Charmed By You ((Destiny Bay Romances-The Islanders 5)) (7 page)

She regretted having phrased it just that way, but he
let the reference to her departure pass without comment.

“I deserve some of the credit,” he told her. “After all,
keeping it warm just right has a lot to do with the final
result.
”

“Of course.” She returned his smile. “You always were terrific in the kitchen. Remember your omelets?”

He nodded. “And don’t forget my hamburgers. Not many can achieve just the right combination of black outer crust
and raw center that I managed.”

She
laughed, warmed by the wine and a flood of
memories. “Then there was the time you tried to surprise me with flapjacks and we spent the rest of the day scrub
bing down the ceiling.
”

“Hey, listen, woman. Let’s not forget the time you
decided to save all the chicken bones for soup and boiled them down until they formed burnt
splinter stew.”

She nodded, biting her
lip. “I never did get the smell
out of the kitchen curtains.” She cocked her head. “But that was in our first apartment. Didn’t we ever cook like that in the house?”

“No.” His expression lost its animation. “Creativity
is hard to come by in a kitchen that looks like an operating
room.”

Gleaming stainless steel and hard edges: She’d been
so proud of that kitchen. She thought he would appreciate
its sterile quality. Apparently not.

She glanced at the kitchen he had now. “Are you
creative here?” she asked softly, noting the old-fashioned
gas stove and wooden cutting board.

She met his gaze across the flickering candlelight. In the moment before he answered, she couldn’t look away.

Only his dark eyes and the soft notes of the guitar filled the void around them. “It’s more fun when there’s some
one to be creative for,” he said softly, and she pulled
her gaze from his, searching the room for something else
to look at.

“How do you like my place?” he asked suddenly, his
tone normal again.

She looked around, this time really seeing the rooms,
and wasn’t sure how to respond. “It’s very ‘island,’ isn’t
it?” she tried tentatively, but his laugh was harsh.

“Godforsaken?” he suggested mockingly.

“Not at all.” She frowned, trying to express what she really felt. “Deliberately casual. Warm. Inviting.” Her
mouth quirked at the edges. “Seductive.”

He leaned back in his chair, observing her from nar
rowed eyes. “Any chance of your joining that mood?”
he asked quietly.

Now what was he planning? “What do you mean?”

He shrugged lazily. “You’re so primly dressed, I feel
as though I were entertaining a formal guest instead of
an old lover.”

“Old lover, huh?” She tried to smile. “Have I aged
that much?”

He sighed, purposefully taking her twist of words at
face value. “I hope so,” he said softly.

Her laugh sounded almost natural to her own ears. “This reminds me of the movies I used to watch on the
late show when I was waiting for you to come home
after those twelve-hour shifts,” she said lightly. “The
island pirate kidnaps the naive missionary and carries her
off to his hideout.” She grinned. “Apropos, isn’t it?”

“Very,” he agreed, smiling back. He picked up his
wineglass and gazed down into the liquid depths. “And
what does he do with his prize once he has her secure?” he asked.

“Not much. Those movies were made in the fifties, you know.”

He nodded. “How lucky we’ve passed into more mod
ern times.”

Heather ran a quick tongue over suddenly dry lips. “Isn’t it?” She glanced at the door. “This has been a
wonderful dinner, Mitch. Would you like me to help you
with the dishes before I go back to the club for the night?”
She might as well indicate her plans right up front so that he wouldn’t indulge in any false expectations.

“No.”

He stood slowly and came toward her. She stared down at her empty plate, trying to steel herself, sure he was about to take her in his arms. She wouldn’t let him do that. Somehow she would maintain the strength to keep him at bay.

But for the moment that was unnecessary. He stopped before he reached her. Looking up, she found him taking
a red flower from the center arrangement and stripping it of most of its stem. “I think the missionary could use a touch of island magic,” he said softly. “If she can’t
wear a sarong, at least she can have a flower in her hair.”

She held her breath while he tucked the blossom into
the sweep of her golden curls just behind her ear. His
fingers, ever deft, didn’t really touch her, but still created
an exotic tingle where they played with her hair. Her
own hands curled around the arms of the chair, clutching
as though to hold herself back from disaster.

“I like your hair longer,” he said, answering the ques
tion she’d asked earlier that afternoon.

“Even a missionary has some vanities,” she told him breathlessly, staring at his sculptured brass belt buckle.
She let her gaze travel slowly up along the line of buttons
on his shirt to the cleft that opened to reveal his dark muscled chest, then up across his satin-smooth lips and arrogantly arched nose to meet his illusively shadowed eyes.

His hand was still in her hair. Now it combed through the thickness, his fingers tracing softly across her scalp.
“Missionary lady,” he whispered seductively, “you have a lot more than hair to be vain about.”

She should leave now. But how could she get away
from him? She couldn’t stand up without pressing herself
against his long body, and if she stayed here...

“One thing we missionaries are most proud of,” she said, warning him, “is our honor. Even the wickedest pirate respects it.” Her smile wavered. “You wouldn’t want to put that to shame, now would you?”

His grin was a slash of corsair triumph as his hand slipped around to possess her smooth cheek. “Who says I wouldn’t?” he returned. “Just try me.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but as quick as a privateer boarding a captured vessel, he turned her face up to meet the mastery of his kiss.

She pulled back, trying to break away, but he held her head prisoner while his mouth plundered hers. She gasped at the hunger he displayed, the raw need she felt
in him. Mitch had always been passionate, but never rough.
An icy tremor of fear flashed through her as she felt the determination of his embrace. He had no intention of letting her go, not until he had what he wanted. She reached out, grasping at thin air, her hands curling into fists that fell back, helpless in her lap.

