What a Girl Wants (9 page)

Maxwell stiffened when he heard the pride in George’s voice. “God among journalists? You media trolls love drama.”

“Let me remind you, you wanted this interview,” George said. “And as we discussed, I told him to treat this as a reward for his hard work and to relax for a few weeks. But the guy is one of the best news hounds in the business.”

“Saunders, let me remind you, that
you
sold your niece’s information.”

A few seconds passed before George answered. “You agreed to have Alex interview
¾
”

“Because you told me that he’d write a light interview and support Madison when the time came.”

“I’m sure he’ll help her through it.” George sounded anxious. “When do you think that time will be?”

Maxwell drew a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. “Soon. I’m not ready yet.” He had to do more research, get the test done and wait for the results. He’d accomplished this without alerting Madison. Donovan was sharp, he’d give him that, and getting the test done without raising the smug reporter’s suspicions was going to be a challenge. “I’ll see you tomorrow night in New York.” He released the speakerphone button and turned to Victor. “Comb every inch of this island and make damn sure there are no paparazzi around.”

Victor nodded. “Is there anything else, sir?”

“Confirm my appointment at the Plaza with Crystal Washington.”

Maxwell peered out the bay window into the moonlit sky. He looked across and eyed Madison and Alex, strolling along the flagstone pathway by his living room window.

He turned to Victor. “You can leave now.”

Maxwell looked at Madison and swallowed past a lump in his throat. Donovan glanced around as if checking the area. He stopped and stared at Maxwell through the glass. Donovan lifted his brows and swung his arm around Madison’s shoulders.

Maxwell caught and held the reporter’s glare. He bit down hard on his molars.

Cocky bastard. I’ll wipe your arrogance off your face when I blow up your past in front of the world.

Donovan turned his head away from the window and continued walking.

Maxwell closed his eyes and visualized the hidden fragments of his life that had begun to emerge from the shadows of his past.

He wondered if the confrontation of the truth would finally set him free, or hurt the wrong person.

Chapter Nine

“That would be a good thing for them to cut on my tombstone:

Wherever she went, including here, it was against her better judgment
.”

—Dorothy Parker

By eight o’clock the next morning, Alex had put his body through his version of a stress-management circuit—pumping iron, running on the beach and swimming laps.

He tossed the empty Gatorade bottle into his suite’s garbage bin. Yawning, he stretched his arms above his head. Exhaustion had finally crept into his punished muscles. He’d had another sleepless night. His suspicions surrounding George and Hollister had whirled through his mind stronger than a desert sand storm.

When he did manage some shut-eye, he was haunted by images of Maddie in a black mini, Maddie in a red dress and Maddie in a bikini.

Christ.
Maddie wearing his grandma’s flannel could cause an impressive erection.

He wanted her. She wanted him.

Why the hell was he resisting it?

Because he wanted to protect their relationship. Their
platonic
relationship.

There was also loyalty to George, his possible move to England and memories of another affair with a colleague turned bad. He’d been reminding himself of those reasons day and night, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her.

He shrugged out of his T-shirt and heard a knock. He wrapped the shirt around his neck and yanked open the door.

“Morning.” Maddie smiled. One hand was on her hip and the other clutched her laptop. “Can I come in?”

He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. “Morning, doll. Come.”
If only.

She ambled into the room, her lavender scent assailing his senses and reminding him of how it felt to have her soft body in his arms and taste the sweetness of her lips. A wild jackrabbit replaced the even beating of his heart when he looked at her freshly scrubbed, pretty face.

A vivid fantasy materialized in his head of a naked Maddie stepping out of a steam-filled shower, beads of water clinging to her curves. He projected himself into that picture, kissing each drop, one by one.

A fresh layer of perspiration coated his skin and of course, his groin tightened.

“Looks like you’ve had a strenuous morning.” She raked her gaze from his chest to his waist. “Hope it was worth it, big guy.”

He whipped his T-shirt off his neck and hung it in front of his body to hide his morning wood. “To what do I owe the pleasure this early? You, who loves to sleep in more than eating junk food.”

“Nothing beats junk food.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Well, maybe one thing. Mind-blowing
¾
”

He shook a finger in her direction. “Maddie.”

“I was going to say, mind-blowing chocolate fondue.” She batted her eyelashes. “What were
you
thinking?”

His T-shirt slipped out of his hand and tumbled to the floor. He bent to pick it up and paused, taking advantage of the opportunity to admire her pink-tinted toes and shapely ankles for three thumping heartbeats.

What was it about her ankles?

Answer—he’d envisioned them slung over his shoulders.

Damn.

Blood rushed south, causing him to harden even more.

