Pirate's Gold (12 page)

“Let me make love to you,” he coaxed. His head lowered, and his lips brushed tantalizingly against hers. “Let me make you feel like the woman you are.”

In silent invitation her lips parted and she felt his moist tongue slide between her teeth. The tongue invaded her mouth, arousing within her feelings she had thought dead. She could taste his need; sense the urgency with which he held her. Warm damp pressure was placed against her back. His hands kneaded the soft muscles and traced the length of her spine. A warm flood of prickling desire ran in her veins, and she sighed against him.

“I want you so badly,” she conceded, the ache within her beginning to burn.

“Don't fight it…” His tongue rimmed her lips, teasing her until she groaned in frustration. Her heart pounded as loudly as the restless surf, the emotions grinding within her making her pulse race erratically, the arguments in her mind slowly dimming. She wanted this man. With more desire than she had ever before experienced, she wanted Kyle Sterling. Nothing else seemed important. If she were to fall in love with him, so be it. Let fate cast her what it would. It had been so long since she had been with a man…so long.

His lips warmed a path from her cheek to her neck. She rolled her head to the side, exposing more of her throat to his tantalizing exploration. Her heart threatened to explode within her and a film of perspiration clung to her skin. His hands moved slowly up her back, tracing the muscles until he reached under her hair, to her neck, to the single ribbon that held the bodice of her dress in place. “Let me undress you,” he pleaded hoarsely as his fingers freed the ribbon. The soft fabric dropped, and the cold breath of the sea embraced her naked breasts.

“Oh, God,” Kyle groaned as he stepped backward and watched the silvery moonglow caress each of the supple white mounds. Maren's nipples hardened under his intense stare. Goose bumps rose on her flesh as the sultry wind rushed over her naked torso and caught her hair, ruffling it away from her face.

Standing alone, one hand clasping the dress as it draped over her lower body, her eyes turning silver with the moonlight, Maren didn't move, but returned Kyle's unguarded stare. Surely he could see the hint of love lingering in her gaze; surely he knew that she would willingly give him what she had denied so many.

Kyle raked his fingers through his hair and pondered whether she was the most regally beautiful woman he had ever met. He closed his eyes for a second, hoping that with that one gesture he could stem the rising passion taking hold of his entire body. Desire throbbed in his eardrums and heated his loins.

When he opened his eyes, Maren took a step nearer to him and let go of her dress. It fell limply to the sand, leaving her naked except for her lacy underwear.

Kyle tried to hold back the passion threatening to take him over, body and soul. “If I didn't know better, I might think you were seducing me,” he whispered, just as she reached him and stood on her toes to press her mouth against his lips. Her arms encircled his neck, and her fingers caught in his hair.

“Isn't this what you wanted?” she asked, trying desperately to understand him.

His throat was dry. “Yes,” he whispered, “Oh, yes, but Maren, don't do this to
please
me.” The blood was rushing through his body, his fingers sinking into the soft skin around her waist.

“The only person I'm pleasing is myself,” she lied, hopelessly lost to the fires he ignited within her.

He groaned against her ear. A deep savage noise erupted from his throat and pierced her soul. His thumbs moved upward, tracing each of her ribs until his hands found the weight of her breasts. She sighed as he fondled her and the aching in her breasts was soothed as his hands traced their shape as if he were sculpting her.

“Undress me,” he commanded, taking her hand and pushing it beneath the fabric of his shirt. “I want to be closer to you.” Her fingers pulled the shirt over his head, feeling the strength of each of his rippling muscles.

The hard flat wall of his chest crushed against her breasts, and his lips kissed hers heatedly. Gently he lowered her to the sand and managed to kick off his pants. The cold sand pressed against her buttocks and shoulders while the warmth of his body heated her chest and abdomen. “You're more beautiful than any woman has the right to be,” he confided. He traced the hollow of her throat with his fingers before letting his tongue rim the delicate bones. The heat in her veins sparked when his tongue flattened between her collarbones and then licked downward to rest between her breasts. His hot breath warmed her skin, the smell of the sea permeating her senses, and his hands, God, his loving hands, stroked her skin, softly kneading it until she thought she would go mad with longing.

