The Trouble with Mojitos (11 page)

He bent his head to kiss her, and he tasted of rum and coconut and sea salt. Her stomach tightened. He feathered kisses down her neck and along her collarbone, and she turned into him, wrapping her hands around the stunning strength of his erection.

He removed her hands. “If you keep that up, I might not be accountable for my actions. And sea water and sand are not conducive to what I’d want to do to you.”

“We managed yesterday.”

“I was desperate yesterday.”

“And you’re not desperate now?” She rubbed herself against him.

He growled low in his throat. “Don’t play with fire unless you want to get burned.”

She grinned. “Oh, I want to get burned.” She slipped away, splashing through the waves, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure he followed.

He caught her up in the shallows, grabbing her from behind as she squealed and tried to wriggle away, but he held her fast, picking her up and carrying her out of the water to the enormous rocks that sheltered the little cove.

He deposited her on her hands and knees on a rock. She tried to face him, but he held her still. “Don’t move,” he commanded, laying a firm hand on her back.

She didn’t.

The sun dried her skin, and the light sea breeze stung a pleasurable awareness to her exposed parts as he moved away to search through the clothes they’d strewn on the beach. She heard the familiar rip of foil and her stomach muscles clenched in anticipation. Then he was behind her, his hands on her hips.

She gasped as he entered her, gasped again as he pulled out and the breeze caressed her in his place. She arched her back, bracing herself against the hard rock as he set a steady rhythm and she gave herself over to the sensation, closing her eyes so that every sense was focussed on this moment, on this joining of two bodies, on the intense waves of pleasure roiling through her.

Her orgasm ripped through her, purifying as fire. She felt like a new person indeed. It was impossible to remember past mistakes when in the grip of making a beautiful new one.

***

As the sunlight faded, they climbed the stairs to the villa and sat on a swing chair on the frangipani-scented patio, limbs entwined, to watch the sun set across the sea. Behind the villa, the hills turned a red-gold in the dying light, and lights began to flicker on in the shacks hidden between the trees in the valley beyond. From the distance, the soft, compelling sound of a steel band drifted up to them on the breeze.

Darkness swallowed them, but neither wanted to break this moment to get up and switch on the lights. So they rocked gently, and watched the moonlight falling on the beach far below, and held each other.

The music of the steel drums faded into the darkness leaving only the sound of the ocean, the song of night insects, and the distant call of a bat. The waves moved in on the offensive, then retreated, much like her and Rik, an endless backwards and forwards, in and out like the tide, neither gaining ground. Making no progress. Going nowhere.

High up in the cloudless sky a shooting star shot across the heavens. She closed her eyes to make a wish.

“What is it you want, Mackenzie Cole?” Rik asked.

She wanted the same as every woman. She wanted more than a temporary island romance. She wanted a man who’d stick by her side no matter what. And she wanted a home and a family and respect.

She opened her eyes. “If you were on Twitter, you’d know that already.”

When Kenzie woke, the first thing she saw was the sky. Not the crystal clear, cerulean sky she’d grown accustomed to, but a heavy sky the colour of charcoal, filled with roiling crowds.

Rik had predicted a storm. How fitting that it should cast a pall over her final day.

She rolled against him and cuddled into his side. She could practically hear the distant wall clock ticking out the seconds, counting down the time she had left with him.

Counting down the time she had left on Los Pajaros. Who would have thought, merely days ago when she’d hit nothing but road block after road block, that she’d fall in love with the place?

Or with a man she’d only just met.

She slipped from the bed and padded through to the kitchen to switch the coffee machine on. By the time Rik joined her, wearing nothing but drawstring jogging bottoms low on his hips, she had breakfast and fresh coffee ready.

Though the air had turned chilly, making it too cool to eat outside on the patio, she still opened all the doors, and the sweet, heavy scent of frangipani blossoms wafted in, mingling with the bitter coffee aroma. But all she could taste in her mouth was bitterness.

“I have to go.” She broke apart the flaky croissant with her fingers. “I need to pick the team up at the airport and then we have meetings scheduled with the mayor and the harbour master.”

“What happens when your meetings are over?”

“I fly back to London.”

He steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair, and for a moment she caught a glimpse of the kind of ruler he would have been: serious, focussed, and just a little intimidating.

“So your work on this particular project is done and you’re back to unemployment?”

She frowned. “You sound like my mother.”

“Stay with me.”

“What?”