He grabbed the T-shirt and accidentally brushed his arm against her silky leg on his way up. The contact sparked enough chemistry to singe his eyebrows.

The energy expended to
not
jump her bones rivaled his vigorous workout, which obviously hadn’t helped him at all.

“My Internet connection doesn’t work,” she said. “Can I use yours?”

He mentally threw a bucket of ice down his pants. “Mine doesn’t work, either. Neither does Tim’s.”

That morning, the front desk had informed him the DSL had been disconnected due to a server problem. He was then told the phone lines could not be used for Internet access due to a high volume
of incoming calls. High volume? It would have made sense if not for the fact Makana were a tiny island, catering mainly to the rich and infamous.

Alex had given the resort the benefit of the doubt, but discovering that Hollister owned the luxury resort had raised one island-sized red flag. Especially when he was told the Internet service wouldn’t be restored for another few weeks. This, coupled with the information in the file on Hollister’s desk, had aroused his suspicions even further.

His knee-jerk reaction had been to get inside the main computer room and poke around. When he had suggested it to his friend, Tim reminded him of the few days they’d spent in a Mexican jail for their uninvited entrance in a Mexican government office. Which was an experience Alex hadn’t wanted to repeat, either. Neither did he want to do anything that might ruin Maddie’s time on the island, since she was never far behind him.

He tucked away his sleuthing instincts for the time being. With the information he already had, he was sure he didn’t have to risk bending the law to discover what he needed before he confronted Hollister and George, anyway.

Maddie placed her laptop on the floor and let out an exaggerated gasp. “We’re marooned.” Raising her fist to her mouth as if it were a microphone, she hummed the
Gilligan’s Island
theme. She swayed her hips and sang, changing the lyrics, replacing his name with the Captain’s. “No Internet. No e-mail…”

Maddie was the only woman who could play havoc with his libido and at the same time, make him laugh like the best buddy she was.

Go figure.

He clapped his hands. “You finished?”

“Could this be a conspiracy?” She cupped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my. Maybe someone actually wants you to relax?”

“Comedian.” He opened his briefcase. “You can use my Blackberry. It has a wireless connection and I was able to tap into a local provider.”

“I’ll bet the Professor was your idol, huh?”

He sat and turned his Blackberry on. “Nope. I was in the Mary Ann camp.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her sashay around the desk.

She stood in front of him. “I’ve always wondered about something.”

“Uh-huh?”

“If the Professor could make a radio out of a coconut, why couldn’t he fix the hole in the boat?”

He looked up and took in her black shorts that bonded to her like paper on a wall and showed off every inch of her mile-long legs. “You got me there.”
And in other places.

She adjusted the collar on her blouse. “You know what else I’ve always wondered?”

“Hmmm?” She hadn’t heeded his advice about wearing a bra. His overprotectiveness still had him baffled, since he was never one to correct a woman’s personal hold on decency.

“I’ve always wondered if the Professor and Mary Ann had an island fling.” She twirled a loose strand of hair around her finger. “After all, they were stuck on that island for so long, and
¾
”

“And it was a family show. Besides, the Professor had other things on his mind.”

“We’re on an island. You have that professor-like mindset.” She untucked her blouse, and knotted the ends in the front. “Do I remind you of Mary Ann?”

He swallowed a groan.

“You don’t bake pies.” Food would be the last thing on his mind if they were marooned on an island. “But you’d give Gilligan a run for his money.”

Her laughter floated through the air and landed on his dick. He doubted there was any blood left in other parts of his body now. “By the way,
Mary Ann
, are you planning to wear that get-up outside?”

“What?”

“Because if you think I’m going to let you run around loose dressed like that, you’re crazy.”

She lightly punched his arm. “Don’t worry, Professor. This is for your benefit only.”

Great. He had to ask, didn’t he?

He keyed in his password. She hovered over him, her sweet breath fanning his neck. He shifted to the side to escape her nearness and his shoulder swept the tip of her breast. He rubbed the back of his neck and concentrated on baseball scores.

“This is so cool.” She pointed to the Blackberry. “You’re going to have to hook me up with one of these gizmos.” Her voice radiated the megawatt energy that was so much part of her attractiveness. “You have any juice?”

“Fridge.”

While he waited for the Blackberry to connect to the Internet, he watched as she stood by the window and brought the bottle of orange juice to her full, seductive lips.

He took in the picture she made and the jackrabbit in his chest hopped around at full force. Her hair was piled loosely on top of her head, with fallen strands around her neck and ears. Different shades of red and brown shimmered as the morning sun beamed through the window.

He’d forgotten that he’d cranked up the air conditioner after his run and it now had a physical
¾
arousing
¾
effect on her.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Here he was on an exotic island with a hot woman he liked. Everything going on in his life, plus his hands-off-Maddie-policy—it had Greek tragedy written all over it.

