Then You Hide (17 page)

He was on the blanket. Watching her and letting her soothe herself, find her own sympathy, drown her sorrows all alone.

She fell back into a dead man’s float, stared at the first few stars, studied another cloud wisp over the moon, found the tiny red dot of a plane. Then she looked at Wade.

He didn’t move.

What if a shark attacked? Or the undertow pulled her down? Didn’t he care if she was alone in dark water?

Didn’t he
want
to swim with her? Didn’t he want her as much as she wanted him?

The realization rocked her. It had been a long, long time since she’d wanted a man with an ache so deep and impossible to ignore. She wanted Wade Cordell’s hands on her body, his mouth on her body, his
body
on her body.

And he was peeling fruit.

There was a time to be a gentleman, and there was a time to be a lady.

And this wasn’t that time.

She rode the next swell in, dragging her feet over the frothy surf, taking slow, sure steps on the glistening path of moonlight that led right to him.

He sat very still, watching her approach, silent, expressionless, expectant.

She reached behind her, pulled the tie of her top, and released it, lifting it over her head and dropping it onto the sand without missing a step.

He sat a little straighter.

Three feet from him, she put her fingers on the hip ties, held his impenetrable gaze, and pulled. The bikini bottom fell to the sand.

“Billy Wade.” She kneeled in front of him. “I don’t care what you call it or why. I don’t care if it’s part of a deal or just for fun. I want you.”

His smile was slow, easy, as sexy as sin. He snapped his knife closed and set it to the side, never taking his eyes from her. “Even though I smell?”

Inhaling slow and deep, she nodded. “I’m starting to like it.” She brushed her fingertips over his mouth. “I’m starting to like you.”

“That’s funny,” he whispered, kneeling to meet her mouth to mouth. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

His kiss was gentle at first, and slow, of course. Even though she was inches away and completely naked, he didn’t throw her down and stuff himself all over her and inside her. Not this man. He was…

Deliberate.

He glided his tongue into her mouth.

Purposeful.

He grazed his hands over her breasts and teased her nipples into hard points under his palms.

Calculated.

He leaned back so she could unsnap and push down his shorts, then he guided her to the blanket so she could watch him finish undressing. When he had, he lay next to her, his erection touching her hip, then his hand on her breast, his breath warm on her cheek.

Too
slow.

She crushed his mouth with a kiss, closing one hand over his shaft, hungry and desperate to stroke him. Under her lips, she could feel him smile, then laugh.

“We’re gonna have to take turns, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Once we’ll do it my way. Then we’ll do it yours. But not both at the same time. That won’t be pretty.”

“I don’t care about pretty.” She stroked his buttocks, hard and curved and cut, trying to pull him on top of her so she could ride that hard-on.

“Well, I do.” He rose above her and kissed one of her nipples, then circled it with his tongue, holding himself high enough to deny her contact with his erection. “And so should you, because you are so damn
pretty
.” He moved to her other breast, sending sparks through her body, making her let go of his backside to travel up his back and dig her fingers into his scalp, pressing his hot, wet mouth against her.

He chuckled again. “Easy, baby; it’ll be over too fast.”

“I like fast.” She ran her hands over his chest and down his abs, then closed her fingers over him, rubbing the moist head and sucking in a breath as she squeezed her way down the shaft, glorying in how it grew harder in her fingers. “I like this.” She nestled her fingers under him, cupping his balls to squeeze gently. “I like these.”

His smile was a little lopsided from the distraction. “You know what you are?”

“Ready?”

He released a breath of laughter. “You are one beautiful…” He nibbled her chin. “Brilliant…” He licked her throat. “Sexy…” Another swipe over her nipple. “Funny, relentless, sexy, speedy…” Then the other one. “Crazy, wild—did I say sexy?” He kissed her mouth. “Woman.”

“But not a lady,” she whispered.

He held himself above her, braced on his hands, looking into her eyes. “A woman,” he repeated. “Whom I very much want to make love to.”

She closed her eyes, and he kissed her, sucking in her tongue so she could taste the sweet tang of mango and papaya in his mouth.

“You know what else you are?” he murmured into her ear.

“About to scream if you don’t get inside me?” She tried to maneuver toward him again, but he lifted his body to glide his hand between her legs.