“If you don’t have any reason to hurry back to London, stay here in Los Pajaros for a few more days. A week, perhaps.”

“My flight’s already booked.”

Rik leaned forward. “I’ll book you another.”

“I have to check out of the resort and return my rental car this morning.”

“You won’t need either of them.”

She kept her eyes down. Staying here in Los Pajaros would mean loads more phenomenal sex. Her body was already saying ‘
yes please!
’ to that. But staying would also mean she could no longer pretend this was a simple one-night stand. Staying would mean getting
involved
. Or at least more involved than she already was.

“Let me just get through this meeting, okay?”

“You’ll think about it?”

“I’ll think about it.” How to stop thinking about it enough to concentrate in the meeting was going to be more an issue.

He rose. “I’ll drive you back to the resort so you can check out and fetch your rental. After your meeting at the harbour master’s we can meet at the end of Pier Four, and you can tell me your decision.”

She nodded.

The drive to the resort flashed by too quickly. Kenzie stared out the window, absorbing every sight and sound, every memory, every moment. The car jolted through ruts and deep, stagnant puddles, past wooden shacks behind low slatted fences where dark-eyed children grinned and waved as they drove past. They passed a lone store, tiny and thatch-roofed with the ubiquitous Coca-Cola sign hanging from the eaves, faded by the sun.

She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to explore every corner of these islands, wanted to drink cocktails beneath the setting sun and swim in the ocean again, and hear the monkeys chatter in the trees on Tortuga.

But if she stayed … 

Rik wouldn’t understand. He’d never been in love. How convenient was that? If he’d never been in love, then he’d never been hurt. He didn’t know how the end of a relationship could tear you apart. And with a man like Rik the end would be inevitable.

He’d only asked her to stay for a week at most.

He pulled up beneath the portico at the hotel entrance. “I’ll see you at one.” He leaned across and tucked a fresh frangipani flower behind her ear.

She nodded, unable to speak, and stepped out of the car. Without a backward glance she hurried inside to pack her bags.

***

It was hard to concentrate. Voices droned on around her and the air felt heavy. Kenzie swigged from her coffee cup and forced her focus back into the boardroom where the production designer and the ship’s master craftsman debated the finer points of pirate ship design. She stifled a yawn.

She hadn’t had her full eight hours last night, but then it had also been her last night with Rik. She hadn’t wanted to miss a moment.

Perhaps it didn’t have to be the end … 

The harbour master’s boardroom was surprisingly modern, with trendy furnishings and damask wallpaper patterned in black and white. The wide first floor windows looked out into the leafy trees beyond, their colour vivid against the overcast sky.

In the muggy tropical heat, her production team were sweating in spite of their short sleeves. After the chill of autumnal London this closeness must be a massive shock.

Thunder rolled, deep and ominous, in the distance.

When the meeting finally adjourned, Kenzie stuffed her notebook and pen into her rucksack. It was already one o’clock and Rik would be waiting for her at Pier Four. She needed to see him with a desperation that bordered on pain, a physical itch so intense it needed the emotional equivalent of calamine lotion.

“Well done, Kenzie.” Neil shuffled his papers together, not looking up. “I’ll call the other scouts off and let them know we’ll be shooting the entire Caribbean section of the film here.”

Her heart thumped loudly against her ribs. She’d done it!

He looked up from his papers. “Do you have any plans for the next week?”

Stay on Los Pajaros to indulge in more hot sex?
She shook her head. “No. No plans.”

“Great. We’ve had scouts out searching for a baroque palace for the European scenes, and they’ve not had much luck. Can you believe one actually brought me pictures of Blenheim? Like I hadn’t thought of that!” He tucked his file under his arm. “You want to have a crack at it?”

Would she ever? She looked toward the window where raindrops had begun to spatter against the glass. Rik would get very wet if she kept him waiting much longer.

“Can I get back to you?”

“Sure. Just let my coordinator know and she’ll make your new travel arrangements. Have a safe flight.”

Kenzie grabbed her rucksack and headed for the door.

She left her bags in the rental and ran all the way to Pier Four. Great big raindrops smacked down, far more dramatic than the fine, misting European rain she was used to.

By the time she reached the Pier, chest burning and her hair plastered to her face, the rain mingled with her hot, salty tears.

Rik waited at the end of the pier, his back to her as he leaned on the steel railing, looking out over the harbour, oblivious to the rain. She stopped a few paces away from him and he turned.

She managed a smile. “Mission accomplished!”

