Lead Me On (19 page)

"Here." He straightened abruptly and handed the paper to her. "Will you fax this for me? To the name and number I've written on the back. I'll pay for the call, naturally."

She glanced at the paper before she placed it in the fax tray. Within the rectangle, he'd written the words "A Novel by Scott Lawrence" in bold block letters. When the document was on its way, she looked up at him. "Care to tell me what this is all about?"

"My publisher's threatening to cancel my contract."

Shock came first. "Why would they do that? It doesn't make sense. You're a huge bestseller."

"They're publishers." He shrugged. "They don't have to make sense."

"But can they get away with it?"

"If they can prove I broke a clause, they can do anything they want." He started pacing again. "The stupid thing is, until I heard from Hugh yesterday, I was on a roll. Since then, every scene I've written stinks. Why is it so hard for them to leave me alone and let me do what they're paying me to do?" He hung his head in defeat. "Maybe I should quit writing. Nothing is worth this much grief."

"You don't mean that." She came around the desk, half afraid he did mean it this time.

"It's just that writing a book is mentally grueling enough. Why do they have to make it even harder?"

Recognizing a creative spirit that needed pampering, she stepped closer, placed both hands on his shoulders, and began to massage. "What can I do to make it less hard?"

He gave a dry laugh. "Not that, I assure you."

She concentrated on kneading the stiff muscles to either side of his neck. "You really are tense. Why don't you sit down and let me give you a back rub?"

"Allison ..." He took hold of her wrists. "This is not a good idea. Believe me."

She looked up, confused, until she saw the look in his eyes. Hunger. Heat. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh,' " he repeated and rubbed his thumbs against her wrists, making her pulse jump. "I'm not a saint. So if you want me to stick to our agreement, you need to keep a little distance, okay?"

"I see." Recklessness battled back good sense. "About our agreement ... I've been thinking ... maybe we should do what you suggested and 'renegotiate.' "

He stared at her, his expression guarded.

Licking her lips, she forged on. "It's just that, well, you really aren't going to be here all that long, so I was thinking, how dangerous would it be if we ..."

Her courage faltered and she fell silent, gazing up at him, waiting for a response.

Scott told himself to pull away. She had no idea he was the son of the man who was trying to destroy her inn, and he had no right to take advantage of her ignorance. True, he had been keeping steady tabs on the lawsuits, trying to reason with his father through the lawyers, but that didn't change the facts. In Allison's eyes, the LeRoches were all the same, and when she found out he was one of them, she'd see his silence as deceit

But gazing down into her hopeful gray eyes, it was hard to think about their family history or future consequences. He could only think of now. A now that had Allison standing a hairsbreadth away, wanting to be kissed. When he continued to hesitate, a flicker of hurt entered her eyes, and he couldn't bear it.

Telling himself it was only a kiss, just one last kiss, he lowered his mouth to hers. Sweet. God in heaven, she was so unbelievably sweet. With a moan, he gathered her in his arms and let himself sink. She returned the kiss with all the unschooled passion that drove him mad. Closing his eyes, he drowned in the pleasure of holding her again. In the back of his mind, his conscience shouted a warning but need outweighed good intentions.

He cupped the back of her head and kissed her endlessly, thinking he could live forever on the taste of her mouth alone. His hunger spurred her own and she moved against him, like a kitten rubbing him with her body, demanding to be petted. He leaned back against the desk, pulling her with him until she stood between his thighs, her soft belly cradling his arousal. The warning screamed louder, but he refused to listen as the rip current pulled him under.

Her head fell back with a moan of pleasure when he kissed her neck. "Yes," she whispered. "We definitely need to rethink the rules. One night isn't enough."

No, it wasn't. A million nights wouldn't be enough with her. He wanted to fill his life with loving her.

The thought stopped him cold.

Opening his eyes, he stared at her and realized the alarm clanging in his brain had very little to do with the possibility of her hating him. It had to do with the things she stirred inside him, an intensity of longing that went beyond lust. An unfamiliar emotion ballooned inside him until suddenly he couldn't breathe.

He jerked back and nearly toppled onto the desktop.

"Scott?" She braced her hands against his chest to keep from falling on top of him. "Are you all right?"

