light eyes and dark skin, she was truly an original, like no other woman he had ever seen. He inwardly celebrated the spin of the genetic dial that had produced such a visually stunning final product.

“You’re staring,” Lina said softly.

“You’re a curiosity.”

“Am I?”

“Your hair and your eyes…they’re so unusual for someone with such dark skin.”

“My hair comes from one of my grandmothers,” she told him. “My skin color comes from the other. She was an Aborigine. She lived with her mum in Australia until she was relocated. She was sent to live with a white Australian family in the Northern Territory when she was eleven. She was fourteen when the family moved to Darwin.”

Jack kinked an eyebrow. “Relocated?”

“My grandmum’s father was white. English. Her mother was Aborigine. At the time, the Australian government was concerned about an unwanted third race being created through the intermarriage of Aborigines and Caucasians. Light-skinned or half-caste Aboriginal children were forcibly removed from their parents and sent to live in camps. They were schooled, adopted by white families, and later married to Caucasians. The belief at the time was that by the third generation of intermarriage with whites, the Aboriginal blood would no longer manifest itself.”

“If you can’t kill them, breed them out,” Jack murmured. “It’s an ancient form of genocide.”

“As you’re seeing now,” Lina smiled, “nature has a way of reasserting herself.”

Jack stroked her cheek, his thumb moving lightly over her lower lip. “Her work is quite exquisite.”

“Indeed,” she agreed, studying Jack’s face as intently as he studied hers. She stroked his hair from his forehead and admired the way sleepiness softened the serious set of his features. Lina wondered if the honest, open emotion she saw in his clear gaze was his or a reflection of her own. Jack DeVoy had gotten under her skin in more ways than she’d anticipated. The longer she basked in the light of his eyes, the less secure she felt lying in his arms. “I should go now.” She started to shrug her way out of his embrace.

“You can’t.”

She stilled. The lock of her hair slowly slid from her shoulder, and the movement reminded Jack of the dying note of a lovely song.

“What I mean is…” He cleared his throat to camouflage his sudden anxiousness. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Why?”

He shifted his head closer to hers on the pillow they shared and spent a long moment pondering his answer. He couldn’t tell her that she was like a narcotic, an exotic, addictive drug that he’d go itchy without.

“Jack? Why can’t I leave?”

He rose on his elbow and splayed his hand over her heart. “Because I’m not finished seducing you.”

CHAPTER 5

Lina woke up to the pale grey of early dawn and the fragrance of flowers on the humid breeze. She rose slightly on her left elbow to peer at Jack, who slept with his back to the patio doors. His shoulder blocked the sleek, Sharper Image mini alarm clock on the nightstand, but judging from the brightening sky, it was about five
a.m.

Time to go,
she thought, although her body made no effort to obey the directive.

She spent a moment watching Jack sleep. She had always considered her lovely little island to be nothing less than paradise, but she had never expected to discover a god walking among the mortals. She lightly stroked her fingers over Jack’s shoulder and arm, along his torso and his waist. The terrain of his sculpted physique was irresistible. He was that rare male creature who had a fantastic body along with the stamina and imagination to make the most pleasing use of it.

Goosebumps rose on his skin and his muscles twitched when her fingers glided over his abdomen and along the sensitive arrangement of flesh resting on his right thigh. It sprang to rigid life and saluted the new day under Lina’s careful touch. She thought of a dozen creative acts she could have performed to rouse the rest of Jack DeVoy, but her sense of responsibility—and the condom wrappers on the nightstand, the floor, the bathroom sink and the edge of the lagoon—forced reason to prevail.

She had to get to work early, and starting anew with Jack would knock her entire day off schedule.

After setting a chaste kiss on his forehead, she slipped out of bed. She eased open the patio doors, stepped over the remains of the screen door, and looked back over her shoulder to see Jack shifting onto his stomach. Affection surged through her as her eyes devoured the sight of his bare shoulders, back, buttocks and legs. Even his feet were sexy enough to make her take a tiny step back toward the bedroom.

Jack’s right arm went under his pillow while his left slowly swept the fresh vacancy beside him. His head was rising from the pillow when Lina scurried away on tiptoe, pausing only to snatch her discarded skirt from the patio table.

His vision bleary with sleep, Jack turned his head in time to see a multicolored flutter of silk disappearing from his line of sight. With a heavy sigh, he nestled his head deeper into the pillow. He inhaled and breathed deeply of Lina’s scent, but then had to roll slightly onto his left hip to accommodate the lengthening ridge of flesh between his legs.

Dear God
, he thought.
If her scent can do this to me, what’s going to happen the next time I
see
her? And touch her…

He groaned into the pillow bunched at his face. “There must be something in the water that’s making me act this way. Or maybe it’s in the tea,” he chuckled dryly. Nothing else could explain his wholehearted attraction and interest in a simple island girl he’d only just met.

