Rub It In (6 page)

Past tense. Not anymore. Which meant there was no reason to deny what he wanted.

The fantasy that had been haunting him since he’d opened that damn bottle of shampoo burst through his brain again.

He wanted Marcy. And he was a man who usually got what he wanted.

* * *

M
ARCY
HAD
NO
IDEA
what was going on behind those devilish blue eyes, but whatever it was made her…uncomfortable. In fact, she’d been uncomfortable since the moment Simon walked through her door.

She reached up and fiddled with the straps of her tank top. Why was she suddenly so hot? The stove. That’s what it was.

In a flurry of activity, Marcy began clearing the dishes off the table. The mundane chore allowed her to not only turn her back on Simon and the effervescent feeling he stirred in the pit of her stomach, but also to hopefully speed up his departure.

Dinner was over. He’d had a shower. And now he could leave.

Marcy’s lips were suddenly dry and tight. She ran her tongue across them to try to find some relief. It didn’t help.

Frowning, she turned back to grab another handful of dishes and nearly collided with Simon. His hands were full of her favorite dishes, so he couldn’t reach out and steady her. Instead, he jerked the plates above their heads and pressed the line of his body against hers, giving her a solid surface to rest against.

That rolling, bubbling sensation in her stomach erupted, spilling through her entire body. Her skin tingled from the inside out, the tiny hairs running down her arms standing at attention.

She’d never in her life responded that way to a man touching her. It was overwhelming and she didn’t like it at all.

Taking a step back, she put much-needed space between them. Simon simply followed, towering above her. She was sensitive to her small stature, sometimes overly sensitive. But she was used to people—especially men—looming over her. She didn’t let it bother her. She couldn’t afford that kind of weakness, not in the hotel business, where she had to handle not only prickly executives but also pushy guests.

Simon bothered her. Standing in front of her, his body curved slightly as if he could completely engulf her at any moment… She wanted to fidget, to slip out from under him and stand on her tiptoes. But that would show her vulnerability and she refused to do that.

Instead, she dropped her head back and stared up, up, up into his eyes. She would not let him intimidate her.

He set the plates onto the counter on either side of her. His arms stretched around her as he leaned closer. Her lungs filled with that damn scent—crisp and clean and somehow wild… . Although tonight there was something new beneath it, floral and sweet. The combination made her picture the two of them together. Naked. She tried to hold her breath so she wouldn’t pull any more in. Surely now that his hands were empty, he’d move away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he gripped the counter. The heat of his body melted into her. It should have been irritating, but instead, her muscles responded. They went lax and she was suddenly glad for the edge of the counter that pressed into the small of her back and kept her from hitting the floor.

Marcy swallowed and looked up into Simon’s eyes again. Her throat went dry at what she saw there. They were dark, the smoldering blue almost completely obscured by his expanding pupils. Gone was the jovial, irreverent expression that seemed to be his constant companion, replaced by a calculating intensity that scared her senseless.

She wanted to say something. To make him stop looking at her that way because it made her body do unfamiliar and uncontrollable things. A throbbing ache settled at the apex of her thighs.

This was not good.

She wanted to move, but she couldn’t. Her feet were frozen to the floor.

His eyes searched her face, for what she wasn’t sure, but whatever it was he found it. Leaning closer, he nuzzled the curve where her neck and shoulder met. No,
nuzzle
was the wrong word. He didn’t actually touch her, but she could feel him there.

The drag of air across her skin as he pulled it deep into his lungs was almost more devastating than if he’d actually touched her. That she could have fought against. At least, that’s what she told herself.

“Lavender,” he whispered, the word stirring strands of her hair as they tickled her cheek.

Her lips fell open. She couldn’t help herself. Her mouth tingled and pulsed with a need she didn’t want.

His lips pressed against hers. He didn’t overwhelm her as she might have expected he would. He didn’t even press inside the open invitation of her mouth. Instead, he simply savored the connection, brushing his mouth lightly across hers.

Her fingers tightened around the counter. She wanted to reach for him, but still had enough brainpower to realize that was a bad idea. One step a little too far.

As kisses went…it was disappointing. Not because it wasn’t devastating, but because it was. It was so perfect and sweet, so unexpected, that Marcy found herself wishing it would go on forever. And it didn’t. That was the disappointing part.