“You’re always, always, always in a hurry.” He slipped one hand around her bottom and lifted her from the blanket, his other hand lightly stroking the wet and swollen center, gently rolling her clitoris between his fingertips. Slow, sweet, and leisurely as hell.

Blood hammered in her ears, and a soft, desperate moan trembled through her whole body. Was that her? Him? “Then I can have three orgasms in the time you have one,” she whispered to him.

“And you will.” He inserted one finger, kissed his way up her neck, fluttering his tongue into her ear and nibbling her earlobe. Then he delved a second finger into her. He curled the tips and stroked inside her, shocking her with a sexual jolt from head to toe, gliding over her nub as he suckled on her earlobe and grazed his nipples against hers, coarse hair against tender, sensitive skin.

She didn’t know where to feel. What to feel. Just…bliss. His mouth, his hands, his hips, his chest, his legs—pure pleasure and delight coiled deep inside her.

He controlled her with his hand, his thumb on her clitoris, his fingers deep inside, and she rocked with a swift and furious climax that twisted and coiled and then released with brutal urgency. She slammed her teeth against his shoulder, stifling a scream, letting the sensations careen over her, all wicked and warm and not nearly done with him.

“There’s one,” he murmured as he rolled off her, then scooped her up in his arms and walked straight into the surf as if she were some kind of holy offering to Poseidon. Spent, lost, and completely under his spell, she let her feet and hair and fingers trail through the water as he carried her deeper into the blue-black sea.

A wave crested under her, and she rose with the water. He strode further, her body rising with each swell, high enough so that she floated right into his mouth. He suckled her breast, cupping her bottom in one sure hand.

Finally, he reached the sandbar, stepping up the underwater hill to where the water was only waist-high. They were utterly alone, surrounded by miles of moonlit Caribbean Sea.

He turned her so she could wrap her legs around his hips. “Here’s two.” He kissed her, wedging his rock-hard thigh between her legs. The wet hairs of his leg tickled like a million delicious fingers, torturing her until one more shuddering climax took her like the relentless ocean waves.

“Wade…”

“Shhh. I believe,” he said, his large hands clamped over her hips, “that my woman ordered three.”

His woman
almost drowned at the sound of sex in his voice. “One
with
you.”

His eyes were like blue steel in the moonlight, his focus as insanely sexy as anything she’d ever seen. He braced his legs wide and lifted her, positioning her right above his erection. “Open your mouth and kiss me,” he ordered softly. “Then open your legs and let me inside you.”

“Oh.” She barely sighed the word, covering his mouth with hers as he plunged into her in one steady, unrelenting stroke. He went all the way in, taking her, shocking her, invading her so completely that she threw her head back and let out a helpless, strangled cry.

The warm ocean splashed around them as he filled her body. Another kiss, another thrust, timed perfectly for full body assault. Then faster—and faster, until he pumped so hard that he broke the kiss, his eyes half closed, his mouth half open, every muscle tight and throbbing as he groaned with the pleasure of his release.

She came slower, with less fury this time, like dessert—sweet and unnecessary but perfect. She rocked with a little whimper of defeat and delight as the tropical breeze carried scents of salt and sex.

She was completely peaceful. Spent. Safe. Satisfied.

All she could do was close her eyes and rest her head on his shoulder, buoyant and blissful. Finally, she lifted her head, blinking into the darkness to get her bearings.

“Did the tide take us away from the house?” she asked, frowning at the golden light that wasn’t the moon, wasn’t the stars, and…wasn’t on before. “Oh, my God!”

He turned to face the beach. “Well, look at that. We’ve got company.”

“Maybe it’s Clive!” She wrenched herself away, but he snagged her with a solid grip.

“Maybe it’s not.” Lights poured from their patio and living room. “Whoever they are, they’re not trying to hide.”

He set her down and started wading toward the beach, clasping her hand, instantly on full alert.

“It could be anyone,” he warned. “Including our friend in the yellow truck.”

On shore, he circled them far to the left, avoiding the light that spilled over the beach.

Suddenly, it all went dark, and Wade immediately pushed them down into the soft sand.

“Do you think he’s leaving?” Vanessa whispered.

“He saw us.” He gave her a solid squeeze. “Stay here.
Don’t move
. I’m going to get my gun.”