But even as her mind acknowledged the truth of his
purpose, her flesh was responding to the fire in him with
its own fragile flame. His mouth on hers was so sweet it drugged her senses. His hands caressed the sides of her head with tender command. No man could set her pulse racing as he could. She found herself kissing him back with an intensity she hadn’t known for a very long
time.

“Pirates who abduct missionary ladies also ravish them,” he growled against her kiss-swollen lips. “Just
because they don’t tell you that part in the movies doesn’t
mean it doesn’t happen.”

“Don’t ravish me, Mitch.” She was grateful there was no sound of pleading in her voice. “We both know you could if you wanted to. But I’ll hate you.”

He chuckled as he pulled her up to face him, holding
her loosely against his hard body. “I’m not going to ravish
you, Heather, but I’m sure as hell going to seduce you.”

“Mitch...”

His fingers tightened their hold on her. “Don’t you
know how much I need you?” he rasped out. “Can’t you
feel it? I want you to stay, Heather. I need you more than I ever have before.” His kiss was a blaze of fire on her neck.

“Oh, Mitch!” She clung to him, knowing all hope of
escape was slipping away, fading under his determination
like fog before the summer sun.

His arms wound around her in a strong embrace, and she found herself pulling at the tails of his shirt, drawing
them out of his pants so that her hands could slip underneath, reaching for the warmth she remembered so well.

His body was just the same. If anything, his flesh was
harder, smoother, as hot to her touch as molten metal. Her fingers crept up across his ribs, stretching against
his taut skin, until they found the tangled hair that covered
his chest. She gasped as she spread her fingers through it, feeling the jolting beat of his heart beneath her hand.

His heart in her hands. If only that were true. She would keep it so safe, so close. But that could never be, for it eluded her like quicksilver, just as always.

Yet that hardly mattered now. She was beyond caring
about tomorrow. There was only the heat and joy of now.

His sure hands were swiftly opening the buttons of her high mandarin collar, one at a time, and she let her head fall back as his lips followed his fingers, traveling
down the satin pathway until he found the swelling slope
of her breasts.

“If I’d known missionary ladies were this sexy,” he teased against her tender skin, “I’d have spent more time at the mission.”

She laughed low in her throat, a rich sensual sound that communicated the totality of her surrender. “If I’d known what it was like to have a pirate for a lover,” she
answered, “I’d have stowed away on your ship long ago.”

His laughter echoed hers, and he swung her up into his arms. “Then stow away now, my darling,” he whispered. “Come away with me.”

He settled her on his wide bed, looking down at the picture she made with her golden hair spread out across his vermilion quilt. His eyes were burning in the dim
light, and she shivered with delight under their fire, want
ing to see him respond to her nakedness. Not waiting for him to finish unbuttoning her blouse, she pulled it
open herself, then moaned as his hands cupped her breasts,
sliding down to tug at the peaks.

“Will you let me love you, Heather?” he asked unnecessarily as she writhed beneath his touch. “Will you love me just like you used to?”

She would walk to hell and back on smoldering coals
for him. Didn’t he know that? Her desire-blurred vision took him in, so large and dark, leaning over her. She still loved him. But then, she’d always known that. And now she wanted him. At least he would give her his body.

“Love me, Mitch,” she told him huskily. “Hurry.”

He dropped a slow kiss on her open mouth, then slid a hand beneath her skirt. “Heather!” Suddenly he was laughing again. “Still in panty hose! No one wears them in the tropics.” He began to curl the offending garment from her, still chuckling. “I think you really are a missionary lady at heart.”

His teasing didn’t sting at all. She could hear the affection in it and she smiled dreamily, enjoying the
sensation of being undressed by him. “I thought pirates made quick raids,” she murmured softly. “I didn’t know
they stopped to chat while they were ravishing.”

“I’ll be quick enough for you, my missionary lady,” he growled, tossing her skirt to the floor and ridding himself of his own clothes in record time. “I promised
you a special raiding trip, and that’s what you shall have.”
He matched her naked body with his own, stretching against her in languorous splendor. “We’ll fly the skull and crossbones from our main mast to warn away all intruders.”

“Oh, Mitch.” She laughed softly, winding her body around his. “Stop talking about it. I want to see a little plundering.” She kissed him and breathed against his lips, “Starting now.”

He took possession of the moment, coaxing her with
his skill, leading her with his passion, and she followed,
trembling with anticipation, moaning with desire, until she wanted to cry out her joy.

The wild sweetness of his lovemaking was breath-stoppingly fierce, heart-stoppingly tender. As his hands
stroked her skin, as his lips found every sensitive secret,
as her own body took his and thrust it with hers to the edge of forever, she knew there would never be another man for her like this one. This was what she lived for, the salient ingredient missing from her life. How could
she walk away from it again? What would she not endure
just to have this?

As the urgent rhythm of their loving slowed and they
fell, exhausted, they wound together even tighter, holding each other as though neither dared let go.

“Stay, Heather,” he whispered in her ear. “Stay with me. You can see how much I need you, how much we need each other.”

Why not? A tiny voice was tempting her seductively.
Why not stay for a few weeks and see how it went?
Would there ever be anything in life that could make her
happier than being with this man? Would she ever find greater fulfillment?

She turned in his embrace, running a finger along his
arm to smooth the wiry hair. Wasn’t it worth the risk?
Whatever else, she would have him again. And that was
all she really wanted, wasn’t it?

A noise came from the clinic, just beyond the wall. Mitch froze against her, his head up and alert.

“Mitch?” It was a woman’s voice.

The green door that led from the clinic burst open, and a small dark woman stepped into the room.

“Mitch, are you here?”

Holding Heather against his chest, he swore under his
breath just as the newcomer found him with her searching
gaze. “Oh, there you are. I just.. .Oh!”