HIGH TIDE (7 page)

For one moment she was certain Nick was going to kiss her. His mouth was so close, and his shadowed glance warmed her face,
her lips
. With such tenderness, he caressed her hair as if it were more precious than satin. Yet, when she closed her eyes, he had retreated except for the link of their hands, which was now used to gently tug her towards the water.

“No,” she emphasized aloud.

“Okay.”

He released her hand, and stepped back, but still held her
gaze. Slowly, he edged towards the surf, the first lick of the sea clawing at his ankles. “It’s warm, though. There’s nothing like a warm ocean at night.”

Briana stood rigid, entranced by the man in jeans that were now immersed calf-high in black swirls. A languid breeze ruffled Nick’s short hair as she became aware of the sultry temperature and increasing humidity.

This was insane
. She didn’t belong here. Only this morning, Nicolas McCord had threatened her with a lawsuit—and this evening, with a gentle brush of his finger, he made her burn.

“Trust me, Briana. Come here and stand next to me.”

“I’m not afraid of the water,” she asserted.  
I’m afraid of you
. “I really should be going.”

Her life was balanced—a constant stream of work, with no distractions. It was composed.
She
was composed. Looking at the tall, strong physique that beckoned her towards the water, like Neptune in the sea, Briana was anything but composed right now.

“Briana.” Somehow when
he said her name, it was in a low, melodic tone that brought in tune the sound of the surf. “Don’t worry, I will hold you.”

The quiet, convincing pitch made her falter.
She was tempted to disregard an incongruous fear of the ocean just at the prospect of his touch.

On tentative steps, she touched
sand that had been brushed by the sea just seconds before. The pebbles were cold but soothing—an exotic sensation. It was when the water rose to encircle her feet that she felt the first tentacle of panic.

Determined not to let Nick see her weakness,
she kept her head up, averting her gaze from the liquid that now stole up her ankles.

Mama?

Keep kicking, Little Orchid.

I’m tired, Mama.

Someone is coming, just keep kicking.

The water is so cold. Mama? Mama!

They were gone. No matter how hard she screamed, the feat made difficult by huge gulps of brine, Briana could not find them beyond the next wave.

“Briana, open your eyes.”

She jerked at the invasion of Nick’s voice. Her eyes flew open, and instead of heaving waves and torrential rain, there was only temperate water swathing gently around her calves. A night sky heralded an array of stars, some of which she could identify by name as her father had taught her. Nick stood a couple feet away, his face dark with concern, his body tense and ready to shift to her aid.

“It’s okay,” he assured. “I’m here. Two more steps and we’ll call it enough.”

“
I’ll
tell you when it’s enough, thank you very much.” Briana’s bravado was staged and sensed miserably that Nick realized it. His muscles relaxed, though.

“Look, seriously, Nick, I have to be getting back. I’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow, like reassess that seawall, speak with my attorney—”

“I’m not going to sue you, and you know it,” he stated mildly.

“I know no such thing.”

Agitated, advancing another step, Briana sucked in air as she felt the water brush against her knees. “And besides, this—me being here,” she waved her arm helplessly, “this is wrong.”

“Only two more steps, Ms. Holt, and we’ll call it a night.”

A curse hissed from her lips. Belligerently, she advanced, but when the water climbed above her knees, any trace of defiance was swept away.

Under the moon, she felt Nick reach for her waist
to guide her the last step until she was pressed against him, left with no recourse but to clasp his shoulders for support.

“Not fair,” she whispered.

“No, it’s not,” he conceded in a husky tone. He hesitated, and added, “What if I told you I wanted to kiss you right now?”

“I’d say that was a foolish thing for you to do.”

“Mmmmm,” His head dipped, and his glance settled on her lips as he murmured, “but I’m going to do it anyway.”

CHAPTER FIVE

She was edgy.

Nick was unsure whether the culprit was his grasp, which secured Briana against him, or the tepid ocean that licked her thighs, inching higher as he invariably drew her backwards.

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps this
was
foolish—particularly when he claimed to be abstaining. But her long body flowed against him like the warm tide. Staring at Briana’s lips, fantasizing how they would taste—it was time to test the water.

One second before his mouth touched hers, he felt the soft
fan of her gasp, and suddenly he shared her fear of the water. He feared drowning. So easily he could sink into this balmy mist of satin and orchids and never surface again.

Under his caress, she trembled, and he felt her fingers squeeze into his shoulders as if he was an anchor to keep her from floating away. Nick dipped in for another kiss, this one a breath longer than the first, and suspected that he too, might have trembled. Restless hands wound around her back, intending to comfort, but the tantalizing dip of her spine, and the even more alluring swell of her bottom made his grip
verge on possessive.

Surrendering a trapped growl,
he felt the lick of Briana’s tongue and he volleyed the invasion as their kiss burned. How was it that this hot union did not produce steam?

And just like that his kiss turned hard, claiming
her mouth in a way that made him feel primal. She arched into him, as his hands kneaded her lower back, prompting her closer until the friction of their fused hips made her cry out. There was no denying the impact of his desire nestled against her. Her quick intake of breath was muffled by his mouth as she yielded with a soft moan and linked her arms behind his neck, holding on for dear life.

Briana’s fingers delved into his hair and instinctively, she burrowed closer, rubbing against that tortured desire
—tearing down his control, making him want. Making him need.