He grinned. “So you’ll stay?”

“Neil has offered me a chance to scout the European leg of the shoot too.”

She barely caught the look of incredulity in his eyes before the mask slipped into place.

“I’m not looking for a relationship, Rik.” Not with
you
. “You knew that.”

“Neither am I. I just don’t want the fun to end yet.”

Typical bloody Golden Boy. Making this all about what
he
wanted – a quick fling, a little fun. What about what she needed?

She shook her head. “If I stay, this won’t be a one-night stand any more, and neither of us is ready for anything more.” She swallowed. “Are we?”

“Don’t go.” He made it sound like a command and her back bristled. She wasn’t his plaything, to keep for as long as it amused him. And he hadn’t answered her question. Which was an answer in itself.

Pain gnawed at her chest. “It’s like the forest, another rainy season and you won’t even remember I was here.”

Whereas she would never forget.

Another moment with him and she wouldn’t have the strength to walk away.

“Goodbye, Rik.”

She managed to put one foot in front of another and keep going without looking back, though her feet dragged like lead. By the time she reached the rental car her eyes were aching and swollen from the tears streaming down her face.

She sat behind the wheel for a long moment before she pulled the frangipani blossom from her hair. It lay limp and wilted in her palm. Like their fling, its time was over.

@KenzieCole101: @ProducerNeil I’d like to take you up on that offer. I’m thinking Poland for baroque palaces.

Rik swam through the churning grey water. The shore seemed no closer than it had ten minutes ago, though his arms ached with the effort. Every morning since he’d arrived in Los Pajaros he’d pushed himself this way, to the very edge of collapse.

Every morning he felt that temptation to give in, to let the water drag him away. But he kept on fighting. It was a triumph of sorts, knowing that for another day he’d beaten not only the sea but his own demons.

So why hadn’t he done the same with Kenzie? Why hadn’t he chased after her and fought for her?

He was used to getting what he wanted. Even here on the islands. He wanted anonymity, he got it. He wanted a favour, he called the mayor. He wanted sex, he found someone.

So now that he wanted more than sex, when he wanted to give these new feelings he was experiencing a shot, why hadn’t he stopped Kenzie from getting on that plane?

Because of the fear in her eyes. She’d been scared and he hadn’t known how to deal with it. He had no idea what she was scared of, or how to fix it.

His arms pulled against the tide, tiring now. He fought harder, pouring all his frustration into beating the unbeatable.

What could he do to make Kenzie want him? He was a gentleman. He wouldn’t hurt her. They could have so much fun together. And the sex … 

He could still feel her on his skin, the slide of her hair, the softness of her body pressed against him.

His feet found purchase on the gravelly floor and he rose, wading out of the sea.

Perhaps the problem was that he didn’t really have a clue how to seduce a woman. Back when he’d been a prince, it had been so easy. He’d determined his target, made a few calls, had his intelligence people research her until he knew her weakness, and then he’d honed in. Most women were easy. They wanted money or fame or appreciation. Some just wanted sex.

But with Kenzie, he had no idea what she wanted. He wasn’t even sure if she knew what she wanted. She’d been hurt before; she’d said as much. But even this career she chased after wasn’t her main driving force. If it were, she’d have taken it more seriously. She’d have had a five year plan, at least.

He frowned as he scrubbed himself dry with the towel.

Though the storm had blown itself out through the night, the air was still chilly and damp. He looked up at the foreboding sky.

He’d followed his instincts with Kenzie and so far his instincts hadn’t been wrong. This wasn’t the end.

All he needed to know was what Kenzie wanted, and how he could make it happen.

Since he no longer had a secret service at his fingertips to do the research for him, he’d have to do it himself.

***

@KenzieCole101: I’m re-packing my bags tonight. Out with the suntan lotion and in with the winter coat.

Rik pressed the door buzzer and leaned against the wall. The sound of a TV within the flat sounded loud through the plain white door. Rugby commentary? He hadn’t taken Kenzie for a rugby fan.

The chain rattled behind the door and a latch slid open. The door opened a fraction before it was flung wide.

Rik’s eyes opened wide at the bare-chested young man who’d opened the door. He looked like a GQ model; tall, with fair curly hair, bright blue eyes, and dimples that deepened as he gave Rik the once over. And had Rik mentioned? … He was shirtless.

Scratch GQ model. He looked more like a male stripper.

“Who the hell are you?” Rik demanded.