"Yes."
No!
He pushed her back to arm's length as his heart pounded. "I'm fine. It's just ... we can't do this." When she frowned, his mind raced. "We can't because ... the door's open."

An impish grin pulled at her lips. "We could always close it."

"And have your brother walk in on us?"

"You're right. We'll have to be discreet." A wicked gleam sparkled in her eyes. "What if I come to your room tonight, when everyone else is in bed?"

"No! You can't"

"Why not?" She frowned.

"Because I ..."
I what?
Nothing came to mind, and he watched the confusion turn slowly to hurt.

"Oh, I see." She pulled away, looking mortally embarrassed. "My mistake. The other night you said ... never mind ... I just thought you were still interested—"

"Of course I'm interested." How could she doubt that after the way he'd nearly devoured her whole? "It's just that I'm ... busy."
Okay, that worked.
"I'm really, really busy right now."

She stared at him as the embarrassment in her eyes turned to disbelief, then anger. "You're too busy for sex? Since when is any man too busy for that?"

So maybe the busy excuse didn't work. "Allison, I—"

The phone rang and he sagged in relief.

She reached around him and jerked up the receiver. "Pearl Island Inn." After listening to the person on the other end, she held the phone out to him with a fumigating look. "It's for you."

He took the phone gratefully. "Scott, here."

"What is this!" Penny Nichols squawked, and he'd never been so happy to hear his editor's nasally voice.

"What is what?"

"This fax you just sent."

"You said you wanted a book outline, so that's what I sent you. The outline of a book."

He watched as Allison stalked toward the door, then stopped to give him one last glare over her shoulder. Her anger was good, he told himself. Much better than having her warm, tempting, and willing in his arms. But the look she gave him cut straight through to his heart.

"Cute, Lawrence," his editor said. "What's your point?"

His gaze held Allison's as he answered. "The point is, I need you to trust me."

Allison's mouth thinned before she turned and left him standing there.

"All right," Penny growled. "You win. I'll authorize payment of your outline-approval check. Are you happy?"

"Ecstatic," he said, even though nothing could be further from the truth.

He glanced in the direction Allison had gone and remembered that strange, unfamiliar sensation that had moved through him, and the panic threatened to return. If that sensation was what he feared, he had a much bigger problem than he realized. He'd always considered falling in love akin to losing one's sanity. But for him to fall for Allison St. Claire would be emotional suicide. Thank goodness he'd spotted the danger in time. Now he just needed to stay as far away from her as possible.

Too busy to have sex? Ha! Like she was going to believe that. She wanted to wring Scott's neck. Here she'd agonized for days about sleeping with him again, wondering if he wanted to, worrying about the complication. A torment of indecision. Then, when she finally makes up her mind, he says he's too busy?

She couldn't believe it.

She didn't believe it.

Not after that kiss!

Only, why would he lie about such a thing? She pondered it for the rest of that day as the hurt of rejection wrestled with anger. By the following morning, though, anger had won out. How dare he lie to her? He had a right to tell her no, but he could have the decency to give her a reason rather than a ridiculous excuse. As petty as it was, she wanted him to pay for that. Not in a huge way—she wasn't that childish—but she did want him to pay just a tiny bit for the days of soul-searching he'd put her through, only to be rejected with a lie.

Finally, she hit upon a subtle yet perfect way to extract revenge. Unfortunately, her plan would only work if he really did still want her. If he didn't, she was about to make a colossal fool of herself.

Trying not to think about the potential humiliation, she carried a bucket of cleaning supplies and fresh linens to his room and gave the door a brisk knock. "It's Allison. You decent?"

"Yes, come in," he called.

Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door. He sat at the little desk by the windows that overlooked the cove. Afternoon sunlight filled the room. As if oblivious to it, he stared at the laptop screen—as he always did when she came to clean his room.

"Making progress?" she asked, her voice cheerful.

"Some." He answered without looking up.

So, he was going to pretend nothing had happened yesterday. Her eyes narrowed with determination. "Well, don't mind me, I'll be out of your way in a jiff."

"Take your time."

Humming a tune, she carried her bucket of cleaning supplies into the bathroom first, not that the room needed much cleaning. Scott was one of the neatest guests they'd ever had. Once the sink area and shower were sparkling, she headed back into the main room to change the sheets.

