Paradise (14 page)

“Eddie…” His name felt like velvet on her lips. “Eddie.”

The mouth on hers went still, the body rigid.

“Oh, shit. I can’t do this.”

A swish of cold air replaced the burning skin that moments before held her captive. The rustle of nylon alerted her he’d stood.

Please don’t let him light the lantern
. His lovemaking was too intense, too recent to be exposed to the glare. She didn’t want him to see her shaking with lust, or worse, to see the passion and want that she knew still blazed in her eyes.

What would she find in his eyes? Bewilderment? He had no idea she snuck to his side once he fell asleep. Accusations? The week could be as comfortable or awkward as she made it. Regret? Oh, lord, please don’t let it be regret. He was somewhere in the tent, but where? The croaking frogs, which seemed silent minutes ago, now voiced a cacophony that overwhelmed any other sound in the swamp. Of course, she hadn’t heard them. All she’d heard, felt, or inhaled since waking was Eddie.

A sound. The quick intake of air. An expelled breath. Again. It came from near the tent flap. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation.” His deep voice, normally so controlled and measured, lowered into a husky drawl. “What I did was inexcusable. I apologize. You need to know that you’re safe with me. I guarantee, it won’t happen again.”

The tent zipper sounded once. Twice. And he was gone.

She lay stunned. One second she was making love with George of the Jungle, and the next she was alone on a crumpled sleeping bag, chilled to the bone. The tiny shock waves low in her pelvis wouldn’t settle down. He’d aroused her and left her.

Wouldn’t you know? She had to pick a Rebound Man with a conscience. She shivered, missing his touch. Closing her eyes, she re-lived the feel of his lips, his tongue, his hands on her. He wanted her. That solid rod pressing into her thigh had confirmed that. Only some outdated sense of chivalry had kept him from taking her.

Her cheeks flamed. She stood and moved her sleeping bag back to her side of the tent. Sliding in so only her nose peeked out, she willed her heartbeat to slow.

Inhale.
He is my tour guide
. Exhale.
He is not my toy
. Inhale.
He is only doing his job
. Exhale.
He guaranteed it won’t happen again
. Inhale. Exhale.
The hell it won’t
!

Chapter Seven

He sat cross-legged on the platform, watching the rising sun turn the world a hazy gray. Mist lifted from the water like steam from a cup of coffee, emphasizing how very alone they were out here. He’d lost track of time, but it didn’t matter. Time disappeared out here among the cypress.

The damp morning air sent shivers down his back, but he ignored them. Hours ago when he’d left the tent, his body temperature could have burned paper. A few chills would do him good.

She’d pushed him to the edge. It was bad enough he pretended to sleep and allowed her full run of his body. He was flicking matches in a gas can and he knew it, but it was so sweet holding her. Worming half out of her sleeping bag, she’d settled snugly on his chest, sound asleep. Poor thing. Probably hadn’t had this much exercise and fresh air since she’d become a career woman.

When that gator bellowed and she stirred, he should have moved away. He should have set her from him. He should have done anything but hold her tighter.

Once she’d kissed his chin and nestled into him, there’d been no going back. He’d spent two days fighting his attraction to Miss Big City Girl.

She was all wrong. He wanted a nice country girl, lots of kids and the American dream. Nothing could come of a relationship with her. She had her career, her designer clothes, her
New York
job. But God help him, he wanted her.

He gazed into the nothing haze. It reflected back his nothing life. The zip of the tent flap was his first clue he wasn’t alone.

“Tell me you didn’t spend the night out here.”

He tilted his head in acknowledgement but kept his eyes searching the water.

“It’s pleasant. Although, the neighbors are a little rowdy this morning.”

She plopped down cross-legged next to him, leaving a scant inch between their knees. In his peripheral vision, he caught her intense look. Even in the dim light, he couldn’t miss her close scrutiny taking in every inch of his face.

“Do you think I’m mad at you or something?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Hmm, no, no, not in the least.” When he didn’t follow through, she asked, “Was I a disappointment?”

He almost fell off the platform. “A disappoint…no, no, never.”

“Then why are you treating me like a used sandwich bag? You can look at me, you know. I’m not going to melt in embarrassment or anything. So we got caught up in the moment. So what?”

“So what?” He twisted to face her and his breath caught in his throat. The first rays of sunlight glinted off her dark wine hair hanging free about her shoulders, turning it into a fiery cloud. But it was her expression that got to him. Open, friendly, not a trace of guile or condemnation. He turned to gaze out over the water.

She just doesn’t get it.

“Darlin’, let me put this in simple terms. A while ago, I almost, as they say round these parts, I almost had my way with you. Luckily, I came to my senses and…”

“Why do you say ‘luckily’?”

Resting his elbows on his knees, he tented his fingers and leaned his forehead into them. His breath expelled in one long sigh. “I said ‘luckily’ because I meant it. McGraw Tour guides do not go around screwing their clients, especially one that’s going to give a live TV interview.”

“Is that what you’re worried about? That I’ll give you a crummy review and you’ll lose business?”

He cast her a sideways glance, affirming she’d hit the nail on the head -- with a sledge hammer.

