Seduction on the Cards Page 7

  And how much of a danger could a single non-date in broad daylight on a very public harbor be?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sailing? Kerri’s experience of sailing was restricted to childhood fun in canoes on the lake in the park. What would she need for real sailing? A bikini and suntan lotion Alex had said.

  Maybe a book, and a deck of cards in case she needed to pass some time with a few hands of Solitaire while he was doing things with the sails. Sunglasses. Headache pills, because Sarah had pointed out the glare off the water might be bad...a beach-towel...a sweatshirt.

  And shoes with sensible soles.

  Her mind raced, and she had a terrible night in bed—wide awake at 2.17, tossing the cover off at 3.10, pulling it back on at 3.25, desperately thirsty at 4.01, haunted by vivid memories of Alex’s hot mouth and dark blue eyes and long caressing fingers. She’d felt his lips on her breasts, and imagined tracing her tongue over his naked chest, past his abs, and down to explore further. When had she ever wanted to do that? But now her brain buzzed with sensation and her body trembled with longing.

  She’d never seen sex as a big deal. Never considered herself a very sexy person. She knew the mechanics of the act. Had test-driven a couple of men, and truly not seen what the fuss was about.

  Okay, after a couple of drinks and a few kisses it was pleasant enough, but no earth had moved, no fireworks had shot skywards, and no craving for more of the same had overwhelmed her.

  But with Alexandre... Yes, for some reason it was different. She stayed constantly on edge in his company, always aware of his eyes and his hands and his mouth. God—that mouth! His lips were magic, whether they were brushing lightly over hers, or wandering much further afield. Kerri lay in a drowsy dose, remembering back to yesterday lunchtime. Thinking how lovely it was being the total focus of someone’s attention.

  Suddenly the eight a.m. news theme blared out from the clock/radio and dragged her out of her fantasies.

  Damn, he had no right to stop her from sleeping. No right to set her aching and tingling like this. He was only taking her sailing, after all.

  Sarah pushed the door open a few minutes later.

  “Sleep well?” She set a mug of coffee on the chest of drawers beside the bed and scooted her bottom back against Kerri’s knees. Grumbling, Kerri moved aside so Sarah could perch there comfortably.

  “No, a horrible night,” she muttered. Her flat-mate looked far too wide-awake to be any sort of friend. Wide-awake and beautiful—with long blonde hair spilling down over the shoulders of her pink toweling robe, and a lively twinkle in her eyes.

  “Want me to help wax your legs?” Sarah asked.

  “They’re okay.”

  “I bet they’re sprouting. You can’t let him see that.” She pulled the bottom of the cover aside, despite objections, and inspected Kerri’s ankles.

  “Damn good,” she conceded.

  “I did them last night.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows. “You’re taking him seriously then?”

  “For only one day? Dream on.” Kerri reached out for her coffee and added hesitantly, “do you want to come with us?”

  “No way! You’re hopeless—of course I don’t want to come with you and play gooseberry.”

  “He wouldn’t mind. And it might...make things easier.”

  “Forget it. What are you scared of?”

  “Nothing. Well—being bored, maybe.”

  “He didn’t look boring to me.”

  “Okay—being lectured.”

  “Surprise, surprise.”

  “He doesn’t like me,” Kerri groaned, breaking eye contact and staring down into her coffee. “He doesn’t approve of me. He thinks I don’t take life seriously enough.”

  “And you’re amazed by this, Kerri-babes?”

  “He’s so organized and ambitious. We’ve got nothing in common. I should have said no.”

  “Why didn’t you, then?”

  “Because he’s the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever met,” she wailed. “And I only get him for one day.”

  Sarah dissolved into giggles. “Make the most of him then,” she said, digging into the pocket of her robe and producing two anchor-shaped earrings. “Look what I found in Granny’s bead collection. Are they too much?”

  “Probably,” Kerri grumped, reaching out for them and finally breaking into a reluctant smile.

