Seduced by Sunday (12 page)

“Where’s Michael?” Val whispered.

“Michael?” The name didn’t register.

Val lifted his left eyebrow. “The man you’re here with.”

Right. “He’s a . . .” Damn, he smelled edible.

Val’s palm captured her neck and guided her to her feet. “He’s
just
a friend, isn’t he, Margaret?”

The way Val’s lips moved drew her closer. The need to taste them, feel them on hers was impossible to walk away from. “If I told you we were more than friends . . .”

Val’s eyes traveled from her lips to her eyes. “Then I’d have to let you go.” He loosened his fingers on her neck, but instead of moving away, Meg leaned in.

“Sounds like you might regret that decision.” She laid a hand on his firm chest. The man wasn’t soft under his stuffy suits.

“I don’t pursue another man’s woman.”

He wasn’t moving away.

“Good to hear, Masini.” She lifted her lips close to his, felt his breath mix with hers. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

Val hesitated for a nanosecond, and then took her lips. His closed-mouth kiss started off soft, like a hesitant man worried about rushing. Yet when Val wrapped his free hand around her waist, and his body fit against hers, Meg opened for him, encouraged him to taste.

When he did, she lost it. He tasted of bourbon and sex. God help her, she wanted to crawl into his kiss and explore it for hours. The man kissed like he was on a mission. And maybe he was. Who knew if Val Masini made it a weekly occurrence to kiss a new woman? Somehow, she didn’t think so. He was too reserved most of the time.

Not now . . . not with his tongue exploring hers and his strong hands pressing the small of her back closer. Every hard ridge of the man met with every soft curve of hers.

The kiss went on until she found her chest tightening with a familiar warning. Sexual excitement had to be paced or she might find herself in a full-blown asthma attack. A frustrating fact of her life in the last few years. One that kept her single most of the time, her encounters lukewarm at best.

Val was threatening the air in her lungs with just a kiss.

A heated
knock her on her ass
kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.

She eased away and Val chased her lips.

She tried to slow her breathing, couldn’t catch a deep breath. “Wait,” she managed, pulling away.

“Too much,
cara
?”

You have no idea.

She reached out, felt her head spin a little. Her inhaler was in her purse. Her next two breaths didn’t satisfy the need for air. Instead of trying to fake her way out of his arms, she gave him a tiny shove. “Can’t. Breathe.”

He smiled, then the smile fell when he realized she wasn’t being cute. “Are you OK?”

“Purse.”

He guided her to the bench and handed her the clutch.

The rescue inhaler did its job, and she managed a few deep breaths and felt her pace slow.

Val knelt beside her, watching with his hands at her sides. “Are you all right?”

Embarrassed, she nodded. “It doesn’t always come on like that.”

Concern brought his eyebrows together. “Should I call a medic?”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “No.” The tightness passed, slowly. “I can usually avoid this. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Val squeezed her thighs. “I want you breathless, but not like that.”

Meg smiled. “You can add lethal kisser to your resume.”

He captured her hands, brought them to his lips. “Is it always like that?”

“No. Just when . . .” Admitting she was turned on by a simple kiss didn’t feel right, not after a first kiss.

Holy crap . . . she’d just kissed Val Masini. And here she was on an island posing as Michael’s girlfriend. What was wrong with her?

She tried to stand up. “I should go.”

Val pushed her back down. “Wait.”

“I really shouldn’t be out here with you . . . like this.”

His gaze narrowed. “You said you didn’t belong to him.”

“I don’t. But that isn’t the point.”

There was knowledge behind his eyes, and a sense of confidence that Meg wasn’t used to with the men she’d been with. “OK, Margaret. I’ll let you run away . . . for now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means we’re not done.”

“Cocky much, Masini?”

He didn’t answer, just stood, and helped her to her feet.

“I can make it on my own,” she said when he started walking alongside her.

“I’m sure you can. But I’m not leaving your side until you’re at the door to your villa.”

Arguing took too much effort, and besides, she wasn’t stupid. Her lungs were still a little tight, and exerting herself without someone close by was a recipe for disaster. “Fine.”

Val laughed, and kept a hand on her back as he walked her to the golf cart to take her home.

Chapter Nine

“Someone came in late last night,” Michael started in while he poured a morning cup of coffee.

“Someone turned in early last night,” Meg countered.

Michael took the first sip of his coffee and closed his eyes with the pleasure of it. “Damn I feel good.”

“Sex will do that to ya.”

Michael wiggled his eyebrows and sat at the kitchen counter.

“Where is Ryder?”

“He’s an early riser. Decided on a morning jog on the beach. Utah is surprisingly shy of shoreline.”

Meg rested her chin on her hands. “I don’t think I’ve seen you glow, Michael.”

He snapped up in mock surprise. “Men don’t glow.”

“Bullshit on that.”

Michael stared into his coffee cup for a few seconds. “I wonder, sometimes, what it would be like to live with someone . . .”

“Like Ryder?”

“Like Ryder.” The smile on his face faded.

“You know, Michael, the only way you’ll ever know how that would work is if you did it.”

“My career would be over.”

“You don’t know that. Hollywood spins things to match their needs all the time. Who says you can’t spin what the world knows . . . or what the world thinks it knows.”

He was thinking about it. That, Meg could see.

When his eyes started to scowl, Meg changed the subject by confessing her evening’s sins. “I kissed Val.”