“I’m Lee, and who the hell are you? Or more importantly, what can I do for you?”

This was
Lee
? Kenzie’s best friend and flatmate was a
man
? Rik’s hands fisted. Best friends, or friends with benefits? He was tempted to turn around and leave.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to smile. This time he wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

“Is Kenzie home?” He only just managed to keep his voice on the polite side of a snarl.

“Mac, it’s for you.” Lee called over his shoulder into the flat. With the grace of a dancer, he turned and headed towards the sofa in front of the TV, where he stretched out his long, lean limbs. Not only was he shirtless, but he was barefoot too. He was dressed in nothing but low-slung jeans that revealed way too much honed torso, in Rik’s opinion.

“Who is it?” Kenzie’s voice drifted down the corridor from an inner room.

“No idea. Didn’t introduce himself. But he’s
hot
.” Lee called back. Then to Rik: “Make yourself at home.”

Rik settled into the one available armchair and spared a glance for the TV before looking back at Lee, who eyed him with cheerful amusement.

“I’m Rik,” he said, more to pass the time than to make polite conversation.

Lee’s eyes rounded and he sat upright, slinging his bare feet off the sofa. “You don’t look much like a pirate.”

Rik didn’t have a chance to puzzle out that cryptic comment, since Kenzie chose that moment to make her entrance. He rose.

Dressed in a wide-necked white tee over a lacy camisole top and a pair of denim cut-offs, her only concession to the chill of autumnal London was a pair of black tights.

He swallowed. The tights emphasised the shapely length of her legs, and as for that slip of black lace dipping over the curves of her breasts…

He lifted his gaze to her face.

“You clean up nicely,” she observed, eyeing his clean-shaven face and the tailored suit. Her face was expressionless but her eyes looked like they’d been bruised.

“And you look awful.”

“Lack of sleep does that to her.” Lee said cheerfully. Two sets of glaring eyes turned to him and he held up his hands in a gesture of retreat.

“I’ve had a stomach bug. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Or ever
, her tone implied.

He hadn’t exactly expected a warm welcome, but this was verging on hostile. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” She glanced at her flatmate. “Isn’t there somewhere else you could be right now?”

Lee grinned, cheeks dimpling. “And miss all the fun? No way!” Kenzie frowned and he sighed. “Alright, then. I suppose I could watch the rest of the game down at the pub.”

“Thanks.”

Lee gave her a peck on the cheek as he passed her on his way to the door, whispering loud enough for his voice to carry to Rik, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Kenzie cuffed his arm. “That doesn’t leave much, does it?”

The door closed behind Lee, and they were alone.

She crossed to the sofa Lee had just vacated and sat with her legs curled beneath her. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”

Rik resumed his seat on the armchair. “You never told me Lee was a man.”

“Didn’t I? He’s no threat to your ego, you know. He bats for the other side.”

His brow knotted.

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You really have lived a sheltered life. Lee’s gay.”

Ah.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but what are you doing here?”

“I need a date for an event, and I was hoping you were free.”

“What’s the event in aid of?”

“You read the letter.”

Her face froze. Slowly, she shook her head. “I thought you weren’t going.”

“I changed my mind.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why? And why me? I’m not an A-list party kind of girl. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding someone who enjoys being a rich man’s arm candy.”

“Marjorie couldn’t make it so I need a back up plan. You seem to be pretty good at those. Besides, it’s not an A-list party. It’s friends and family only.”

He wasn’t above playing on that soft heart of hers. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “My mother’s going to be there. I need moral support. I need you.”

“Where and when is this party?”

“Tonight in Neustadt.”

“Tonight?” She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m busy. I’m flying to Warsaw in the morning.”

“I know. You’re scouting for a Baroque palace.”

She uncrossed her arms. “How on earth do you know that?”

“Little thing called Twitter. I’m learning how to use it. Don’t forget your camera, because you’re going to be inside a palace in Neustadt that’s never been seen before. If it doesn’t work for you, I’ll put you on a plane to Warsaw myself.”

Her eyes opened wide as saucers, her excitement clear. “You’ll get me permission to shoot
inside
the palace in Neustadt?”

“I know the owner.”

The corner of her mouth lifted and her eyes sparkled. It was a much better look on her than the reticent, thin-lipped expression that had greeted him. “I have an appointment at Nieborow Palace tomorrow.”

