He's the One (11 page)

Chapter Two

H
e led her to an outdoor dance floor lit by nothing more than several strands of twinkling
lights and the full moon. He drew her to him as a bluesy ballad filled the night air.
The atmosphere surrounding the dancers was one of romantic intimacy, something she
could do without if she wanted to keep her mental faculties together.

He pulled her into shocking full body contact before she realized his intention. Okay,
maybe there was an inch or so between them, but she’d seen him dance earlier with
Helene and he had held
her
at arm’s length. Tabby had expected the same.

She’d been wrong, so utterly, beautifully wrong.

A riot of sensations exploded through her and it was all she could do to stay vertical
and breathing as her body reacted to his nearness. He started them swaying to the
soft beat and her hands went of their own volition around his neck. His skin was warm
and his black hair silky against her fingers.

And he smelled delectable. His expensive aftershave was subtle and did not mask his
personal scent, which teased her senses.

“You’re a good dancer.”

“I’m not exactly doing anything,” she said, no hope of tact anywhere on the horizon.
She was too busy trying to focus on not jumping his bones.

But,
man
, how she wanted to. She
ached
to rub certain body parts against his hard, masculine form, and her mouth watered
at the thought of tasting the smooth jawline so temptingly close.

“You’re doing enough.” His voice sounded funny, but she couldn’t concentrate on what
that meant, not with her brain on meltdown.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that while it might feel more incredible than anything
she’d ever known, if she didn’t get out of his arms very soon, she was going to do
something that would lead to her utter humiliation. Like grab his face and kiss him
stupid, or close the inch of distance between them and press hardened nipples against
his sculpted pecs.

Oh, yeah, that would feel good. Too good.

“She looks eighteen, but she’s twenty-four. She teaches kindergarten because she loves
children, but she hasn’t gotten married because she’s never been in love.” The words
came tumbling out in a torrent of jittery need to get this over with. “She’s not dating
anyone special at the moment, but she does date. A lot,” she couldn’t help inserting.
Tabby was a much better relationship bet, not that Calder would see it that way, of
course.

No more than she wanted to date the guy who came in every Wednesday to ask if she
had any new Earl Stanley Gardner books in the shop. Even if he didn’t have that little
quirk, she wasn’t attracted to the mystery fan. Couldn’t help it. Neither could Calder
wanting Helene.

“Her favorite color is yellow, her favorite candy is peanut butter fudge. There’s
a place up the beach that makes some she cannot resist. She looks great in evening
wear, but her preferred date is a trip to the San Diego Zoo, or even Sea World. She’s
a sucker for cotton candy and despite the fact we were raised on the beach, she’s
not all that enamored of the ocean and hates getting sand in her shoes.”

“What?” He stared down at her, but she ducked her head so he couldn’t see her eyes.
“If I might be so bold as to ask, who the bloody hell are you talking about, Tabby?”

“As if you don’t know. Who else would I be yammering on about while dancing with the
sexiest man in the room?” she mumbled at his chest. “My sister, Helene.”

She didn’t mind the information seeking, but she hated the protestations of innocence,
which was why she rarely let on she knew what was happening. She hated being lied
to more than she hated lying. Only, she couldn’t believe what her frustration had
led her into saying this time.
The sexiest man in the room?

Oh, man.

“And you’ve shared this wealth of information with me because why?” he asked, his
precise English accent laced with inexplicable amusement.

Not appreciating being laughed at on top of everything else, she tipped her head back
and glared up at him. “You want to know. I don’t want to spend all evening fencing
with you verbally so I can feed the information in such a way as to preserve your
illusions or my pride.”

“You believe I am dancing with you because I want information from you about your
sister?” he asked in a voice that implied he doubted her sanity.

“Are you trying to tell me you aren’t?”

“Why do you believe this?” he asked instead of giving her a direct answer again.

“You really are a master at conversational misdirection.”

He smiled, the latent amusement still there in his dark eyes, but a surprising determination
was evident, as well. “I am also quite adept at procuring the information I require.
Why do you believe I am dancing with you in order to draw particulars about your sister
from you?”

“That’s what men do. Since I was eighteen and she was a precocious, gorgeous fourteen-year-old
with more friendliness and native grace than I will have when I’m ninety.”

“You believe men approach you only to get closer to your sister?”

“Yes.”

“You are wrong.”

“I made the mistake of believing that a few times, but after ten years I’m no longer
that naive.” She took a deep breath, wishing things could be different. Knowing they
weren’t. “It’s always about Helene. Always.”

“Yet you two are very close.”

“I adore her as much as everyone else does.” His fingers locked at the small of her
back, while one thumb caressed a lazy pattern against her spine. “You aren’t jealous
at all.”

“No. Why should I be? I don’t want to be her. I’m a lot more private. I’d hate a gaggle
of boyfriends following my every move.”

“Your father said you were shy.”

“I don’t like meeting new people. It makes me nervous.”

“You do not appear nervous right now.”

That’s because she was too busy trying not to drool or rub against him like a cat
in heat. “No,” was all she said.

“She is twenty-eight and rather shy. She is not overly fond of candy, but she adores
ice cream, especially coconut macadamia.”

All the air whooshed out of Tabby and she stopped dancing in shock.

Calder didn’t seem to mind. In fact, now that she realized it, he’d danced her off
the deck and into a secluded spot away from the other party guests. She could hear
the ocean, and the sound of wind on the waves stirred her already stimulated senses.

“I’m the one who likes coconut macadamia ice cream.”

“Yes. You also love the beach and will spend hours walking in your bare feet right
at the tide line.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You are not dating anyone special and you haven’t in a long time. You own a small
bookshop on the pier, which you bought with a trust fund left you by a great-aunt.
You quit university after getting a two-year degree instead of a bachelor of arts
like your parents wanted you to.”

