In Too Deep (15 page)

He glanced down. She was trying not to laugh, her blue eyes bright with merriment. "What?" he asked.

She made a zipping motion across her pursed lips.

Smiling, he pulled her hands away from her face. "Spit it out, lady. You don't want to know my methods of interrogation."

She giggled. Not like a child, but like the vibrant woman she was. The husky, joyous sound rippled across his skin like a cool breeze. "I was going to s-say—I was going to say—I've
seen
your mighty sword, Sir Black Bart, and I'd recommend you not"—she went off into peals of laughter—"n-not contort yourself."

Michael shook his head, smiling at her silliness. Desire for her burned hotly through all rational thought. He didn't want to
like
her, for Christ sake! "Gives new meaning to the words 'go f—' "

"Nuh-ah." She reached up and put a hand over his mouth. "Be good."

He kissed her palm, then lowered their hands, twining his fingers with hers. "I'll be as good as gold."

"Ha," she scoffed, but continued walking, their hands swinging between them like two teenagers on a date.

He hadn't held hands with a girl in years.

"Boyfriends?"

"A few. Nothing serious. You?"

"Not for a while."

"Ah."

He glanced down at her. "Ah?"

She made an "erase that" motion with her hand. "Ever been married?"

"Engaged. Maria Hammon. Lasted seven months. She left me because I wasn't good enough for her." Tally shot him a look, and he smiled. "I thought you'd like all the details."

She laughed a throaty, sexy as hell laugh that went through him like fine wine. "You are so full of it. Those were
bones
, not facts. Did you just make Maria up on the spot?"

"Scouts' honor, she left me for the local postmaster. They probably have six kids by now."

She was still smiling. "Were you a Scout?"

"Of course, an Eagle Scout, no less. I have the merit badges to prove it."

"Like what?"

"Liiike—Massage 101 through 125."

"You aced those, I bet. Did you practice on little Girl Scouts?"

"Only if their mothers were there," Michael told her with mock solemnity. "Then there was Camping Without Being Eaten Alive By Mosquitoes—"

She laughed. "Would that be the CWBEABM badge?"

"Yeah. That's the one. And the ICSFTMB. Which was a biggy."

"ICS—what?"

"I Can Swim Faster Than My Brothers. Got that one at summer camp. Of course it helped that I was bigger and older, and they didn't know we were in competition."

"You're crazy about them, aren't you?"

"My brothers? Yeah."

"Tell me about them."

"Sure," Michael said easily, "but another time." He'd already shared more of himself with her than he had with any other woman.

"No more nocturnal visitors?" The oppressive heat reminded him of his trip to San Cristobal last year. He was counting the minutes until he could blow something up and get rid of this adrenaline buildup.

"No, thank God."

He'd known the answer before he'd asked. They'd both stayed awake last night. Alert for signs of more intruders, Michael had kept the door to his room wide open. The flimsy locks were useless. Tally's lights had remained on. He'd sat on the darkened lanai outside her room, and watched over her through the night. Dozing on and off. He was trained to sleep lightly. She hadn't slept at all.

It showed in the circles beneath her pretty eyes.

It was fortunate that this op would end tomorrow. It needed to be over soon. He was becoming dangerously fascinated by Trevor Church's daughter.

Despite the lack of sleep the night before, he felt energized. Pumped.
Hell
.

Horny.

Michael was confident he could make her change her no-sex rule with very little persuasion. Every time the lovely Miss Cruise looked at him, he read desire in her eyes. She hadn't denied it, either, which made him want her even more. He could break through that thin veneer of obstinacy in a heartbeat.

Hell, he should. He needed her to trust him, to depend on him. When push came to shove, he wanted her to choose him over Church, and he wanted to rub her father's nose in it.

Thinking about the gentle swell of her breasts in those virginal pajamas made him hard.

Damn it to hell.

He wasn't modest about his sexual prowess. He'd traveled far and wide, and his sexual experience was pretty damn vast. It was something of a hobby of his. A considerable portion of his studies had been more cerebral than physical. Several of his mentors had studied in the East, and although there were only so many body parts—what someone with the right knowledge could do with those parts was downright incredible. And Michael
knew
his way around a woman's body.
Well
.