She watched him in the mirror on the armoire as she bent forward to strip the sheets. She'd worn a gauzy sundress without a slip. While it wasn't indecent, she hoped the hint of her silhouette would attract his attention. At first, he didn't look. Then his gaze strayed to her backside and the heat that smoldered in his eyes bolstered her courage. "Google eyes," as Chloe would say.

Oh yes, Scott Lawrence wanted her, all right. To torture him just a bit, she bent over as frequently as possible as she finished making the bed. The minute she straightened and turned, though, his attention snapped back to his computer screen and his fingers started clicking away at the keyboard.

Swaying her hips, she headed for the sitting area with a feather duster. His fingers stilled on the keyboard when she moved by him, leaving a faint trail of the perfume she'd dabbed on before coming upstairs.

Scott's nostrils flared in an effort to catch the scent. Winsome and mysterious, like some rare night-blooming flower.

"Do you want me to dust off the desk?"

"No!" he answered abruptly. Pushing her away yesterday had nearly killed him. No way did he want her that close again.

"Very well." She moved about the sitting area, shaking out curtains and fluffing the little decorative pillows on the settee. Sunlight poured over her, making her look as ethereal as she had the first time he'd seen her. Then he realized the light shone straight through her dress, outlining her legs. Oh God. A bolt of desire shot to his groin.

He dipped his head forward and shielded his eyes with one hand.

"Scott?" she said, and the sound of his name spoken with that proper, lady-of-the-manor voice sent another jolt through his senses. "I know you're terribly busy, and I hate to bother you, but I've been wondering about something."

"Yes?"
Just don't look at her,
he told himself.
Don't look and you'll be fine.

"It's about my voice. You said it turned you on, something about it making you ... 'hot.' I believe that was your word ... so I was wondering, do you think it has that effect on other men?"

Slowly, he raised his head and looked at her over his hand. She stood there, her expression so innocent, she all but blinked her eyes at him. "Why do you ask?"

"I just thought it would be a good thing to know. If my voice does turn men on, maybe I could learn to use it more effectively. You know, practice some of the words and phrases that would get a man excited. Like phone sex, where a woman can get a man so aroused just with words that he ..." Color stained her cheeks.

"Is satisfied?"

"Tactfully put." She sighed a bit in relief, but the determined glint in her eyes had him on full alert. "That seems like a useful skill, as useful as knowing how to touch a man in ways that make his blood rush and his body ... quiver."

Her voice dropped in pitch on the last word, making him want to do exactly what she said. Quiver. He cleared his throat. "Yes, words are powerful, but then, I suspect you know that."

"Actually, I never thought about it before, but they really are, aren't they?" The newfound power sparkled in her eyes, an irresistible combination with her flushed cheeks and the sunlight glowing in her hair—and through her skirt. "When you hear something described, you can almost feel it physically. For instance, if I said something like, 'I want to taste your skin against my tongue and feel the heat of your body covering mine,' would that get a man aroused?"

His groin went so hard he grimaced. "Yeah, I'd say that would pretty much do it."

She moved closer, graceful and seductive. He leaned back, bracing his hands against the desk. "But surely that's only the beginning. I wonder how one learns to talk provocatively enough to send a lover ... over the edge."

"Somehow I don't think you need lessons."

"So you think I could excite a man, get him hot and hard, with words alone?"

"I think it's possible, yes."

"Hmm." She purred, stroking her throat with her fingertips, making him long to kiss her there and feel her pulse pound against his lips as he breathed in her mind-numbing scent. "That gives me something to think about." A smile as mysterious as Mona Lisa's curved her lips. "Thanks for taking the time to answer. I'll, um, let you get back to work. Since I know how very 'busy' you are."

She gathered the dirty sheets and the bucket of cleaning supplies and left.

He dropped his face into his hands.
Help.

A memory flashed in his mind from the day he'd arrived, when he'd asked Marguerite to make Allison a
little less of a nice girl. Lifting his head, he looked about the room. "Is it too late to change my mind?"

