Falling for the Guy Next Door (10 page)

So, he hadn’t
crossed two oceans just for her. Megan smiled. She hadn’t really
believed he had and she didn’t mind.
He loves the old man.
She didn’t know why Jack didn’t spend more time here himself. Maybe
growing up in boarding schools had left him too restless, maybe he
didn’t know how to make any house his home.

Jack was a
wanderer with bad-boy attitude and the rugged good looks to
match.

But he was
more. He had a gentle heart beneath that hard shell and he was
sufficiently comfortable—or confident—in his life-worn soul to bare
himself, to express vulnerability in a manner that didn’t invite
pity.

She hadn’t
even registered exactly when, but at some point, he’d also
completely wiped out the residue of her embarrassment. Her mother
was in for the biggest hug ever when she saw her next.

The
complexities didn’t end there. He clearly resented his parents for
leaving him in his uncle’s care. Whatever he said, Mr. Marlin must
have been a difficult old bugger to put up with, even for short
holidays at a time. Is that why Jack felt the urge to run and run
and never stop?

Jack’s eyes
creased into his grin just before he pulled his gaze from her to
outside. “So, when last did you get drenched on purpose?”

“Seriously?”
She squinted through the windshield, tried to remember she was an
adult, but the thought of feeling the rain on her skin, the sand
between toes, took over. She kicked off her shoes, peering sideways
at him as she bent forward to roll up her jeans. “You’re out of
luck if you were joking.”

“I never joke
when it comes to getting a girl to remove items of clothing,” he
drawled.

“You are such
a flirt,” she snorted, then ruined her indignation with a laugh
that started in her belly.

“I’m such an
idiot.” The grin turned downright wicked as he pulled off his
jacket. “Why didn’t I suggest swimming instead?”

He was out the
car first, backing away onto the caramel sand, his arms thrown wide
and his hands beckoning her to come out and play. Within seconds,
the rain had plastered his hair to his scalp, to his cheekbones.
His soaked T-Shirt clung to his body, defining rippled muscles at
his chest and a lean abdomen.

Megan felt the
effect all the way down to her bare toes. Her pulse ticked a little
faster, heat pooled low in her stomach and a shot of fun, crazy
energy bubbled warmth in the vicinity of her heart. She wasn’t just
half gone on steaming hot desire for the guy next door. She really,
really liked him.

M
egan had been up since the crack of dawn, roused by
the light streaming in past curtains she hadn’t drawn properly the
night before. She’d slunk lower beneath the covers, determined to
snooze until a decent hour, when the solution to her heroine’s
dilemma had popped into her head. The delicious anticipation of
ruffling the Earl of Canwick’s feathers had charmed her out of
bed.

“
I’m duty-bound to provide you with an heir and a spare before
I seek pleasure outside our marriage.” Elizabeth met the storm
roiling in his eyes with a resolved tilt of her chin. She refused
to flinch as she delivered the finale. “You’re an honourable, fair
man, James. Surely you don’t mean for me to wither into old age
without ever having known the comfort of a lover?”

She swore she
heard bone crack as his jaw clenched.

“
Am I to understand, madam,” he pushed out through gritted
teeth, “that you have the audacity to confront me in my own
library—in our house—with your intentions to seek out a
lover?”

A vein ticked
at his temple. Her husband was on the edge of an apoplexy.
Elizabeth suppressed a smile and, despite the uneven tattoo of her
daring heart, gave a careless shrug. “Honestly, James, I didn’t
think you’d mind.”

His mouth
opened. And snapped shut again. The scowl riding his brow darkened
his entire face. His gaze went from her to the vast expanse of lawn
outside the library window. The silence stretched, and her pulse
beat a little more erratically with each passing second. What if
this didn’t work? Good Lord, what if he actually sent her out to
procure a lover so he could continue to remain faithful to a woman
dead and buried a decade ago?

“
I do not mind,” he said at last, stamping each word with cold
detachment, “other than in the obvious context.” That iciness
settled into his eyes, turning ocean blue to polar arctic. “I will
not tolerate a bastard heir.”

Got you! Megan
leaned back in her chair, grinning at the document opened on her
screen. This was why she loved her job so much.

Her eyes went
from the screen to the wall and her thoughts went to the man behind
it. She rolled her eyes on a sigh. The rules of getting a man into
bed were so much simpler in the eighteen hundreds.

At least she
was reaping one reward from her recent spate of outbursts that had
ended in that debacle of utter humiliation last night. Her spiking
hormones seemed to have settled somewhere between resignation and a
drop of optimistic hope. Jack hadn’t rushed over to prove himself
right. He’d come to stop her.

Huh! Maybe
this century wasn’t all that different from Elizabeth’s.

Still, this
was Jack and he didn’t need an heir. God, he’d run a mile at the
suggestion of pregnancy.

But she was
done with tormenting herself. Since he’d returned, she’d been
walking around like one big exposed nerve-ending and it was both
painful and exhausting.

All tingling,
overheating and melting was officially on hold until Jack decided
what he wanted. And if it never happened, well, maybe that was
okay. Anything with Jack was strictly temporary. She was driving
herself nuts over something that would be over almost as soon as it
started. She’d never be immune to Jack, but she didn’t need to fall
apart around each corner either.

She returned
her attention to a world where happy-ever-afters were guaranteed
until the chimes of her doorbell sounded. She stuck her head out of
the window. “Hello...?”