“They’ve gotten over that.”

“No, they have not, but they respect your right to make your own choices.”

“Oh.”

“Shall I go on?”

“About what?”

The sound he made was one hundred percent masculine irritation, all of his humor seemingly
having taken a vacation.

“Very well. You are quite blunt with people you know, kind to strangers even if they
intimidate you, and your favorite color is sea green. Oh, yes, and you love the opera
and theater. You adore yellow roses, but I personally think you should consider the
beauty of the scarlet blooms.”

“Red is for passion, yellow is for everlasting love,” she said in a dazed voice.

“Ahh . . . that explains it. You are a romantic.”

“I’m . . .” She had no idea what to say. It sounded as if he’d been pumping someone
else for information on her.

“Your father is very proud of you, if a bit exasperated at times, and is more than
willing to wax poetic on the subject of his eldest daughter.”

“You asked him . . . about me?”

“Yes. I have also discussed you at length with Helene, who thinks as highly of you
as you do of her.”

“Why?” she asked, stupidly maybe, but with a genuine need to know.

“I should think that was obvious. I want you, Tabitha Payton, and I intend to have
you.” His Cary Grant eyes glittered down at her, the words coming out in his precise
English accent, somehow making them even more sexy.

She shook her head, trying to clear it, convinced she couldn’t have heard him say
what she’d thought he’d said.

“Oh, yes . . . and I think you want me, too, in spite of your rather blatant attempt
to toss your sister in my path.”

Calder watched in fascination as multiple emotions chased across Tabby’s expressive
features.

Shock. Disbelief. Hope. Pleasure. Desire.

It was the desire he reacted to.

He pulled her into his body, pressing her soft curves against flesh hungry for the
feel of her. He had wanted the little darling since the first time he saw her walking
along the beach close to sunset. He’d been sitting on the deck of his recently inherited
house, trying to determine what he wanted his future to hold, when she came into his
line of vision.

His first thought had been the foolishness of a woman walking alone on an almost deserted
beach; his second thought had been both carnal and imaginative.

The red glow from the fading sun had outlined her luscious form while a gentle wind
stirred her dark blond hair around her shoulders and face. She had looked both ethereal
and incredibly sensual. Simply watching her had made him hard.

Although her body had called to him like a siren, it had been the sense of solitude
surrounding her that did not smack of loneliness, which had cemented his ache to possess
her. Her words tonight had only fueled that fiery need.

She’d spent her adult life fending off her sister’s boyfriends and yet did not resent
the other woman.

Tabitha Payton was a very special woman.

However, she was oblivious to her uniqueness and appeal. While he found that refreshing,
it was also frustrating. Seducing her body would be quite easy. It was something he
was very good at. However, making her believe she was the woman he wanted above all
others might turn out to be bloody difficult.

“I want you.” He brushed her lips with his, a mere whisper of touching, nothing too
passionate. Not yet. “Tell me you want me, too.”

She quivered against him, her lips full and soft in preparation for the kiss her feminine
instincts knew was coming even if her mind did not. “I . . .”

“I do not want Helene.”

She licked her lips and stared at him, big green eyes begging reassurance while her
mouth remained stubbornly mute.

“Believe me.”

“But everyone wants her,” she said, sounding bemused and disbelieving.

“Not everyone. I want
you
. Now tell me you want me.”

She’d pulled her hair up in a sleek French twist and it framed a heart-shaped face
creased in doubt. “If I tell you I want you, you could hurt me.”

“Never.”

“Not physically, I know that . . . but if I say it, you’ll know . . . and then you
could turn away and say you never meant me to take you seriously.”

He didn’t think she knew what she was saying. She sounded dazed and her words came
out in disjointed bursts.

“Has that happened before?”

“Yes.”

Bloody idiotic men she’d known
. “I mean what I say. There is no mistake. I am quite serious when I say you are the
one woman I want.”

“The
one
woman?” She laughed like it was a joke. With a suddenness that shocked him, his patience
gave out and he kissed her, claiming her mouth with hot passion and a lot less finesse
than a man of his talents should exercise. However, there was no room for refinement
in this kiss. She belonged to him in a way he neither understood nor would deny, and
he felt a remarkably savage need to imprint that truth on her body.

The only option available to him at the moment was a kiss, and so he took it.

Her mouth remained impassive in surprise for several seconds, and then she kissed
him back so hard his teeth ground against his inner lip. He opened his mouth and licked
the seam of her ardent mouth with his tongue. She jerked in his arms and went completely
still, like a fawn drinking from a stream for the first time.

Only he was the one doing the sipping.

The kiss changed as he revered sweetly compliant lips that assured him of the desire
she had been incapable of voicing. Deliciously female, her mouth was unconsciously
sensuous in its startled immobility, and yet temptingly pliable.

Perfect.

But not nearly enough.

He needed more than her lips. He wanted all of her, and he would have her soon or
he would go mad.

He undid her hair, pulling out pins and fingering through the silken strands because
he needed to touch her this way. He massaged her head and she moaned against his lips,
pressing her body intimately to his. That small sound, coupled with background noise
that had suddenly grown louder, brought him back to his senses.

They could not do what he wanted to do with her out here, and regardless of how much
his body craved hers, it was too soon. He did not want to spook her.

He pulled away, gently removing her hold on him. She stood there looking shell-shocked,
her lips swollen from his kisses. He wanted nothing more than to pull her back into
his arms, but he forced himself to refrain. Now was not the time.

The music had been turned up. Playing at a much faster tempo than it had been, it
filled the silence between them.