Once his body calmed, he pulled himself out of bed, spent a few minutes giving himself a good long stretch, and then collected the condom wrappers as he made his way to the bathroom. Even after his exertions with Lina and after only a few hours of sleep, he stepped into the hot shower feeling fully rested and relaxed. Among the many things Lina had given him was a renewed sense of confidence as he turned his mind from his night with her to his morning with J.T. Marchand.

* * *

“I know why you’re here, fella, and I’m telling you right now that you’re gonna leave empty-handed.” Levora punctuated her words with sharp pokes of her finger to Jack’s chest.

He stole an anxious peek at his watch. He had ten minutes to get to the Marchand Building, which meant that he had no time at all for whatever had Levora’s finger locked and loaded. “Could we talk about this in an hour or so? I really can’t miss my appointment this morning.” He would have hurried on down the street if Levora hadn’t practically bodytackled him into a bright white mailbox. Curious passersby paused on the congested sidewalk to watch the spectacle the pair made.

“I know what your appointment is about, you low-down dirty schemer!” Levora, her small frame swallowed by an oversized red T-shirt, jutted her chin at Jack. “This isn’t the first time that a slick salamander has come from the States to steal what I’m not willing to sell. I should have known what you were here for the minute I saw you. I must be getting dumb in my old age!”

“Listen.” Jack forced himself to remain patient. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can it wait? Please?”

“Who sent you, Jack? Is that even your real name?”

He threw a glance down the road. The Marchand Building was less than a hundred yards away, and Jack’s patience evaporated. “What the hell are you accusing me of, Levora?”

She blinked, stunned by his fierce tone and the way his upper body seemed to swell. She took a small step back, but stubbornly clenched her hands into fists as she said, “You came to Darwin to get my muffins!”

Jack’s face screwed itself into an expression of confusion and indignation that would have been comical, had he not been so exasperated.

“I just assumed that you were here for the Darwin mint tea, like the rest of those suited knuckleheads, but I haven’t seen you with a single box of the stuff. That got me thinking. Most of the knuckleheads are gone, but you’re still here. Why?” She answered herself. “You’re after the recipes for my muffins, that’s why! You’ve had my muffins every day since you got here, and you seemed awfully fidgety when you were at my place yesterday. You would have stolen them right out of my kitchen, wouldn’t you, if I had turned my back long—”

“For God’s sake, Levora, this is only my third day here, and they’re good muffins,” Jack interjected. He’d devoured three of Levora’s muffins—the coconut-lime, lemon-ginger and kiwi-banana—between rounds on the floor and in the lagoon with Lina. “I didn’t know that I should have asked your permission before I ate them. They come to my cottage every day. I thought they were part of the owner’s hospitality.”

Levora stared into his eyes. “You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?”

“Yes. My name—my
real
name—is Jackson DeVoy. I work out of Boston.” He looked at his watch again and swore under his breath.

Levora’s forehead wrinkled in suspicion. “Are you with Iggy’s Bread of the World?”

“Whose bread of the what?”

“Iggy’s. My daughter’s up in school in Massachusetts. Iggy’s is the only baking company in Boston I can think of that would be interested in my recipes. Or even good enough to duplicate them.”

Jack started walking toward the Marchand Building. “I’m not here for your recipes, although I can truly understand why someone would try to steal them. I’m not in the food industry.”

Levora grabbed his briefcase, stopping him once more. “My business partner would never sell my recipes without my consent, Jack. Remember that when you’re in your important meeting at the Marchand factory. I don’t appreciate some big-headed American lawyer trying to wrangle a deal behind my back.”

Jack tried to tug his briefcase from her grip. “I’m not here to steal your muffins, Levora. I promise.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me about this, would you?”

“No,” issued from between his gritted teeth.

“But you’re a lawyer,” she argued, tightening her hold.

“I’m really good at what I do, Levora. I don’t have to lie to get what I want.”

“Well, then…okay.” She still sounded unsure. But to Jack’s relief, she released his briefcase.

He gave her a quick smile and fell into a brisk stride. A moment later, Levora caught the tail of his jacket, pulling him up short. “If I ever wanted to sell my recipes, and I’m not saying I do, mind you, could you represent me?”

“Levora, I promise I’ll do anything you want if you’ll just let me go. Deal?”

The instant she freed him, he raced off.

Levora formed a megaphone with her hands and hollered after him. “I’m holding you to your promise, Jack!”

* * *

Lina shook beads of water from a bouquet of fresh Dickson roses before placing the heavy mauve blossoms in the straw basket slung over her left arm. She thanked the florist before leaving his stall and merging into the flow of foot traffic passing through the marketplace. Stalls and kiosks filled with fresh produce, baked goods, handmade crafts, clothing and souvenirs lined the center of Main Street in the town center. A slow-moving river of pedestrians ambled in opposite directions on either side of the outdoor market, which competed for tourist dollars with the shops, cafes and restaurants in the permanent structures lining Main Street.