He blinked and turned his attention to the Blackberry screen.

She walked over to the desk and tugged his earlobe. “You ready for me?”

Hard and ready.
“Not yet.”

He plugged in the small portable keyboard, and pecked cross it. She leaned over to stare at the screen in his hand, her face a breath away from his lips. With the slightest tip of his head, he’d be able to capture her mouth, lay her on the desk and dive into her, fast and hard.

I’m out of here.
He bolted upright and dropped his T-shirt. Again. He was acting like a clumsy teenage horn dog. “There you go.” He pointed to the Blackberry. “It’s all yours.”

They both bent at the same time to pick the T-shirt up. She stared at him and her hand rested on his shoulder, turning the muscle into tempered steel.

The blatant invitation in her eyes shot through his tattered defenses, sending his willpower into a freefall. It was on the tip of his tongue to say “The hell with it” and drown his ethics in the ocean.

Instead, he summoned his last ounce of control and heaved himself up. “Going to shower.” He headed full speed to the bedroom.

Maddie threw her arms up. “God has to be a man.” Because if God were a woman, she would
never
have arranged for Maddie to be in a suite with a freaking door separating her from a naked, slick-with-soap Alex.

“Maddie?” Alex shouted from the bedroom. “You say something?”

Oops, she must have said that aloud. “Umm, yeah. I’ll let myself out when I’m done.”

She sat and squirmed in the chair, attempting to concentrate on Reece’s e-mail.

[email protected] wrote:

Hey, Mads,

How hot is it down there? And I’m NOT only talking about the weather.

What I want to know is, how’s your boot camp idea going and did you break out that Kama Sutra book? *ha ha* Nothing new to report on that end for me. Can’t believe I'm entering the dirty thirties, my sexual prime for cripessakes and my battery charger’s seen more action than I have. I don’t get it. It’s not as if I have a unibrow like Callie, that new ditzy blonde in distribution. Gawd, I’m such a bitch. Think I have the female version of blue balls. Okay, enough about my pathetic, celibate, snow-filled life. Fill me in. You getting into any naughty trouble? And how’s Alex? *wink wink*

Spill it, sister.

Hugs, Reece

Maddie hit reply.

Hey, Reece,

It’s hottttt down here and I’m ONLY talking about the weather. *sigh*

Alex is a work in progress.

I am planning to enlist him into boot camp. Soon. Hee hee.

I’ll give you a call in a few days.

Stay warm,

Luv ya, M.

Maddie hit send and thought maybe she was kidding herself about enlisting Alex into anything, and she’d most likely spend another night with good ole trusty and reliable BOB, her Battery Operated Boyfriend.

She wasn’t a virgin, but her sexual experience was minimal at best. She’d listened to women at get-togethers brag about mind-blowing sex, complete with bones turning to rubber. They talked about orgasms rocking their world so hard, they could hardly breathe.

Dammit.
That was what she wanted to experience.

Here.

Now.

Alex and his stupid principles.

How was she supposed to sing along with Alex’s version of the friends-only anthem
when he’d answered the door
¾
shirtless, no less
¾
showing off his glistening, Adonis-like body? She’d seen ripped, bare-chested men before on her travels, but
Alex’s
lean musculature, chiseled arms and six-pack abs intoxicated her. And the sight of his mussed hair and the shadow of whiskers on his sensual jaw had caused her mouth to water. She’d had to swallow hard to keep from drooling.

She drained the rest of the juice and shook her hands to the side. Okay, back to work. She had a few more e-mails to read, but she couldn’t concentrate.

She giggled as she remembered the gleam in Alex’s dark eyes a few moments ago. Desire? Hmmm. She was sure she hadn’t imagined his eyes moving from the tips of her toes to the top of her head when he’d opened the door. That wasn’t a “Hey, pal, come on in” greeting, it was downright lascivious.

If only he’d dump his hang-ups, they could cook up a sex-cessful recipe—two-dozen sprinkled kisses, a dash of exotic massage oil and a handful of spice. Turn up the heat to perspiring intensity and serve with a side dish of Kama Sutra positions.

Yum.

Her tingles sprouted tingles.

She turned the Blackberry off and went into the kitchenette to scour through the cupboards. She needed chocolate and fast. She found a can of protein powder, vanilla protein bars, salt-free pretzels and a package of sugarless oatmeal-raisin cookies.

Holy jumpin’, how could a sexy-as-sin man be a connoisseur of boring food? She took a cookie and bit into it, sucking on the raisin for some sweetness.

Even though she’d teased him about treating his body like a temple, she had to admit, Alex’s health freakishness had paid off. He was a magnificent male specimen.