Fires raged deep within her; aches demanded to be satisfied. His tongue encircled first one nipple and then the other, teasing the dark points until they were rock hard and bursting to be soothed. He pressed his mouth over the brown circle and took the entire nipple in his mouth, suckling her with the bittersweet pleasure of his moist affection. Unconsciously she arched upward to meet his body, and her fingers dug into the hard muscles of his back. She wanted more from him—all of him.

In a deft movement he removed her underpants, and she lay naked against the sand. She moaned her need, but he pulled away, taking one last look at her slim nude body on the sand. Moonlight mingled with passion and tinged her eyes an insatiable shade of blue. Her hair was tousled away from her face, and two points of color pervaded her cheeks.

“You do things to me that I can't explain, love,” he admitted, moving over her and poising his body atop hers. “I feel as if I've waited all my life for this moment.” He lowered his head and bestowed urgent kisses upon her mouth. His body hovered over hers until his weight began to press her down into the cool sand. His legs parted hers slowly, as if by his restraint he could stretch the magic out a little longer; prolong the anticipation until just the right second.

“Make love to me,” she pleaded, unable to restrain herself any longer. “Make love to me, Kyle, and never stop.”

With a moan of surrender, he claimed her, and her sigh of contentment was lost against the sound of the relentless sea. She felt the heat of his passion, his explosion of desire and her answering shudder of surrender. The weight of his body fell against hers, and she knew the supreme ecstasy of resplendent love. Her body melted against his, and she became aware of his uneven breathing against the shell of her ear. Dear God, Maren thought to herself, how easy it is to love this man!

T
HE QUARTER MOON CAST
a thin shifting ribbon of silver on the purple ocean. Stars winked conspiratorially in the blackened sky. Slowly Maren's rapid heartbeat became normal, and she sighed with contentment as she lay in the protective cradle of Kyle's strong arms. His features were shadowed with the night, but the soft moon glow caught in the slate-colored depths of his eyes, making them appear a ghostly silver.

Maren reached upward with her hand and lazily traced the line of his jaw. It was a tender gesture that silently expressed the feelings of love growing within her. He captured her hand with his fingers and kissed her soft fingertips.

“I could get used to this,” he admitted roughly.

“So could I.”

He pulled on his pants before reaching for her dress and gently easing the rose-colored garment up her legs. It was a natural feeling to have him dress her. As natural as it had been for him to remove her clothes. She lowered her head and lifted her hair off her shoulders, allowing him to retie the ribbon. Her skin tingled where his fingers brushed against the back of her neck. It was a strange seductive feeling—one she had never previously experienced. The few times Brandon had helped her dress had been from necessity only. It had never been an erotic experience. But with Kyle, anything he did with her became sensual. Maybe I've been too long without a man, she worried, but managed to push the unlikely thought aside. Long ago she had learned to live without a man, and although many men had been eager to help her forget Brandon's betrayal, Maren hadn't been interested in anything they had to offer. Until she had met Kyle. Whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, she was beginning to fall desperately in love with Kyle Sterling; and love was the one emotion she had vowed to avoid. Falling in love with Kyle could only end in disaster, not only personally but professionally as well.

“I said earlier that I owed you an explanation,” Kyle said softly as they walked back toward the worn staircase.

“It's not necessary,” she replied. She paused to pick up her sandals and slip them onto her feet before taking the hand he offered and climbing the stairs.

“I usually don't talk about my marriage, not to anyone.”

“I'm not asking any questions,” Maren pointed out. “Just because we made love doesn't mean that I need any explanations or confessions from you. You don't have to tell me anything about your life. What happened between us doesn't change that.”

“There are things I would like you to know.”

“Not now,” she sighed as the cool wind touched her back and the full force of her actions taunted her. Why had she let the intimacy growing between Kyle and herself get so far out of hand? Why had she so willingly offered herself to him? “I don't think we should discuss what happened between you and Rose—at least not for a while.”

He hesitated on the steps, and she felt the warmth of his hands on her waist. Rotating to face him, she looked into his eyes. “What are you running from, Maren? What is it about me that scares you?”

“I'm not scared,” she asserted, her chin lifting defiantly, “but I'd be a liar if I didn't admit to being overwhelmed…” A look of genuine confusion darkened her clear indigo eyes. “I don't know if I'm ready for all of this…” she gestured with her upturned palm toward the rambling hacienda and the sea far below.