Lina was ready to leave the town center to stop by Levora’s when, through the swarm of tourists, she spied her newest favorite face at an outdoor café. Jack sat alone at a small wrought-iron table, a notebook computer opened before him. He sat back in his chair and looked off to one side as he spoke into a cell phone the size of a credit card. His tie had been loosened, his top button undone and he looked like he was wilting within his gray wool suit. But for the staccato movements of his lips as he spoke into the phone, his face was rigid.

He’s in the middle of something,
Lina thought, taking a hesitant step in his direction. She was still deciding whether to approach him when he shifted his gaze and spotted her.

His face instantly transformed. His brow smoothed out, his eyes widened and sparked to life and his mouth softened as he spoke a few more words before clapping the phone shut. He leaned forward, closed his laptop and he smiled. It was a tiny smile, like the glimmer of the sun behind a cloud emptied of rain, but it sent a luscious current of warmth through Lina.

She started for his table, sidestepping a bicyclist and hopping out of the path of a noisy group of Japanese tourists. She used her basket to push through the line of patrons waiting to be seated at the café. When she reached him, Jack stood and pulled out a white wrought-iron chair for her.

“Special occasion?” he asked when she sat her basket of roses on the black and silver streaked schist tile at their feet.

She crossed her slender arms on the table and leaned on them. “Levora uses the petals to infuse the milk for her rose and champagne muffins. They’re for some actor’s wedding in Sydney tomorrow.”

“Levora and her muffins,” Jack grumbled with a shake of his head.

Lina gave him a questioning look.

“I ran into her this morning. And I ended up missing something very important.”

“I’m sure it’s not the end of the world, Jack.”

She smiled, and he couldn’t help responding with one of his own. She was a fast-acting antidote to the frustration-induced headache throbbing behind his left eye. His day had gone from bad to nightmarish after he’d sprinted away from Levora. He’d arrived at the Marchand factory in time for the most unhelpful receptionist in the world to tell him that J.T., a stickler for punctuality, had left the building three minutes prior to Jack’s arrival. Not only that, Marchand would be out of the office with no plans to return until Monday morning.

And it was only Thursday.

He had booked his fourth—and hopefully final—appointment for Monday, and then he’d walked back to the marketplace. He’d parked himself at a table at the Taiko Café, raided the emergency aspirin supply he kept in his briefcase, and he’d begun the painful process of updating Reginald.

The conversation had not gone well. To complete the failure of Jack’s day, Reginald had gone so far as to utter the “B” word—again threatening to send Burke down to assist him.

Determined to connect with J.T. Marchand or die in the attempt, Jack had settled into combat mode and begun mapping out his strategy to Reginald.

And then he’d seen her. A fleeting glimpse of her face through a drift of idly moving bodies had drained the fight right out of him. He’d ended his call to Reginald in mid-sentence and focused on Lina.

The stark whiteness of her halter top glowed against the luscious darkness of her skin, and the frayed threads of her faded denim cut-offs caressed her thighs. Electric highlights crackled in her sleek ponytail. The spongy soles of her black flip-flops had slapped out an announcement of her arrival at Jack’s table before she’d taken the chair he offered. Once she’d smiled her thanks, Jack completely forgot all about Reginald Wexler and J.T. Marchand.

“You’ve been here for three days.” Lina’s slim fingers pinched off a piece of Havarti cheese sticking from the interior of the braided roll set before Jack. “How much of my island have you actually seen?”

“Main Street, mostly.” He took a long swallow of the tea he’d ordered over an hour ago. It was warm and watered down with melted ice cubes, yet it invigorated him almost as much as Lina’s company. “And a sunrise over Tuanui Bay.”

“You learned the name of my favorite place. Very good.” She drummed her elegant fingers on her forearm. “Jack…”

“Yes?” he chuckled after she spent a long, silent moment staring at him with one eyebrow raised.

She spent another quiet moment chewing the bit of his sandwich. “Let me show you paradise.”

Her sultry words, shaped by her lovely lips, achieved the impossible. For the first time since his first day at Coyle-Wexler, Jack DeVoy turned off his cell phone.

* * *

After a quick shopping excursion that had left Jack with a new, island-chic wardrobe, Lina had embarked on her mission with a vengeance, showing him Darwin’s past and present. A long walk in the Rekohu Reserve had taken him back in time to an adolescent Darwin dominated by giant palms, tree ferns and birdlife that existed nowhere else in the world. An hour or two spent in the tidal pool at the base of an inactive volcano, a crowded tourist spot, had given him the chance to watch Lina frolic in her native habitat. Seeing her dive in and out of the sunlit waterfalls in an iridescent blue-green bathing suit was like watching the ballet of a mermaid. Jack had swum with her behind the wall of water, where she shared the secret of a cathedral-like cave, and he had so wanted to ease her onto the damp clay floor and love her as he had the night before.

Lina saved the best activity for last, and Jack was thrilled when they chartered a sleek, 32-foot fiberglass power boat and took to the ocean, but once they lost sight of the shore, Jack found himself falling in love anew with the motion of the boat and the freedom of being on the open sea.