He sighed as he pulled away from her. His eyes were heavy lidded, sexy. They glittered at her with a heat that belied the softness of what he’d just done.

Simon wanted her.

It was obvious.

And her body agreed. It wanted to do whatever he wanted. Lightning sensations licked across her skin, crackling and zinging and making it hard to catch her breath.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said, taking a small step away.

This time when her hands clenched it was because she wanted to reach out and pull him back to her. To plaster him full-length along her naked skin and rub against him in an effort to find some relief for the fire he’d built deep in her belly.

But she didn’t. Instead, she nodded her head and watched as he walked away.

The quiet click of the door was like a gunshot, finally galvanizing her into action. She crossed her home in three strides, snatched the door open and rushed out onto the tiny covered porch.

He was already several feet down the path leading back to the main buildings of the resort. But he must have heard the sound of her door, because he stopped and turned to look at her.

The island was dark, the moon only a sliver that did little to dispel the night. His entire face was in shadow, but somehow his eyes still managed to flash.

His body, usually loose and languid, was straight and tight. She could see the tension in his muscles as he took one step toward her. She knew what he thought—that she’d rushed outside to stop him from leaving.

Instead, she shook her head, one quick motion that had him pulling up short.

There were a lot of questions swimming around inside her head. She didn’t know which ones to ask. Which ones she really wanted an answer to. She settled for the most obvious—and hopefully the least dangerous.

“Why did you do that?” Her voice was low and rough, almost unrecognizable to her own ears.

His white teeth flashed in the darkness, their quick appearance her only indication of his smile. It was the first thing that felt familiar. She’d seen it often, that irreverent, self-deprecating, unapologetic twist of his lips that usually drove her crazy because she knew it wasn’t real.

Taking several steps backward, he finally answered, “Because I wanted to.”

6

“B
ECAUSE
I
WANTED
TO
,” Marcy grumbled to herself. Of course he did. The man didn’t care what anyone else wanted or thought. Did he ask her first if he could kiss her? No. He just went ahead and took what he wanted.

Marcy, after a restless night of tossing and turning, was building up a healthy head of steam. She was also trying to convince herself that if he had asked first she would have said no.

But the little voice inside her head called her a liar.

She ignored it.

The problem was that he didn’t really want her. He didn’t find her sexy. If he had, he would have shown some sign of it before now.

She ignored the
hypocrite
that reverberated through her brain. She’d been fighting her own awareness of the man for the past two years and hadn’t given any indication of it. At least until last night.

He just wanted to fluster her. To set her off center. He probably hoped to use her reaction in some harebrained attempt to convince her to come back to work.

It wasn’t going to happen.

Her interview had gone very well this morning. It had been difficult considering her laptop screen was small and four people—Mr Bledsoe, and three of his executives—had been present. But they’d asked tough questions and she was happy with her answers.

And to make sure Simon couldn’t convince her to do something stupid—like stay—she intended to get as far away from the resort as physically possible.

Grabbing a tattered backpack from her closet, Marcy filled it with several things—a soft blanket, some paperbacks, a couple sandwiches, snacks and several bottles of water. Beneath the cutoff jean shorts and stretch-necked T-shirt, she wore her bathing suit. Including yesterday, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d worn the thing since coming to the island.

Over the next few days she planned to remedy that.

Starting with a hike out to the waterfall tucked into the heart of the jungle on the uninhabited side of the island. How many times had she heard the guests gushing about the beauty of the secluded spot? How many times had she pointed a couple to the head of the path and promised them a wonderful time?

The problem was she had to take everyone else’s assurances of that because she’d never made the time to go there herself. As if she ever had an afternoon free for hiking. Or a massage or a ballroom lesson or a few quiet hours on the beach.

She flung the pack over one shoulder. Habit had her reaching for the two-way radio that sat on the charger on the small table next to the door. Her fingers brushed across the plastic before she caught herself. Pulling her hand back and cradling it against her body as if it had been burned, she stared at the thing.

Taking it would be smart. It was unusual for anyone to get lost out in the jungle, but it did happen. Just a few months ago, Colt and Lena, guests who were being photographed for an Escape ad campaign, had been stuck out there overnight. And she was hiking alone. Being able to contact Xavier if there was an emergency wouldn’t be a bad idea.