A shadow appeared at the top of the steps, then footsteps pounded down toward the beach.

Wade sprinted, sand kicking from his feet as he leaped toward the blanket, rolled, and came up with his gun pointed at the stairs.

“Drop it,” a voice said, accompanied by a distinct click. “Or I’ll shoot her.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A FLASHLIGHT INSTANTLY
bathed Wade in white as he cautiously lowered his gun. Vanessa cringed, bracing for a shot as the blinding light in her eyes made her blink.

“Get the hell out of here,” a gruff—and vaguely familiar—voice demanded.

Vanessa put her hand over her mouth.
Fuck! This isn’t happening
.
It can’t be
.

“Don’t shoot him, Wade,” she said softly, completely mortified. “Uh, hello, Mr. Vex.”

He took a few more steps down, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Wade sliding into his shorts. “Vanessa? Vanessa Porter from Razor?”

His shocked tone told her he had no idea they’d been invited to use his house.

“Yes,” she said, shielding her nudity with crossed arms. “Marcus arranged for me to stay here for a few days. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Marcus gave you the key?”

“Actually, he just made the call, and we got the key from Nevis Properties,” Wade said, walking toward Vanessa to hand her the blanket.

She shot him a grateful look and wrapped it around her. “There seems to be a misunderstanding, and I’m so sor—”

“You have to leave.” Vex whipped around, pointing the light up the stairs and leaving them in the dark to watch him take the steps back up to the house two at a time, thudding on the wood, his shoulders stiff in palpable displeasure.

Vanessa let out a little sigh. “Nothing like royally pissing off the company’s biggest client by invading his vacation home.”

“And embarrassing yourself.” He lifted the blanket higher on her shoulder.

“No,” she said, anger starting to burn. “I’m single, free, and allowed to have sex on a private beach on my vacation. I’m not embarrassed. But I’m furious with Marcus.
How
could he not tell the client he was going to let one of his employees use the house?”

The house lights came on again, and they could see Vex’s silhouette lumbering around the patio and the main room.

“Shit!” She punched the air. “My stuff is all over the bedroom. I dumped my tote on the bed to find a bathing suit and threw my cosmetics bag in the bathroom.”

“Let’s go get it, then. We’re obviously not staying here tonight.” He put his arm around her and led her up, pausing to pick up his pen knife, the bowl, and her bathing suit.

Above them, something hit the boardwalk with a thump.

Sharing a quick look, they hustled up the stairs to find her tote and his duffle dumped outside, clothing spilling out.

“Jeez,” she said. “He doesn’t have to be a total prick about it. It’s just a little communication misunderstanding.”

“Nothing that involves Marcus Razor is a little communication misunderstanding, Ms. Porter.” The voice boomed from inside the house, rich with disgust. “If you don’t believe him, just ask him.” Vex stepped into one of the open archways, his bulky six-foot frame filling it. “If you have a job when you return.”

Vanessa lifted her chin. “Mr. Vex, I am truly sorry about the misunderstanding. I don’t think it’s anything I should get fired over. This is my friend Wade Cordell.” She indicated Wade, who stepped forward with his hand extended.

“Apologize for the inconvenience, sir.”

Vex pointedly ignored the offered hand. In the backlighting, he looked far beyond weary. His jowls sagged far more than they should for a forty-something man, and his thin brown hair fell over a deeply lined forehead.

“There
was
a communication breakdown, and I think we can blame faulty satellite service,” Vanessa said, rushing to get her words out before Vex ordered them away. Or brandished a gun again. “I’m certain Marcus would never have suggested we stay here if he’d known you were coming down for a vacation.”

He snorted softly. “This is no vacation, Ms. Porter.” He pointed at the bags. “Go.”

Wade bent to scoop them, looking up at Vex. “Would you mind if we checked to make sure there’s nothing left behind? Vanessa left her—”

“Yes, I’d mind. Get the fuck out of here.”

“My other bag is in your bathroom,” she said quietly, taking a step forward. “I’ll get it, and we’ll leave.”

Vex held his hand up to halt her. “Don’t come into this house.” He walked away, and Vanessa shook her head in dismay.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” she whispered to Wade. “He’s gruff and demanding, but I’ve never seen him this nasty. I’d better call Marcus and do some damage control ASAP.”

“Can he really have you fired?”