“Because of your ex-husband?” His voice was low and deadly.

She wanted to lie and tell Kyle that Brandon had no control over her. She needed to explain that her love for her ex-husband had died before ever really blossoming, but the words wouldn't come to her. “I don't love Brandon, if that's what you're inferring.'

Leaning insolently against the worn railing, Kyle's gray eyes accused her of the lie. “Then what is it with you? One minute I get the feeling you want me and the next I sense that you're pulling away. It's as if you won't let me get too close.”

“I'm just not sure how involved I can be right now,” she sighed. The words were difficult to say. “Maybe it would be better if I just left…now.”

His eyes darkened dangerously as he climbed the two steps separating their bodies. “I want you to stay…” Gathering her into his arms, he pressed his lips urgently against hers. His reawakening hunger, savage and raw, was imprinted upon her skin. Her flesh quivered expectantly under his fingertips. “Don't go,” he whispered roughly against her ear. “Stay with me.” Once again his lips found hers in an urgent kiss that silently conveyed the depth of his passion. Warm fingers splayed against her back, and the reasons for leaving him faded into the night.

She dragged her head away from his, hoping that she could find the strength to deny what she so desperately wanted. “I think it would be better if I returned to L.A. tonight. I need time to think things through.”

“I'm not asking for a commitment for the rest of your life,” he reminded her gently.

“I know.” She pulled out of his embrace and felt a pang of regret when he didn't attempt to stop her.

“I'm not a man to beg,” he stated, dark brows drawing over his eyes.

“Good. That will make it easier, won't it?” she managed to reply, hoping to hide the reluctance in her voice. “I'll get the briefcase—” She hurried up the remainder of the steps and raced into the den. By the time he caught up with her, she had the briefcase tucked safely under her arm. “I'll let you know about my decision concerning the sale of the production company after I talk to my attorney.”

He nodded curtly, responding as if he were in a boardroom, with no hint of emotion registering on his rugged features. Handing the jacket to her, he let his fingers touch hers for a moment, but still his face showed no sign of feeling.

His jaw was tight. “And I suppose that you'll do your best work on the series of videos for Mirage.”

“You can count on it,” she responded, her clear blue eyes holding his gaze evenly.

“So that's the way it is—all business with you.”

“When it has to be.”

A shadow of frustration blackened his eyes, but was quickly disguised as she turned toward the door. “Good night, Kyle,” she called over her shoulder, not expecting or receiving a response. He began to follow her, but stopped at the front door and frowned to himself as he watched her leave.

Maren slipped into her car and hesitated only slightly before pushing the key into the ignition and putting the car in gear. Caught in the reflection of her side-view mirror, the well-lit Spanish house stood proudly in the night, silently watching her leave. A sadness settled into her heart as Maren realized that she had just abandoned the most interesting man she had ever met. The darkness of the night seemed to taunt her as she remembered Kyle's warm, inviting embrace.

 

T
HE REMAINDER
of the weekend passed uneventfully for Maren, and though she hoped that Kyle would call, she was disappointed. She tried to keep herself busy and concentrated on ideas for the Mirage videos, but she couldn't put thoughts of Kyle or their short time of lovemaking out of her mind.

When Monday morning finally came, Maren was up at the crack of dawn. As Maren walked through the doors of Festival Productions, the real world came crashing back to her and the distant thoughts of Kyle were replaced by her concern for the production company. When she sat down at her desk, she realized that time had stopped for Festival Productions and the same nagging problems she had left behind her on Friday were still waiting to be solved. Added to her already weighty workload were her concerns about the company. Kyle had insinuated that Festival might still have a problem with pirated videotapes. Though Kyle's manner had been unsuspicious and casual, Maren had been left with the impression that he was concerned about the problem and had brought up the bootlegged tapes as an obscure warning.

As she considered the conversation about the piracy, Maren took the cassette from her purse and placed it in the tape player. Rather than dwell on Kyle's cryptic remarks, she decided to tackle the work ahead of her. Slowly an idea for the Mirage videos was beginning to form in her mind. She pressed the play button on the tape deck and within a split second the inflamed lyrics of “Yesterday's Heart” filled the small office. Maren leaned against the back of her chair, closed her eyes and tried to study the words of the song, but she was unable to block out Kyle's strong image. Would he be like the unfaithful lover in the song? Dear God, she hoped not. Despite her brave words, Maren prayed that Kyle's lovemaking was a form of commitment.

