Revenge of the Second Son

“You’re keeping a barrier between us. I want to scale that wall you’ve surrounded yourself with. I want to get to know you.”

“Nick,” she cautioned. “We have to step back and get a lid on the sex and emotion.”

“Let go a little and let’s see where they take us,” he coaxed. He reached out to let his fingers slowly trace her jawline. “Let’s start with a swim.”

She was tempted to tell him to turn the yacht around and head back. She didn’t want a weekend with him coming on to her and turning her into breathless mush, a melting, responsive female who boosted his ego and gave him the upper hand in their dealings. She knew enough about him to know there was a steady stream of women in his life. She didn’t want to fall into his arms and his bed, and then be tossed aside like an old shoe. Only an old shoe didn’t feel anything. She had always avoided heartbreak, and she could imagine the casualties in Nick’s background.

He lowered the ladder over the side and stepped back. “You can go into the water this way,” he said, motioning with a wave of his hand.

“Do you climb down that?”

“I dive.”

“Then I will, too,” she said. He laughed, touching her cheek lightly with his forefinger.

“Ever competitive. Let’s go.” He stepped to the side, going over in a smooth dive, his muscles flexing. Her mouth went dry as she looked at his long, powerful body in prime physical condition.

Trying to stop her flood of thoughts about him, she followed him, feeling refreshingly cool water closing over her. She came up to find him swimming away from her, parallel to the beach, and she followed, catching up with him and swimming beside him. What compelled her to compete with him on every level? She wanted to best him in every way, wring what she wanted out of him, make him as breathless when they flirted as he made her. She suspected on the last, she did. Only she knew his flirting might have a deeper effect on her. She was certain that she couldn’t be as casual about sex as he could be.

He turned to swim back to her. “Want to snorkel or just swim?”

“Snorkel,” she replied.

Nick splashed out of the water, clambering back on board to return in minutes with breathing equipment for both of them.

As she swam under the surface, she looked with wonder at the world of water she had entered. Brightly colored fish, in deep blues and bright yellows swam gracefully near. She clutched Nick’s arm to look at one with brilliant orange-and-black stripes. Then she forgot the water and the dazzling array of fish as her hand closed on his arm. He was sleek and warm and muscular. She released him immediately, but he caught her arm and pulled her close again.

While her heart raced, she looked into his eyes. They couldn’t talk and even submerged in cool water, she was hot, burning with desire that was a constant torment.

She pushed away from him and went to the surface. Nick splashed up beside her. Breathless, she stared at him. “It’s beautiful down there,” she gasped.

“It’s beautiful up here,” he said solemnly.

She placed her finger over his lips, conscious of a current that tingled through her hand. She went under again, gliding away from him. They swam close together, looking at tropical, salt-water fish that were a myriad of bright colors.

When they put away their snorkeling equipment, Nick swam away from her, heading out toward the open water where waves were choppier. She wondered how well he knew the water they were in. Even though he hadn’t said anything, she felt as if he were daring her to follow him.

Wisdom told her to stay in the cove where they had been swimming and where the water was more calm, but her competiveness made her want to keep up with him.

She swam out beside him and treaded water, thankful there wasn’t a stronger chop and wondering how deep the water was. The yacht and shoreline appeared to be a long way back.

“You’re a damn good swimmer,” he said, moving beside her. “And either not scared of this or determined to keep up with me.”

“I figured you hoped to drown me,” she said, and he laughed while they bobbed in the water.

“Not at all. You’re far too interesting alive. Let’s race back.”

“You know you’ll win. You want to win every time, don’t you?”

“No more than you do. I’ll give you a head start.”

She was getting tired of treading water and the open water was choppier than it had looked when they were on the boat. She turned to swim back slowly, watching him slice through the water spreading the distance between them. She wondered why he swam out so far, but then decided he liked challenges. Did he view her as a challenge? she wondered. Probably not.

She swam to him as he waited.

“Have you worked up an appetite for dinner yet?” he asked.

She was standing flat-footed in water that came to her shoulders, and he stood only a few feet away. Water droplets sparkled on his bare shoulders and his curly brown hair was plastered to his head, making him appear sleek and dangerous. Drops of water sparkled on his thick eyelashes and were sprinkled over his skin.

“Now that you mention it, yes. By the time we dress and cook dinner, definitely,” she answered, wondering if she was going to have this heart-pounding reaction to him the entire weekend—or longer.

“Let’s head for my boat,” he said, turning to swim away. When they climbed back on board, he said he would get dinner.

In minutes, their suits were dry, and she pulled on her low-cut, hip-hugging cutoffs and a T-shirt, turning to find him watching her.

“I was hoping you’d eat like you were,” he said.

“No way. You can.”

“That’s definitely not the same.” He vanished inside and returned shortly in a T-shirt and cutoffs and his deck shoes. As the orange sun slanted low in the west sending a golden streak of fire across the surface of the blue water, Nick put steaks on to grill and served her a glass of red wine.

Tempting smells made her mouth water and the quiet was relaxing, wrapping around them. On the deck overlooking the water, four chairs with tables between two of them were in a small circle. She sat on a chair and he sat facing her and raised his glass. “Here’s to mutual satisfaction in our endeavor.”

“I’ll drink to that,” she said, raising her drink in a toast and taking only a small sip.

“Tell me about your life, Julia,” he said, studying her with that dark-eyed intensity that gave her goose bumps. He set his glass on a table. “What do you want in the future?”

“That’s an easy question. I want to marry and have a family, although I’m only twenty-eight, so I’m not in a rush.”

“I’m thirty-two, and not only in no rush, my freedom is essential,” he replied firmly. “No marriage for me.”

“That sounds final and bitter,” she said, wondering why he was so sour on marriage. “I know you like women.”

“I just want my freedom. I come from a family of nonmarrying people except for my brother, who has had one disastrous union and is married again. My parent’s marriage was even more of a calamity than my brother’s. I say no thanks to the ball and chain.”

“You view someone you love as a ‘ball and chain,’” she repeated with amusement. “You may have a lonely life,” she predicted, yet she knew the handsome man she faced would never be lonely. “I want a family because I have almost none. My only living relatives are my granddad and my granddad’s sister. I want a big family. You have a brother and sister—aren’t you close to them?”

He shrugged one muscled shoulder. “I suppose, but we go for periods of time without seeing each other. We keep in touch.”

“I’m sorry about the brother you lost—the one that died in the mountain climbing accident.”

“Yeah. We all miss Jeff. Well, good luck with getting married and having kids. With your looks, there’ll be no problem about marrying.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“You’re beautiful, but your brain may scare off some guys.”

“Not the right one,” she answered with amusement. “He’ll be smarter than I am, I imagine.”