She snorted while briskly stepping into a pair of shorts and yanking on a tank top. “His business outweighs my contribution tenfold—so, yeah. But Marcus isn’t unreasonable. The worst that would happen is I just don’t do any more deals with Vexell Industries.”

He appeared in the doorway with a black satin bag in one hand, a revolver in the other, moving it with dangerous carelessness. “Get out now.” He tossed the bag, and Wade caught it with one hand. “Too bad you saw me here.” He reached back to put his hands on the door’s shutters, eyes blazing. “You might want to forget that you did.”

The shutters met with a whoosh and the click of the lock.

“Oookay,” Vanessa said. “So much for the free beach house.”

Wade’s expression was dark as he stared at the doors, then stepped to the left to see inside the next one just as it slammed closed, too. “Let’s get out of here. There are plenty of places to stay in Nevis.”

They silently walked up the boardwalk to where he’d left the Honda Element they’d picked up to replace the Jeep and climbed in.

Vanessa kept her tote on her lap, digging for her phone. “I’m going to give Marcus hell for putting me in such an awful situation. That was a nightmare.”

Wade said nothing, turning north.

“Don’t you think we ought to go to Charlestown?” she asked. “There are probably more hotel options in town. Up here, it’s all resorts, and they’re full. That’s what they said at that Nisbet place.”

“Those girls at the bar said their resort had vacancies. And Cliffdwellers is near Newcastle.”

If the bimbettes could get them a place to sleep, fine. She was exhausted, angry, and resentful that the first amazing romantic interlude she’d had in forever was interrupted by a pissy client. She dug in the tote’s side pocket for the phone, and her gut tightened when her fingers felt nothing. She bit back a curse and groped in every corner of the bag, fighting panic. Where had she put it?

Oh, oh, oh
. On the bathroom counter. She’d left it there when she replaced Clive’s prescription bottle and tried to reach Marcus. Vex had to have seen it when he got the cosmetics bag. She unzipped that, hope surging that it would be inside.

“Fuck a duck!”

Wade blew out a slow whistle. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“I don’t have my phone!” She reached up and hit the dome light, widening the tote and launching a full-scale search. “We have to go back.”

“That’ll be fun.”

“I’m serious. I can’t live without that phone. Everything is on it: every contact, every number, all my links. It’s an iPhone, for God’s sake.”

“It never works. Relax. We’ll get it tomorrow. Maybe he’ll be in a better mood.”

“I don’t know Marcus’s number by heart!” she exclaimed. “It’s in my phone.”

“We can get his number, Vanessa,” he assured her.

“Not his cell.”

He slid a “get real” look at her. “I can have it for you first thing in the morning.”

“I want to call him now.”

“What can he do now, except say he’s sorry he sent us there?” He slipped his hand into hers. “Just relax tonight.”

“What if Clive calls me?”

“You never have service here, Vanessa. It’s late. We’ll go back in the morning and ask him for the phone. Now we need to find somewhere to stay, get some food, and sleep. Tomorrow is a whole new day.”

“Right.” She tried to let the disappointment and frustration fade, but it wasn’t easy. “It can only get better than today.”

“That last part was pretty nice.” He rubbed her palm with a dead sexy look.

“It sure was,” she agreed. “But he ruined it.”

“Only if you let him.” He lifted her hand and kissed it softly, his lips warm and soft. “Lucy’s putting together as much info as she can, and she’ll soon have a fix on where Clive’s last message was generated. When we talk to the Bullet Catchers office tomorrow, we’ll get Marcus’s phone number, and you can call him. We’ll be armed with information, fresh and ready to roll. Sound like a plan?”

She sighed, leaning back, letting his good sense wash over her. “You and your plans.”

“I just did spontaneous back there on the beach.”

She grinned. “And see how good that can be? You liked it.”

“I like
you,
” he corrected.

She laughed softly. “You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

“I am, too,” she admitted. “For two people with next to nothing in common, we sure found…something in common.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “That’s why I call it the good thing.”

Vanessa smiled. That was better than good. Way better.

The boy could boogie.

He was actually a man, but since he was about the age of Stella’s oldest grandson, she thought of him as a boy. But what a dancer!

He whisked her toward their table as “Celebration” ended, a fine sheen of perspiration under his thinning hair matching the one on her clammy neck. They’d been on that dance floor for hours.