Would it be possible for a man of Kyle Sterling's wealth and reputation to love her with even a fraction of the emotion she harbored for him? She shook her head and pressed her eyelids tightly closed, trying vainly to dispel her love. If she sold the production company to Kyle, she would have to work for him and see him frequently. Was it possible to be an employee by day and lover at night? What would happen if she sold her equity in Festival Productions and Kyle decided that he wasn't interested in her? Could Maren, like the hero in “Yesterday's Heart,” pull herself back together?

The disturbing questions rattled around in her mind, nagging at her until the final strains of the song faded. Without thinking, Maren quickly rewound the tape and listened to the song again. The idea for the video began to expand and she envisioned an action sequence during the final refrain. Absently she started jotting notes to herself as she heard someone arrive in the outer office. Just as the throb of the music disappeared, Jan entered Maren's office with two cups of steaming coffee.

“Mirage?” Jan inquired, placing a cup on Maren's desk. Maren smiled gratefully at the blond secretary. There were deep circles under Jan's brown eyes, evidence of more than one poor night's sleep.

“Yes.” She took a sip of the coffee. “Thanks,” she murmured, as she set down her pencil and leaned back in the chair. “It's a song called ‘Yesterday's Heart': the first single to be released from Mirage's next album.”

Jan held up her palm. “Slow down,” she suggested. “The last I heard, Festival didn't have a signed contract on that album.” Before Maren could respond, the secretary caught on. “Don't tell me—let me guess. The infamous Kyle Sterling, as I predicted, fell at your feet like a penitent lover.”

Maren was forced to smile at Jan's graphic image. “Not quite,” she replied, “but I did manage to get him to sign a few of the contracts.”

“The gentle art of persuasion,” Jan surmised.

“I think we're back in business, at least for the time being,” Maren admitted with obvious relief.

Jan withdrew a cigarette from her purse. “I just hope that one of the contracts belongs to Joey Righteous. That kid's been driving me crazy…” She inhaled deeply on the cigarette and blew a thin stream of smoke toward the ceiling. Some of the tension left her wan features.

“Unfortunately for Joey, we're going to have to concentrate on the Mirage videos first,” Maren asserted, regarding her friend with worried eyes. Jan looked as if she hadn't been able to rest for over a week.

“Joey's going to be fit to be tied,” Jan predicted.

“Isn't he always?”

The secretary chuckled and nodded her blond head in agreement. “Yeah, I suppose he is.”

Maren took another sip from her cup and tapped her pencil nervously on the desktop. She was concerned about Jan and hoped the secretary would open up to her. Even though Maren considered Jan a friend, she hated to pry into her personal life. “Has anyone from production managed to make it in today?”

Shaking her head and blowing out a cloud of blue smoke, Jan frowned. “Not yet, but Ted thought he'd be in around eleven. He's helping edit the final takes of the Mitzi Danner release—”

“Going for Broke?”
Maren guessed.

“That's it.”

“Is there a problem with it?” Maren asked, her dark brows pinching together in worry. The last thing she needed was a problem with Mitzi Danner, whose hot temper was as well-known as her sensual songs. “I thought that tape was supposed to be finished last week.”

“It was.”

“So there was a problem.” Maren experienced a sinking sensation.

“What do you think?”

Smiling at the private joke, Maren looked questioningly at Jan. “Okay, so fill me in—what happened?”

“Don't panic—it wasn't anything
too
serious,” Jan said with an amused laugh. “There were a couple of outdoor shots that came out too dark—probably because the sun had already set by the time Mitzi managed to get herself ready. The final scene of the song was supposed to be backdropped by a setting sun—”

“I remember.”

“Anyway, when Ted realized that the scene was too dark, he convinced Mitzi to reshoot over the weekend.”

“I bet she loved that,” Maren observed sarcastically.

“Well, according to Ted, Mitzi managed to pout throughout the filming.” Jan laughed aloud at the image. “Actually, Ted was pleased. Mitzi's petulant look was perfect for the take.”