“That’s insane.” Her unexpected laugh twinkled in the still morning air. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Tarzan. Before I even left
Florida
, I decided to give you a glowing review no matter what happened.”

He couldn’t take his eyes from her ear-to-ear smile. “You what? Why?”

“Why? Isn’t it obvious? Nick and Fran, and I guess you, went to a lot of trouble and expense to be one of the getaways. Channel Ten can pick and choose they have so many offers. Their pre-drawing publicity alone has got to be worth a fortune. The station milks it out for weeks. You could never afford it if you had to pay for it, right?”

He nodded slowly. “Your point?”

“My point is that everyone in the city hears the promos, watches the drawing, and knows about McGraw Tours. Now, for those few mentally challenged folks who would actually consider this whole ‘let’s go camping with giant reptiles’ thing.” She waved hands back and forth dismissively. “They’re going to watch the review to see if it’s daring, exciting, scenic, tranquil -- pick your word. And guess what? It will be. I’ll give you a better review than the New York Times gave ‘Wicked’ on opening night.”

“I don’t get it? I mean, you only met Fran and Nick for what? A half hour? Why are you doing this?” If ever a person hated something, Roberta Miller hated the Okefenokee. She had no vested interested in helping McGraw Tours.

She raised her knees and wrapped her arms around them. When she turned her head and rested it on her knees, he thought his heart would burst. What a lovely creature -- and she has no idea how stunning she is.

“You silly man. Think about it. If your business increases because of my interview, then that’s a big plus for me. It proves I’m good at marketing a product no matter how distasteful I find that product. It adds another dimension to my career portfolio. I see it as a win/win all around.”

“So, we’re just another line on your resume.” For a moment there, she had him convinced her motives were purely altruistic. It figured her career would be the prime driver.

“Hey, don’t you throw any stones. Seems to me working on Wall Street is pretty dog-eat-dog.”

He had a quick flashback to sweating his socks off with every little dip in the stock market. She was right. Who was he to judge? “Actually,” he couldn’t resist giving her a wink, “I preferred the gator-eat-gator comparison -- tastes like chicken.” He laughed aloud when she punched him in the shoulder.

Her smile disappeared but was replaced by a smoky, sultry gaze. “So now that we’ve established I won’t trash McGraw Tours on Channel Ten, why can’t we, um, you know.”

Her look bypassed his brain and went straight for his crotch. My God, she wanted to have sex? Out and out asking for it? To have her like last night but without the guilt, without stopping?

His hand moved a scant second before his brain kicked in. He diverted the arm that would have pulled her to him and scrubbed his face. The sun was up now. It was going to be another beautiful day. Hmm, sex with Miss Designer Jeans.

“I didn’t peg you for a party girl.” His words sounded harsh, especially after her generous offer. “I mean, you don’t strike me as someone who likes one night stands.”

“I’m not,” she said a little too quickly. “It’s just that I thought you…and before…and, well, why not?” Her determined tone picked up speed and a little volume. “We’ve already established neither of us is committed to anyone else. Would it be so terrible if we had a little fling?”

Would it? What if they did have a short affair? What would it matter? He could have her. She wanted him. What was he waiting for? God, he’d give anything to make love with her.

It was easier to look out over the swamp than at her, but its calm, early morning serenity did nothing to still the thud in his chest. It all came together, his attraction to her at Maisie’s, seeing her with little Drew, holding her while she slept.

Shit. He didn’t want a fling. He wanted her. Crazy as it was, he saw her in his house, feeding a baby in a highchair; greeting him at the door with a wild, passionate kiss; driving a van full of kids in soccer uniforms.

Stretching out his legs, he leaned back on his elbows. He’d traveled a long road to get where he was. To finally know what he wanted in life. Cheesy affairs weren’t a part of it anymore.

“If you’d asked me two years ago, I’d have had you right here, right now. I don’t mean to sound disrespectful or ungrateful. I’m flattered, really I am. But, sorry, been there, done that, bought dozens of those t-shirts.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her rub her forehead against her knees. Great. Now he’d embarrassed her. He hurried to explain.

“At this point in my life, I’m looking for something else. You met my brother. I want what he’s got. A wife, kids, the white house with the picket fence. A few nights in the sack just won’t do it for me anymore. I’m looking for a long term, emotional investment.”

Should he tell her he could easily see her in the starring role of wife? That the main reason he couldn’t have an affair was because once he had her he wouldn’t let her walk away? He’d never believed in that love at first sight crap, but she’d gotten under his skin in record time.

She shifted to look at him. “You sound like a broker. ‘Long term investment.’ Cripes. You sure know how to turn a girl’s head.” A smile played at the corners of her mouth as her eyes shifted down his body. For the first time since she’d joined him, he remembered he was shirtless. Her slow perusal heightened his semi-aroused state, and when her gaze lingered on his groin, there was no way to hide the bulge in his pants.

“I won’t say I don’t find your offer tempting,” he said. “In fact, I’m thinking I’m plum crazy for not taking you up on it. But you’re too sweet a morsel to have for only a couple of days. I’ve a feeling you’d become habit forming, maybe even addictive. Nah, it’s probably best we don’t start anything.”

It about killed him to say it, but he was already in over his head where she was concerned, and it wouldn’t be smart to get in any deeper.