And if anything else came across the radio, she’d simply turn the volume down. She didn’t have to respond or pay attention.

Reaching out with a lightning motion, Marcy palmed the thing and stuffed it into the front pocket before she could change her mind.

A few minutes later the soft trill of birds and the muted chatter of unseen animals welcomed her. It was decidedly cooler beneath the cover of the trees—not that the days were sweltering or anything. While fall didn’t bring the change of seasons she’d grown used to in New York, there was a difference, however small.

The biggest problem they had at this time of year was hurricanes, which was one of the reasons they always closed the resort during the fall. While they offered lots of discounts to appeal to frugal travelers, quite a few of them resisted the Caribbean and the potential for their dream vacation to turn into a nightmare with torrential rains and damaging winds. So it wasn’t difficult for the resort to carve out two weeks for routine maintenance and repairs, as well as staff vacations.

They’d been lucky lately and hadn’t dealt with any major storms in several years. But she knew the island had taken some pretty major hits in the past. The resort had even been closed at one time because of damage the previous owner couldn’t afford to fix.

But Marcy wasn’t worried about storms, not surrounded by the thickness of the jungle. The tension that had stretched across her shoulders began to ease. She took a deep breath and held it in her lungs. Everything smelled moist, green and vibrant.

The sudden urge to hurry overtook her and she began to run. The balls of her feet barely touched the ground before springing up again. The exercise felt great, something she’d definitely been neglecting in her work-focused fog. Her muscles protested after a little while—there was no question she was slightly out of shape.

She was going to fix that, though, as soon as she got back to New York. She was going to make a few changes in her priorities, starting with taking better care of herself. Although she had to admit staring at the nondescript walls of a gym would have little appeal after the natural beauty of the jungle.

Marcy heard the waterfall long before she saw it. The path became lighter and lighter, making her realize just how dark and dense the jungle had been around her. Breaking through the opening at the end of the path, she stopped to take it all in.

Despite the force of the water breaking against the rocks below, the entire place had a sense of…quiet. It was old, powerful. Marcy let her eyes wander for a few moments, taking everything in. The water looked inviting, but she wasn’t ready for a swim.

Her eyes were drawn to the top of the falls. That’s where she wanted to go. From up there she’d be able to see everything.

It took her almost twenty minutes to walk around the collecting pool to the far side of the falls and the only way up she could find. The rocks were a little slippery from the wayward spray of the water, but she managed to climb up safely.

There was a small patch of grass, more lush than anything below, spongy and soft. She slipped off her shoes and socks and wiggled her toes. The thick blades tickled the bottom of her feet. Sunlight, unfettered by the trees surrounding the area, fell directly over the patch.

Dropping her pack, Marcy took out the blanket and spread it in the sunshine. Her original plan was to read her book, but she barely got a few pages in before exhaustion stole through her body, weighting her limbs and eyelids.

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. The underside of the leaves above her looked down. The loud roar of the water faded to background noise. A smile touched the corners of her lips and just as she drifted off to sleep an image of Simon popped into her head.

Towering over her—when didn’t he?—he watched her with that same intense, smoldering gaze he’d used on her last night. And this time when he kissed her, he didn’t pull away. And she didn’t tell him to stop.

Instead, he slowly, deliberately drove her mad.

So much for escaping him in the jungle.

* * *

S
IMON
CROUCHED
next to Marcy, running a single finger down the scrunched bridge of her nose. Even in sleep she looked frustrated. Wasn’t a nap in the sunshine supposed to ease that kind of stress?

Her skin was soft. It smoothed out beneath his fingers, her entire face easing. The corners of her lips twitched and she rolled her head closer against his hand. His palm cupped her cheek, the warmth of her sun-warmed skin seeping into him. She mumbled something that he couldn’t catch and then sighed his name.

Need, hard and sharp, twisted deep inside. He wanted to startle her awake, to strip her bare and take her here on the soft patch of grass. Resisting, he dropped to his knees beside her and went slowly, letting his fingers tickle across the exposed curve of her shoulder. The neck of her T-shirt was stretched out, pulled tight on one side and hanging halfway down her shoulder on the other.