Michael’s jaw slacked open.

“He kissed me, actually. Then the oxygen level dropped and damn it . . . but yeah, we kissed.”

Michael was smiling, enjoying her unease with her confession. “How was it?”

“Before my lungs seized? Great. I mean, have you looked at the man?”

“Lots of lips, just the right amount of tongue?”

Meg squeezed her eyes shut, started to laugh. “How did you know?”

“Just a guess.”

She blew out a sigh. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Why not? He’s sexy, straight. Perfect for you.”

“I’m here with you.”

“Something tells me you didn’t have an audience.”

“We were alone.”

“So what’s the problem? Val would be breaking his own rules by spilling the encounter. He doesn’t strike me as a kiss-and-tell kind of guy.”

She still didn’t feel right about it.

“Listen,” Michael said. “Karen and I were married for a year and a half. Neither of us were involved with anyone and no one got hurt. You’re here as a date. Last time I looked that didn’t amount to jack in this day and age.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Kiss him, sleep with him, do whatever you want with the man. I have no claim and wouldn’t say otherwise regardless of what might come of this vacation. Besides, it isn’t like there are a bunch of cameras snapping pictures and asking questions. This place is off the map. I know I’m coming back.”

Some of the tension inside Meg’s chest eased. “With Ryder?”

“Maybe.”

The bell to the front door of the villa rang with a noise that surprised the both of them.

Michael answered while Meg watched.

“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Wolfe. Miss Rosenthal has mail.”

Mail? On vacation?

Michael took the envelopes from the man and closed the door.

“I thought vacations were no-mail zones.”

Michael glanced at the three envelopes before handing them over.

“One is from your sister.” Judy’s handwriting was as familiar as her own. The return address, however, was illegible.

Meg tore into Judy’s first.

Hey, Livin’ the High Life on Someone Else’s Dime,

Two things since I can’t pick up a freakin’ phone and call like any normal person in this century . . . First, I’ve heard NOTHING about you or Mike since you left. I’m watching every platform, as is the ball and chain and his partner.

Meg knew that meant Rick and Neil. Both had a background in military intelligence and could be trusted with her life.

Second . . . the man you asked me about. I’m not liking the information I’m finding. Or not finding, as the case may be. Not sure why you’re asking about him, but “don’t trust him.” Those are the ball and chain’s words.

Hope you’re having a fantastic time.

Can’t wait to hear all about it . . . or not hear all about it.

Give my bro a kiss for me.

J

Meg scratched her head.

“What is it?”

“Judy says hi.” Meg let the kiss go for now. “Said all is silent in the real world.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Yeah.”

“Then why the frown?”

“I asked her to check on that Alonzo guy.”

Michael frowned. “What did Judy find?”

“She didn’t say. Just suggested that Rick and Neil said not to trust the man.”

Michael turned, leaned a hip against the counter. “Not a problem since the man isn’t here.”

“I guess.”

The back door to the villa opened, catching both their attention. Ryder stepped into the living room, half-winded. “Utah has nothing on this place,” he said.

“Sparkling water and ocean breezes . . . I have to agree.” Michael opened a cupboard and removed a cup. “Coffee?”

“Love it. Morning, Meg.”

“Good morning.”

She opened the second envelope. This one didn’t have an off-island address.

My mother is a dictator in the kitchen . . . fair warning.

Val

“Damn.”

“What?”

She’d forgotten about the cooking lesson. “I-I have a debt to pay.” She glanced at the clock. She still had time for a shower. Makeup and polish would have to wait.

Without thought, she gathered the mail and rushed from the room.

A quick shower, a pair of shorts, and a little mascara, and Meg fled the villa.

Simona Masini wore an apron and already had Val’s kitchen brimming with fresh tomatoes, flour, and eggs when Meg arrived.

The scene was out of a horror movie. Well, Meg’s idea of macabre, in any event.

“Sorry I’m late,” Meg apologized as she walked in through the back door.

Mrs. Masini offered a placating smile. “I have all day.” The older woman handed Meg an apron. “Put this on.”

“All day?” Meg wrapped the thing around her waist, asked herself if she’d ever worn an apron before.
Nope.

“Don’t look so glum, Margaret. You appear to be a bright woman. I’m sure I can teach you the basics of pasta.”

Mrs. Masini opened a huge rubber container and dumped several cups of flour right on the smooth counter. “We start with the pasta so it can dry while we prepare the sauce.”

“When you start with dry pasta, you’re ahead of the game.”

It was hard not to laugh at the older woman’s scowl. “I will show you first, and you will follow. Wash your hands.”

Meg moved to the sink on autopilot, did as she was told. “I have to warn you, Mrs. Masini. The kitchen and I are sworn enemies. Even my cookies come from a bag.”

“Doesn’t your mother cook? Make anything from scratch?”

Meg thought of the potted marijuana plants and the drying racks her parents used even before it was legal. “She dried her own herbs.”

Mrs. Masini wasn’t impressed. She made a fist and stuck it in the middle of her pile of flour and started cracking eggs into the center of her mini flour volcano. “Pasta is the most basic of foods. The recipe easily memorized.” Her hands whizzed over the flour, added a dash of salt, and something else. “Why are you standing there watching?” She waved a messy hand to the other side of the counter. “Start with the flour.”