He would've utilized every nuance of his expertise to get Church's daughter into his bed.

Hell,
she'd
made the preemptive strike.

Which dovetailed rather nicely with his newly formed plans.

Except she wasn't particularly his type. He preferred women with a little more meat on their bones, preferred redheads to brunettes, preferred dark eyes to light… but one thing he
did
like about her was that there was no pretense. Sex had been the Band-Aid for her fear. She admitted enjoying it. She didn't need a Band-Aid anymore. End of story. There'd been no pretence, no coyness, no evasion.

She was streamlined and would be defenseless when he put his mind and, modesty aside, his extensive talents toward seducing her.

In all things, "control" was the operative word for Michael. Control and patience. He'd shown control by not returning to Paradise Island directly from the hospital. He wasn't going off half-cocked. He'd used his infinite patience to study his prey, to recon the island, to meticulously and thoroughly rehearse in his mind exactly what he was going to do. And how he was going to do it.

"This way," she pointed, "or that?"

"That."

Tally Cruise's presence sweetened the pot. Unfortunately, she'd damn near blown his mind. The moment her hot, avid mouth had welcomed his, Michael had forgotten every damn thing he knew about control.

She'd managed to sneak under his skin in a matter of days. Who the hell was in control here? His brain or his penis?

They veered off the beaten path onto the solid folds of
a'a
lava.

"That must be the famous high-tide blowhole Auntie told us about." Tally nodded at the gap in the lava.

Unimpressed—it wasn't high tide—Michael glanced at the opening in the rock as they passed. Behind them, the hillside sloped gently down to the beach and marina. He was more interested in things connected with that than coming up into the hills.

Yet there was a small chance that what he was looking for was up this way. Unlikely, but possible.

"So, Miss Tally Cruise. My life story is now an open book. Tell me more about you."

Heat radiated off the lava rock. Michael, too, wore sturdy boots. Without socks. He hadn't bothered with a shirt, either, and the slight breeze felt great as it dried the perspiration on his skin. "Start with your name. How'd you get a name like Tallulah?"

Their gazes met, and Michael was pleased by the sexual pull he felt. "If one can call the
Reader's Digest
version an open book," Tally groused. Her pupils dilated, but she kept eye contact for several seconds. "Okay. My turn. I was born in London, at the home of one of my mother's friends, and she named me."

Good girl, come into my lair
, Michael thought. "Your mother or her friend?"

"Her friend. My mother didn't have an easy time of childbirth. She sort of… tuned out for a while," Tally said.
Like, twenty-seven years
. "When she got back, Aunt May had named me Tallulah Greta." She laughed. "You can imagine how
that
helped me in school."

"Got back from where?"

"Got back—oh, she went to meet Trevor in Tokyo a few days after I was born. Of course the birth certificate, et cetera, had to be completed. They weren't going to wait forever after all."

"Not even a few days? Or was it weeks?"

"Try a year."

"Your mother left a newborn with a friend for a year?"

"Aunt May was a very
good
friend," Tally said, smiling as she glanced around. "Should we go this way? It looks shorter."

"Sure."

"My mother isn't particularly maternal, I can't fault her for that. I was very well taken care of while she was gone. She made sure I had the best of everything. Her obsession, of course, was for my father. If he whistled, she was there."

"What about you? Did he whistle for you, too?"

"Off and on. He wanted to meet me, see how I was doing. At least that's what my mother insisted. Frankly, I'm not so sure that was true. He wasn't particularly thrilled with how I turned out."

"Why not?"

"Bev is drop-dead gorgeous. She used to be a model—could
still
be a model, if she chose. Trevor is handsome. Movie star handsome."

Michael turned to look at her. "Am I missing something?"

"I don't take after either of them. Bev always says her only child is a changeling."

"Christ, you seem amazingly well-adjusted for a woman with such shallow, self-serving parents."

Tally laughed. "Bev would've happily paid for my therapy if it was needed. Fortunately, I'm pretty well-grounded."

"Other than being scared of the dark." With one finger, he tucked her hair behind her ear. "Did you go to regular school?"