  An hour and a half later, she dropped her gym-bag beside the front door and looked down at her ultra-high cork wedges. There was a layer of non-slip rubber under the cork. Surely they’d be fine?

  She flopped down on the sofa with an exasperated sigh and considered the day ahead. What was she expecting? More importantly, what was she hoping for? It was Alex’s final day in New Zealand, so there was no point in looking forward to anything at all. But somehow he was too lovely not to see one last time.

  The moment she’d set eyes on him, even though she’d been coughing and desperately embarrassed, she’d still felt the pull of him. However much she’d objected, his hand on her nape to push her down for the hiccups cure had been exhilarating. What followed in his office had been beguiling on Monday and explosive on Friday.

  Why had he done it? And why hadn’t she struggled away instead of grabbing him in return? She’d been like iron filings to a magnet—attracted, drawn helplessly to him, clamped tight into embraces that had no barriers or boundaries.

  As for his wandering hands... Just thinking about his fingers on her flesh made her damp and distracted in seconds.

  She’d been unprepared for passion. Past boyfriends had not ignited anything like the fierce reaction Alex summoned.

  As she’d nestled in his arms, still pulsing with sharp sweet pleasure, her claim of ‘mine don’t seem to happen’ had been honest. Neither of her lovers had ever made her come.

  So what would today bring? Newly-awakened Kerri had already admitted to herself she wanted more of him. More of his deep kisses and breathtaking caresses. They had only this last day, and if Alex was in the mood to play she’d revel in his company, enjoy him to the full, and release him with regret.

  She’d convinced herself she could handle regret if she had the memory of such pleasure as consolation.

  But bossy Alex Beaufort was to know nothing of that, she thought, as his tall silhouette appeared in the frosted glass panel of the door.

  “Will I do?” she asked, swinging the door open.

  Alex grinned as his gaze traveled from her bouncy scarlet-streaked dark hair to her impertinent eyes and inviting raspberry-glossed lips.

  She’d chosen to wear the anchor-shaped earrings, a sleeveless red top with a decent neckline, and tiny white shorts. She’d started to have doubts about the high sandals, but she had no flat ones. Her toenails were bright metallic mauve.

  “Excellent,” he said.

  Kerri sighed at that. “So I probably guessed wrong?”

  “No—shorts and a sun-top are just right. But can you really walk in those?”

  “I can walk in anything,” she declared as he reached down for her bag. “Bye, Sarah,” she yelled over her shoulder. She pulled the door shut and staggered down the steps after him.

  She dimly registered a bee zooming into the sweet-smelling jasmine on the bank, and a couple of starlings flying down and landing on some tall stems of flax-flowers bobbing in the wind. By the time she reached the last steps their glossy dark heads were comically dusted with bright orange pollen.

  But she had better things to do than notice the birds and the bees. Her eyes had fastened on Alex’s denim-clad butt as he jogged down ahead of her. Who’d have thought—uptight Alexandre Beaufort in very snug jeans! From the back he looked like a lanky schoolboy; tall, tousled, and casual. The sun highlighted his crisp black hair and glanced off broad shoulders covered by an innocent white T-shirt.

  As she drew level with him, Kerri saw it also glistened off every tiny dark bristle on his dangerously sexy unshaven face. He was many years out of the classroom, and waves
of testosterone washed off him and curled around her, insistent as cobwebs. She closed her eyes for a second to block him out, but that simply made her more attuned to the faint scent of his skin in the summer breeze. She tried to summon up a bit of French resistance as they walked toward a black SUV.

  “No bike today?”

  He grinned down at her, apparently relaxed. “The bike’s great for touring, but not for business. No room for our picnic, either.” He waved a hand at a big white chilly-bin in the back, and stowed her bag beside it.

  “I bet parking this will be more difficult though.”

  “Still making bets, cherie?”

  “Just stating the obvious.”

  “Five bucks says I get straight into a park.”

  “Alex—you’re gambling! Five bucks?” Kerri hesitated, thinking about her decimated bank account and her latest debt to Sarah. But a parking space anywhere near the marina on a fine Sunday morning would surely be impossible to find by now?