“Cancel it. Or better yet, I’ll call the Minister and cancel for you. We served together on a committee for European heritage a couple of years ago.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

She licked her lips, and he smiled. Though he knew it was the thought of photographing the holy grail of film locations, a real live royal palace, that was piquing her interest rather than seeing him again, he’d take what he could get.

“You know I don’t even own a dress.”

He grinned. “That cocktail dress you wore to dinner in Christianstad will be perfect.”

***

Her bag was already packed. All she had to do was add in the dress, a pair of killer heels – the only ones she possessed – and a make-up bag. At the last minute she threw in the earrings she’d inherited from her grandmother.

“Will we have time to get dressed before the party?” It was already growing dark in London and Westerwald was an hour ahead.

“We can change on the plane,” Rik said, leaning against the doorframe and watching her. She wished she’d bothered to at least make the bed. Or hide the bin of used tissues she’d filled crying herself to sleep last night.

Tonight there’d be no need for the tissues. Tonight she’d be back in his arms.

She snapped her suitcase shut and zipped it closed. “I’ll need to change into something more appropriate to travel in, then we can go.”

His gaze raked down her stockinged legs and he smiled. “You’re perfect as you are. But you’ll need a coat. It’s cold and wet outside.”

She hadn’t noticed, since she’d spent practically the entire day in bed. But when was England anything but cold and wet? She’d scarcely been gone a day and a half and already she felt homesick for the Caribbean.

Slipping on her boots, she grabbed her phone and charger, and left Rik to follow with her suitcase. She stuck a scribbled post-it note on the television for Lee, collected her coat and camera bag, and let them out of the flat.

A car waited at the kerb, revving to life as they emerged from the building. No, not a car. A luxury sedan with tinted windows.

Rik stowed her luggage in the boot and opened the door for her to slide inside. She settled back against the leather, feeling woefully under-dressed for the setting.

“I bet you travel first class all the way,” she said, biting her lip.

He grinned. “Forget first class. We fly private.”

***

There were no check-in queues or crowded gates. They drove through a security checkpoint right onto the runway, pulling up beside a small plane that stood ready and waiting. A customs officer greeted Rik and checked their passports, while the uniformed chauffeur dealt with their luggage.

“Enjoy your flight, sir,” the customs officer said. Rik nodded and, with his hand in the small of her back, propelled her on board.

Kenzie had never been on a private plane before. It wasn’t as big as she’d imagined, just one cabin with extra-large leather seats, an oversized entertainment system and a bathroom in the rear, but this under-stated elegance certainly beat flying cattle class any day.

“The trip’s too short to require a hostess,” Rik said once they were airborne, “but I can offer you champagne.”

“Water will be fine, thanks.”

She took the bottled water he offered and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed. And to think she’d been worried about the acrobatics required to get into her cocktail dress inside an on-board loo. This bathroom was nearly as big as the one she shared with Lee.

An old fear had taken up residence in her stomach, squeezing like a tight fist, and she felt the urge to throw up again. She should have said no to Rik. Right now she should be tucked into bed with a bowl of chicken soup and Lauren Weisberger’s new novel.

Why had she agreed to come? Because she was a sucker for a man in need. And because the chance to present the director with the palace in Neustadt as a film location was too good to refuse.

She splashed cold water on her face and examined her reflection in the mirror.

Because she’d wanted, desperately, madly, to see Rik again. Even though she knew it was the wrong thing to do, barely forty eight hours after she’d said goodbye, she wanted to take it all back. She’d done the one thing she’d vowed never to do again and fallen for the bad boy with the brooding eyes.

All he had to do was click his fingers and she came running. Just the way she’d done for her previous three boyfriends.

Her fringe fell across her face, and her bruised eyes and freckles stood out against her abnormally pale skin. What the hell had she been thinking?

This might be a party for friends and family, but she was never going to fit in. She remembered all too well the kind of people who socialised with royalty. Once upon a time they’d been her friends, until she’d really needed them and they’d abandoned her.

She swallowed hard. She also remembered the terror of walking into a party alone, while everyone whispered behind their hands. The last time she’d faced that ordeal, she’d had to do it alone. She would do anything in her power to make that moment easier for Rik.

Even if it meant sucking it up and facing the gauntlet of her worst fears.

With shaking hands, she applied her make-up. Though it had been years since she’d dolled herself up for this kind of party, she still remembered how to make the best of her features. At least she looked less freaky.

There was nothing she could do with her hair, though. Not without five hours, hot curlers and a stylist. So she brushed it smooth and left it hanging loose.