~ ~ ~

Allison's campaign to get back at Scott worked so well that by Saturday, she was practically singing, and would have been except she'd discovered she was wielding a double-edged sword. True, he looked more flustered each time she questioned him about the finer points of "verbal sex," but each encounter left her itchy all day and restless at night.

It was worth it, though. Especially since now he'd started to sweat the minute she entered his room, before she even said a word.

A feline smile curved her lips as she topped bowls of crisp lettuce with chilled shrimp. Scott was on the verge of begging her to sleep with him and she was going to have the supreme pleasure of telling him she was "too busy."

"What next?" Chloe asked. The girl had become a regular little helper around the inn, offering to do odd jobs to keep from being bored. And—Alli suspected—to get Adrian's attention. Ah, the agony of a first crush. At twelve, it was still innocent enough to be sweet.

"Let's see." She pulled her mind away from Scott to concentrate on making shrimp Caesar salad for the crowd that had just descended upon them. Each Saturday they served lunch on the veranda as part of Captain Bob's Big Bay Boat Tours. "Parmesan cheese. You should find a block of it in the fridge."

Chloe crossed to the refrigerator just as Paige entered the kitchen—petite and blonde and graceful as always. She might help her husband run the tour boat, but she still looked like she should be lounging at the country club. She even made the tour-guide uniform of white shirt and navy-blue shorts look like the latest designer fashion, complete with diamonds at the ears and a tennis bracelet that could blind a person in strong sunlight.

"Good morning," Paige said brightly.

"Good morning to you," Allison answered with a smile.

"Well, you're in a good mood," Paige noted. "And here I thought to rescue you by offering to help."

"On a Saturday, I'll always take help," Allison laughed.

Chloe pulled her head out of the refrigerator to hold up a block of hard white cheese. "Is this what I'm looking for?"

"That's it." Allison nodded toward a drawer. "The grater's in there."

Paige raised a brow as she joined Allison at the center island that functioned as a workstation. "I didn't know you'd hired help."

"Well, sort of." Allison transferred salad bowls to a large serving tray. "Chloe's actually a guest, but she enjoys helping out. Chloe, meet Paige."

"Pleased to meet you," Paige said as she fell easily into the rhythm of assembling salads. "I noticed Aurora working in the gift shop. That's a switch." Normally Allison worked the shop on Saturdays, dressed in her Southern belle costume, while Adrian and Chance waited tables in their pirate costumes. Rory had been working the kitchen the last few months, since she couldn't fit her stomach into her own costume.

"Her ankles are so swollen lately, she has trouble standing for long periods," Allison explained. "We all thought the gift shop would be less taxing for her right now."

"I guess she's getting pretty close to her due date. How's she feeling?"

"Fine, she says." Allison's happy mood dimmed as she fought the growing urge to turn and run every time the subject of the baby came up. When she thought of Rory in labor, of all the possible complications to both the mother and child, fear slid beneath her skin like ice.

"Hey there, Paige." Chance came striding in wearing a big-sleeved white shirt, wide leather belt, and tight pants tucked into black boots. He set a tray on the counter and started filling the sink with dirty soup bowls. "That's quite a crowd you brought today."

"And tourist season isn't even in full swing." Paige shook her head in amazement. "Bobby wants to talk to y'all about adding a dinner run this summer."

Chance blew out a breath. "Let's wait until after the baby comes, then maybe we can all think straight enough to talk. Alli, do you have a tray ready?"

She finish grating cheese over the salads. "Take it away."

He shouldered the full tray as if he'd been waiting tables for years, rather than working behind a desk at a bank.

Adrian came in next looking every inch the dashing pirate with his ponytail, small gold earring, and jackboots. Chloe stopped work and sighed out loud. Allison hid a smile at the girl's obvious crush.

"We're going to need more iced tea," he said.

"I'll get it!" Chloe offered and rushed to the commercial-sized coffee maker they used for brewing tea as Adrian balanced a second tray on one hand over his head and headed out.

And so it went for the next half hour: soup, salad, homemade bread, and huge slices of sigh-inducing chocolate cake went out while dirty dishes came in. As the tourists finished their meals, they wandered into the gift shop or down to the cove for a walk along the beach.

The steady pace kept Allison's mind off Scott ... until he strolled into the kitchen just as she was finishing the dishes.