  “Done.”

  Alex flashed her an even wider grin. A wicked grin, full of teeth and secrets.

  I bet I’ve just done something stupid again.

  He swung the door open for her and she climbed inside, acutely conscious that her shorts now seemed very short and that his eyes were all over her legs. But a few seconds later her eyes were all over him in return as he rounded the front of the SUV. The sun carved his snowy T-shirt into a piece of spectacular white marble sculpture, and Kerri caught her breath as the hard light glanced off his long lean muscles. She could barely concentrate when he began to speak to her again.

  “Is your writing about Gaston going well?” he asked before punching the engine into life.

  She tried to drag her scattered thoughts back into order. “So-so. You were easier than him.”

  “And why would that be?” he asked as he glanced in the rear-view mirror before easing out onto the road.

  She shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I felt I knew you better than him? Maybe you told me more?”

  “As I recall Gaston barely stopped bombarding you with chat the whole evening.”

  “He’s a hell of a talker,” she agreed. “It’s nice of him to loan you his yacht.”

  “Sylvie is not a yacht, she’s a cruiser.”

  Kerri’s lightning-quick brain made the necessary connection.

  Sylvie’s not a woman, she thought with satisfaction, remembering her reaction when Gaston had suggested that Alex ‘take Sylvie out’.

  “So,” he continued, “as she’s not a yacht I won’t be expecting you to tug on ropes or risk your life hanging over the side as a counterweight.”

  “I wouldn’t have done that anyway.”

  “No—you’re too small to be useful for such things.”

  She was sure he had his tongue tucked into his cheek and was waiting for her to react.

  “On Monday night you seemed to think some bits of me were just the right size,” she shot back.

  He cleared his throat, and made a great show of checking for traffic at the intersection.

  Kerri tried not to smile. Points to her!

  But when they reached the marina she found she was five dollars poorer. Alexandre nosed up to a space reserved with two tall fluorescent orange cones, jumped out, moved them backward, and drove the SUV neatly in.

  “You cheated!”

  Again that devastating grin.

  “Not at all. I knew the odds, and you were betting blind, cherie.”

  “You couldn’t lose...”

  “Indeed, I could not. Gaston sometimes loans Sylvie to a friend who owns this restaurant. And the use of a parking space is the trade-off.”

  “Unfair bastard,” she murmured.

  “So that’s five dollars you owe me, Kerri. Or would you rather work for it?”

  “Work for it how?” she asked with uneasy suspicion.

  “By relaxing and being nice company today. I regret this will be hard work for you. But put your mind to it and you might manage to tame the spitting tiger who lives inside you. Stretch out in the sun and become a docile little pussycat with me—yes?”

  He reached across and stroked a finger down her thigh.

  Kerri pounced on his hand and dug her nails in. He ignored her and continued the electrifying caress with his whole hand.

  Dammit, you’re willing to purr for him after a single touch. Find some backbone, Kerri!

  “If you’re going to show me such pretty legs you must be prepared to have them admired.”

  “And if I did it to you in return?” she challenged, planting her hand on his knee and sliding slowly up his long denim-covered thigh, “Would that be okay?”

  She felt him tense up. God, the man had legs of iron! She slid higher, hoping to call his bluff, and knowing he might call hers in return. How far would he allow her to go? How far would she dare to? He radiated strength, and life and power. She felt safe with him—and in delicious danger, too.

  Alex survived until her small insistent hand was nearly at his groin. Having no desire to let her know what was happening there, he grabbed her and growled “enough.”

  “Chicken,” she said, finding his eyes and challenging him to disagree. “You don’t like it when I turn the tables, huh? It’s okay for you to get into my pants, but not for me to get into yours?”

  “I did not get into your pants.”

  “No—well—you didn’t seem to need to, did you…”

  Alexandre looked down at their joined hands, his so large against hers. In the bright sunlight, glints of gold showed where tiny soft hairs grew on her smooth skin. Much darker hairs sprinkled the area below his own watch-strap; on his muscular forearm they were thicker.