Tiny freckles dotted her skin. They were cute and unexpected. He wanted to reach down and kiss every single one, but refrained. He trailed his fingers up her throat. Even in sleep, she moved toward him, revealing more skin for him to play with.

Her eyes fluttered beneath closed lids and her soft pink lips parted. Reaching with the other hand, he let it trail softly down the outside curve of her thigh. Circling her knee, he moved back up. Her legs were toned and tanned, although he had no idea when she took the time to sit in the sun. At least, not before the past two days.

She rolled beneath his caress, parting her legs and opening herself to him as he moved higher. A brief spurt of guilt shot through him, but he pushed it away. He had no intention of taking advantage of her. Although her unconscious response to him was gratifying. And probably more real than anything she’d shown him before now.

At least now he knew for sure that he hadn’t been mistaken last night, or so overrun by his own lust that he’d imagined something that wasn’t really there.

His fingers bumped along a small, jagged scar that ran diagonally up the inside of her thigh. Feeling by touch, he realized it was almost two inches long. He wondered what had happened.

Without thought, he leaned over and placed his lips to the spot. It was a bad idea. She gasped, her body quivering beneath his mouth. Her skin was warm against his lips, soft and inviting. The strings from the hem of her cutoffs tickled his face, reminding him just how close his mouth was to what was hidden beneath.

Her feet scissored and tension tightened her muscles. It was his first clue that she was awake.

Turning his head, he kept his mouth close to the temptation of her body and looked up into her face. She stared down at him, her eyes now bright and vivid, definitely awake.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.

“Kissing it and making it better?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.

She moved again beneath him, not in an attempt to push him away, but in a restless motion that he understood. The same need crawled through his body, making his skin feel tight.

“That healed a long time ago.”

“What happened?” The heat of her body seeped into his open lips, making them ache to touch her again.

“I dropped a knife. It cut me on the way down.”

Had she done that here? A vision of her first clumsy attempts at cooking made his chest tighten. “When?”

“I was twelve.”

He hated the idea of her in pain. His fingers brushed softly over the puckered skin. But at least she hadn’t injured herself on his watch without him even knowing about it.

Rising on her elbows, Marcy twisted and pulled herself out from under him. He let her go, knowing it wouldn’t be for long. Not if he had his way and he could convince her to give in to what her body obviously wanted. From where he’d been, he could smell the heady scent of her arousal.

“What are you doing here, Simon?”

“Looking for you.”

“Why?”

He decided not to answer her question. He didn’t want to. He wasn’t entirely sure what the answer was anyway. From the window in his office he’d watched her walk into the jungle this morning. He knew where she was going. And for the rest of the morning, while he should have been concentrating, he’d been thinking about her.

Fantasies shared space with concern, knowing she was out in the jungle alone. There were snakes and jaguars and high cliffs. And while Marcy was one of the most capable people he’d ever met, she wasn’t invincible.

Finally, after finishing a chapter, printing it out and adding it to the pile of work he’d already done, he gave in to the urge to follow her. The day was nice and warm. He wasn’t accomplishing much anyway. Maybe if he burned up some of this need and energy he’d be able to concentrate again.

But he wasn’t about to tell her that.

“You said my name.”

“What?” she asked, confusion clouding her eyes.

“In your sleep. You said my name.”

Her eyes widened with shock for just a moment before she hid her reaction. “I did not.”

“You did. I promise.”

She scoffed. “Please, a promise from you isn’t worth the breath it’s uttered with.”

“That hurts.”

She shrugged. “The truth usually does.”

“I think I liked you better when you were asleep.”

He expected her to make some snappy comeback. It was what they did—verbally spar. He was beginning to think all that aggression had just been an outlet for the sexual frustration that ran between them like a live wire.

Instead, she looked at him and said, “Liar. Right now you’re trying to figure out the fastest way into my pants.”

He rocked back on his heels. She’d surprised him. The wheels in his brain spun as he tried to figure out the best response to her candor. He wasn’t sure there was one, so he decided to match her honesty.

“You wanna save me the trouble and just tell me?”

She laughed. Sunshine washed across her face and her eyes sparkled. He wasn’t sure if it was from the direct light or from something more…something internal. He hoped it was more.