"Mostly boarding schools—plural. She couldn't always leave me with friends, no matter how good a friend they were."

"Where's your mother these days?"

"In Kenya, with friends. Safari. We don't stay in regular contact, although she'll call or e-mail occasionally. I can find her on e-mail if I want to. Of course that doesn't mean she'll reply. We talk at least a couple of times a year."

"Jesus, I can't imagine that kind of relationship with my family. My mother died when I was pretty young, but my father and I are close, and so are all of my brothers and our sister. My grandmother stepped in and took to raising us. God, I miss that old battle-ax. Talk about an iron fist in a velvet glove. Did you happen to notice the painting on the
Nemesis
? The cabin in the woods?"

"I did, yes. It's beautiful."

"Yeah, I think so. My sister, Marnie, painted it. It's the cabin my grandmother owned in the Sierras, where we used to spend our summers."

She smiled. "Sounds like a happy childhood."

"The best. I'm sorry yours wasn't great."

"It was fine. Unconventional, but interesting." Tally smiled. "Honestly, I didn't tell you all that to garner sympathy. I had a perfectly happy childhood. And look at me. I'm all grown up and reasonably normal."

"Yeah, all things considered. Beautiful, impulsive, intelligent, and charming. I'd say you turned out better than they had a right to expect."

"Thank you, sir. Listen, that must be the waterfall."

"Or rain," Michael said as the sky opened. They were drenched within minutes.

"Liquid sunshine." Tally laughed, twirling around, arms open, head tilted up. She stopped spinning and staggered, dizzy and giddy with sheer joie de vivre.

Michael dropped the picnic hamper at his feet, then caught her by the shoulders to steady her. Their eyes met.

"I don't think you should kiss me." Her hands rose to his shoulders, then slid around his neck. His skin was hot, slick with rain. She felt the flex of his muscles as her hands glided over the column of his neck so she could tunnel her fingers through his hair.

He dipped his head, his mouth a breath away from hers. "Is it okay if you kiss me?"

It took her a moment to remember she was the one who'd instigated the no-hands rule. "One wouldn't hurt. Would it?"

Michael's chuckle sounded rusty. "Can you eat one peanut?"

"Sure." Tally rose on her tiptoes to reach his mouth. "I do it all the time." It was
chocolate
she had a problem with. And Michael was dark and rich and decadently tempting.

His mouth closed the scant inches between them and came down on hers.

Because her own blood was racing, because her own heart beat a million miles a minute, Tally expected,
wanted
, the kiss to be hard. What she got was a gentle exploration. His kiss was slow, languorous. As if they had all the time in the world. As if they were in a quiet bedroom, lying on a soft bed. Instead of standing in the rain, on a hard lava bed, in the middle of earth and sky.

At the first feel of his tongue parting her lips, Tally's body went to fever pitch, and her heart beat triple time. So much for good intentions.

He used one large hand to expertly position her head at just the right angle for the most powerful impact. Tally almost sobbed with anticipation. His tongue explored the inside of her mouth, and she engaged it in a war for supremacy. She needed him to match her own hunger. Instead, he was taking his own sweet time, and in the process, torturing her.

Slow—oh, so slow. Nothing she did seemed to rush him. Her tongue challenged his to combat. She felt his laughter as a deep vibration against her chest. She clamped her arms more tightly around his neck. Using both hands, she positioned his head where she wanted him. But Michael realigned their bodies to his own liking.

Tally almost shot out of her already too tight skin. God. The man knew how to kiss. It was almost as though they'd each started on a different radio frequency and slowly, slowly, agonizingly slowly, he was bringing her current into alignment with his own.

He was good. No, he was a
great
kisser.

The scent of his skin, musky, intoxicating, filled her senses. The feel of his rough, unshaved cheeks against the soft skin of her face made her blood flow through her veins like liquid fire.

Her bones felt as fluid as melted butter, her muscles tense with longing. She was wet where the rain hadn't touched. Her heart accelerated, and she couldn't tell up from down. She wanted his hands on her breasts, but when she made a move to withdraw her own arms from about his neck, he pressed her closer, not allowing her to move.