  As though she was reading his mind Kerri slipped her hand free of his and reached up to tweak some between her fingers. “Puss, puss, puss,” she taunted. “You’re the one with the fur coat, not me.”

  “Don’t you like a man who is clearly marked as male?” he demanded.

  She shrugged and let her fingers relax and run to and fro over his arm. She trailed through the soft springy hairs, and he clenched his jaw at the sensation.

  “Not if he has a hairy back to match.”

  “He doesn’t.”

  “So that will save him spending money being waxed.”

  Alex gave a sharp sniff, pulled his arm away from her tantalizing caresses, and threw open his door. Waxed! All very well for an American, perhaps, but not for a red-blooded Frenchman.

  The salt-laden air floated into the SUV, and wheeling gulls shrieked as they rode the currents of air above the marina.

  Is Kerri waxed? And where?

  He hefted their picnic lunch and her sports-bag onto the paved parking area, watching surreptitiously as she slid down off the high seat. Could those shorts be any shorter? Did she deliberately dress to titillate every man in sight?

  That little red top, for instance. It might have a decorous neckline, but in the fresh breeze her nipples were perkily outlined. Any man could look at her and see what he saw.

  He didn’t like that at all, but had no idea why it disturbed him. She was only someone he was filling in a spare day with, and she annoyed the hell out of him most of the time. Why should he worry if she wanted to show off her glorious breasts? Not his concern, provided he could look as well. And hopefully touch.

  His mouth quirked as Kerri set off for Sylvie. The uneven surface of the marina didn’t mix well with her silly high sandals. She stumbled a little, regained her balance, and caught his eye.

  “I’ll be fine on the boat.”

  Alex doubted that. “You’d be safer barefoot.”

  “No, there are splinters.”

  He glanced down at the planks. They were old and hard-used. He had to concede she was right. After unlocking the marina gate that gave access to the boat, he slung the straps of Kerri’s gym-bag high up onto his shoulder, transferred the chilly-bin to the same hand, and tucked his other arm around her for support.

  “Hey!” she object
ed.

  He tightened his grip. She had such a tiny waist that his thumb was right against the underside of her breast. Her warm firm smooth breast, his brain reminded him unnecessarily.

  “Would you rather I left you to fall flat on your face, cherie?”

  He stroked upwards with his thumb, moving closer to her nipple. She drew a sharp breath but he wasn’t slapped away so he continued his tiny caresses as they walked the rest of the way to Sylvie’s mooring. The salty ocean smell grew stronger and the water tossed and splashed below them as they ambled along.

  Had she brought a bikini as he’d suggested? Would she change into it for him? She had a hot little body—super-feminine—all curves and hollows. Already the blood flooded his groin as he pictured her spread out in the sun. She might annoy the hell out of him but she certainly turned him on.

  He released her with regret so he could step aboard and stow her bag and Gaston’s big chilly-bin side-by-side on the deck. The water surged around the piles of the marina, and the big boat rose and dipped. Kerri’s apprehensive expression as she peered down was just the excuse he needed to reach out and re-gather her into his arms so he could swing her over the gap where the dark green ocean swished and splashed.

  “Put me down!”

  “Just keeping you safe.” He lowered her onto the deck and stood with an arm around her until she was steady.

  “Well you didn’t have to do that.”

  “Perhaps it was for my own pleasure too?”

  She tossed her hair back out of her eyes and sent him a suspicious glare. The fresh breeze had her nipples really perky now—was she even wearing a bra?

  Alex somehow tore his eyes away and ushered her inside.

  “You want the tour first?”

  Kerri shrugged.

  It took only a few seconds to retrieve her bag and the chilly-bin, but by then she was nowhere in sight. He ducked his head and stepped down the few stairs into the master cabin. Kerri peered about in the gloom.

  “There’s not much room. And why aren’t there any portholes?”

  “Have you been on many boats, cherie? Things are necessarily compact, but there’s everything anyone will need. Try opening some of those doors.”