Nick counseled himself to draw back, but his hand mutinously slid up Briana’s back to wind into the
lustrous mane. He used the leverage to tilt her head so that he could access the inviting curve of her throat, and the even more enticing dip into the shadows of her blouse. He caressed her neck with first his lips, and then brushed the soft skin with the tip of his tongue as he felt Briana shiver. He smiled against flesh that possessed a faint taste of salt.

“You
taste good, Ms. Holt.”

“And you,” Briana’s voice was hoarse as she drew back, her palms landing flat against his chest, “
have managed to distract me from the water.”

Nick lifted his head and grinned. “I could go on distracting you for hours.”

Even for days
, he thought. But he wouldn’t ever let it get past that—beyond that brief physical respite that his body undoubtedly sought.

Something had to account for the way he had responded to a simple kiss, though. He was afraid that if he tempted the fates and touched
her again he would be drawn into more than he could handle.

Nick withdrew a step, and they both stared each other down, chests still heaving.

“But, alas, I have to work,” he announced. “Work that would bore you.”

Visibly startled, Briana regrouped with a
tsking
noise and carefully retreated to the sand.

It seemed to Nick that once the lick of the ocean was gone,
she had collected herself and stood on solid ground, arms crossed, awaiting his approach with a near look of envy at his confidence.

“Hard work is never boring no matter what the field,” she chastised.

Oh really?

He
contemplated the beautiful woman who was drenched to the waist. It took all traces of discipline to keep from hauling her inside his bedroom only a few steps away. Interestingly though, her conviction came across before her sexuality, and he believed that she meant what she said.

It was that conviction which he responded to. “I’ll be on Manale Beach tomorrow for some more testing,” Just the slightest hesitation and then he let it flow. “If you get some time away
, will you meet me there?”

 
 ***

Tomorrow was comprised of appointments with surveyors. There was a possible trip to the Big Island to give a presentation on the timeline for the new project, and the return of numerous phone calls for potential contracts.

“Yes,” Briana brushed at her saturated skirt. “I’ll meet you there.”

She caught his grin, and added, “If I have to make arrangements for new construction, I better find out now.”

“Of course.” Nick reached out, the tips of his fingers touching her neck. There was an awkward moment where he stared at her, and she felt the suffocating weight of desire clamp around her chest.

Nick released a breath and said, “Let me drive you back to your car before I do something both of us will regret.”

Naïveté deep within argued that there would be no regrets, but she tossed that belligerent thought aside.

“Wise idea,” she whispered.

Ushering her to the jeep, his touch on the small of her back remained casual as he guided her into the bucket seat. Even after it was gone, she could still feel its impact warming her spine.

Rounding the vehicle, he hesitated with the driver’s door open. Uneasy, he managed a confident wink across the roof.

“I’m taking you to your car and then I’m going to follow you home. I’m not going to come in, so you don’t have to worry about any awkward discouragements. I just want—I want to make sure you get home safe.”

“There is absolu
tely no need for you to do that,” Briana gawked. “I make this drive virtually every night.”

“Maybe,” he accepted, “but you haven’t kissed me every night.”

A rush of sensations assaulted her at the recollection, and she could tell he was recounting them as well.

“Modesty is not your strong suit,
is it?” she goaded with a smile.

He let loose a throaty laugh and hefted a garbage can into the back of the jeep. “No, but wait until you find out what is.”

  ***

Nick pulled up before a meticulously landscaped courtyard. Fountains and well-manicured trees were illuminated by beams submerged in the ground. He glanced up through the open roof of the jeep at the lofty tower with bulging lights trained on its façade. The penthouse was so far removed
that signal lights atop the building cautioned low-flying aircraft.

As he got out and walked back to Briana who had parked behind him, he heard her say, “Okay, I’m waiting for some disparaging remark.”

Glancing first at her, then to the high-rise, and back again, he mused, “It just doesn’t look like a place you would live.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “What were you expecting?”

“Oh, this looks like the home of Briana Holt, General Contractor for Moku Land Inc.” His arm rested against the roof of her car, as he spoke through the open window. “It just doesn’t look like a place
you
would want to live, though.”

“Okay, I’ll bite, where would you imagine me?”

Tempted by a glimpse of the damp skirt that was now soaking into the leather seat, and the bare foot that rested atop the brake pedal, an image formed in his mind. It was an image that bewitched him and baffled him at the same time. His gaze shot back up to the soaring structure.

“I can see you in a bungalow,” he s
tarted softly, “with the windows open and curtains blowing in. You’re wearing just a tee-shirt, and the wind is playing with your hair. You stand on the lanai, watching the ocean with such a serene smile.” He hesitated. “You look like you did on that seawall. A stunning creature made for the island Gods to covet.”

Briana shivered as she listened to the haunting semblance of a dream she often envisioned for herself. The part about the bungalow, that is. This condominium was convenient for work, however. The fantasy of a bungalow along the sea was just that—a fantasy. It was not practical for Briana Holt, the contractor, as Nick had so adroitly pointed out. But the way he had spoken of her
—Briana, the woman—there was a hushed reverence in his voice that captivated her.

What the hell?
This man should not be getting to her like this. She shrugged away the effect and swung open the car door, using it as a barrier between them.

In a business capacity, she was great at handling men. Staring across the car door at a mouth that had made love to her own, she faltered.