She gulped down the glass of sparkling water she’d left waiting, catching her breath.

Jason lifted his own glass of Perrier. “To you, Stella Feldstein. You’re an animal out there.”

Stella winked at him and growled, just as the rising crescendo of “It’s Raining Men” rocked the
Valhalla
’s packed disco lounge.

“I love this song!” She grabbed Jason’s arm and headed back toward the dance floor, but he held firm.

“You’re killin’ me, woman!” He threw his head back, baring a beautiful set of straight white teeth. He didn’t have the muscular build that Stella liked to admire, but he was tall and incredibly entertaining.

Ever since she’d practically walked right into him as she left her room on the way to dinner, he’d amused her with little digs about some of the other passengers and witty remarks about everything from fashion to food. It seemed natural to eat together since they were both alone, and then they’d meandered into the disco for an after-dinner drink. Once the DJ got rockin’, so did Stella and her new friend.

“Come on,” she insisted, tugging harder. “It’s our last night at sea.”

“Exactly why we need some salt air.” He hooked his arm through hers. “Would you care to stroll the deck with me and share a drink, madame?”

She beamed up at him. “So chivalry isn’t dead. Lord, I haven’t had this much fun since my last single friend left the cruise. Where were you the first half of this week, anyway? I would love to have introduced you to Vanessa.”

“The slinky blonde from New York who’s always in a rush?”

Stella’s eyes went wide with surprise. “You know her?”

“How many Vanessas could there be on one cruise?” he asked, guiding her to an opening in the bar and signaling for a drink. “I met her on the first day, on the tender over to Anguilla. Where has she been?”

“God knows.”

The bartender arrived and looked expectantly at Stella. “I don’t drink because of my meds,” she told Jason.

“You sure? Last night in port and all. How ‘bout something light?”

“Okay. That pink wine.”

“A white zinfandel for the lady,” he said, “and I’ll have a vodka gimlet.”

Stella turned to watch the dancers, and when the bartender delivered the drinks, she picked up the tab. “I’ll sign for this round. You’ve been a terrific partner to a talkative old lady.”

“You are not talkative or old, Stella. And you do the bump! Not a single woman on this cruise can do the bump. I thank you for that, and my drink.”

She giggled, letting him lead her out of the lounge and into the massive brass and blue atrium at the center of the ship. They headed to the wide stairs that led up to the main deck. All the way up, faces she recognized beamed at her.

“Hello, Stella!”

“Hi, Mrs. Feldstein.”

“Saw you dance your pants off in there, Stell.”

Jason sipped his drink, leading the way but not greeting the people she said hello to. He must be shy. That’s why she hadn’t seen him all week. She’d taken enough cruises to know the introverted passengers lay low until the very end, then they showed up and realized they’d missed the best part of the week: the other people.

When they reached the top, she lifted her glass. “You shouldn’t have been so invisible this trip, Jason. I bet you would have had more fun.”

“To the hottest dancer on the ship.” He clinked her glass and sipped.

“I’m hot all right,” she joked, fanning herself. “But you’re sweet.”

“What about your friend Vanessa?” he asked, looking around as if he only half cared about the answer, but so transparent she almost laughed. “Why’d she leave the ship?”

“She’s looking for a friend who’s somewhere in the islands.”

“Have you heard from her?” He sipped and looked left, then right.

“Not a word. But her phone sucks raw eggs.”

He spewed a little drink.

“That’s her expression,” she said. “I just liked it.”

Brown eyes twinkled at her over the rim of his glass. “I do, too.”

“You would have liked her.”

“I did, when I met her. She was pretty.” His eyes widened. “Was? We’re talking about her like she’s dead. She must be coming back to the ship, right? Or at least to St. Barts.”

“Well, she did say she’d meet me at the dock in St. Barts tomorrow, but I don’t know about that girl. I may have seen the last of her.”

“Really?” He looked devastated.

“Ohhhh,” she said, drawing the word out and pointing at him with a knowing finger. “Now I get it.”

“Get what?”

She could have sworn color rushed into his cheeks. What a sweetie. He was actually trying to fool her—as if he could!

“You want to meet her, don’t you?” she said. “That’s why you’re spending all this time with me. You saw me with her earlier in the week.”