Jack stepped
back from the narrow balcony overhanging the porch and looked up at
her. “Hey there. Are you working?”

“I could do
with a break,” she called down. “Do you want to come in?”

He shook his
head. “I’m on my way into town. I thought we could go to the beach
later? If the weather holds.”

“Yeah, sure,”
she said after the slightest pause.

“Great. I’ll
grab a bottle of wine while I’m in town.”

“I’ll bring
the glasses.”

“I’ll come
knocking at three, then.” He flashed a smile up at her before
turning to go.

Megan watched
him walk to the car, her gaze inadvertently sliding over the denim
worn into the shape of his firm backside and lean, muscled thighs.
Sea, sand, sun, and Jack. No problem whatsoever.

The cove was
little more than a patch of golden sand that would disappear
beneath the encroaching waves when the tide peaked in a couple of
hours. Jack had driven about ten miles up the coast, then made her
cross a field of gorse and heather, jump a wooden fence and
practically abseil the twenty-foot drop into the cove using a
weathered rope ladder that was actually just a rope. The effort,
Megan thought as she spread her towel out and watched Jack shrug
off his backpack, was definitely worth it.

The only sound
came from the gentle echo of the ocean and seagulls swooping low
over the bay. Numerous yachts and fishing vessels dotted the flat
waters in the distance, none veering too close to this particular
rocky stretch of Cornish coastline.

And the
view…she sank onto her towel and gave in to the pleasure of
feasting her eyes as Jack stripped his T-Shirt and threw it on top
of the backpack. Swimming trunks tugged low around his hips and
ended inches above his knees. His lean biceps, solid chest, concave
abdomen and long thighs were naturally toned from his active
lifestyle rather than the stockier build that came from pumping
iron indoors.

“Are you
coming in?”

She dragged
her eyes all the way back up that gorgeous physique and shook her
head. “I always need to warm up first.”

His appraising
gaze suggested he could help with that, but then he grinned and
turned from her to jog into the waves. Her insides softened in
languid desire as she admired the muscles rippling over his back.
When the water covered his calves, he waded a little deeper and
dived into a swell. He broke the surface with broad strokes that
took him further and further from the shore.

Realising he’d
be a while, she removed her clothes and stretched out over the
towel, arms folded beneath her head. With the heat of the sun
brushing her bikini-clad body, she closed her eyes. After a few
minutes of inner struggle, she decided there’d be no harm in
letting her imagination take flight.

Jack
striding out of the waves, his sun-kissed torso glistening with
seawater, maybe one toss of his head to shake a dripping fringe
from his forehead
—all in slow motion, of course.
Her own
body tightening in coils of anticipation as he approached, that
dark gaze brushing heat over every inch of her skin. His trunks
clung to muscled thighs and hugged the outline of his thick
erection…
despite the frigid water? She sighed deeply. Oh, yeah,
his blood was hot for her, heating him up faster than the Atlantic
could cool him down.

Her toes
curled as she reversed that thought.
He’d lost his trunks to the
drag of the ocean and rose from the water in all his naked glory.
His intentions lurked darkly in the hollows of his jaw as he strode
up and dropped over her, fitting neatly between her thighs in a
single move that put them breast to chest and thigh to tangled
thigh.

A shadow broke
the warmth of her sun-baked daydream.

Megan’s eyes
flashed open. He stood a foot from her, rubbing the excess moisture
from his hair with a towel. The rest of him glistened with water.
His gaze was on a slow journey up the length of her body, dark and
hungry. Intentions definitely lurked in the hollows of his jaw.
Unfortunately, his trunks had survived the swim. And he wasn’t
dropping between her thighs. But everything else was pretty darn
perfect.

She lifted
onto her elbows. “How’s the water?”

His gaze
finally reached hers. “Refreshing.”

“In other
words,” she interpreted, “freezing.”

She couldn’t
resist sneaking a look lower down and was proved wrong. Apparently
his blood wasn’t quite that hot for her after all.

“You’re not
going to swim at all, are you?” A smile creased the corners of his
eyes. “The sole purpose of that bikini is to torment me.”

She arched a
brow on him. “And perhaps to get some colour into my skin.”

“There’s
nothing wrong with the colour of your skin.” Jack spread out his
towel beside her and rolled onto his side, propping himself up on
one elbow.

Their bodies
were so closely aligned, his trunks pressed cold and wet against
her thigh. His eyes never left hers as his palm flattened on her
abdomen just below her belly button. “Nothing wrong with the feel
of your skin either.”

His hand was
cool on her sun-drenched skin, evoking a small gasp from her. He
bent his head over her and pressed butterfly kisses to the swell of
each breast. Her heat mixed with his chill and tiny reactions
exploded throughout her body.

He’d brought
her to this secluded cove for a seduction, she realised. There’d be
no rude interruptions, no second thoughts and no stopping. Her
blood caught fire, swirling want and need through her veins. Her
body had been in a state of readiness for him for two days, waiting
and wanting. She arched into the imprint of his lips, too weak to
resist the demands of her desire.

Too soon, he
raised his head to give her a warm, sultry look. “There’s nothing
wrong with the taste, either.”

She melted
beneath that look; tried to form a response, perhaps tease him
about sniffing her skin next, but all she could do was stare into
his heated gaze and melt a little more.

“The answer to
your question is none.” His thumb rimmed the indent of her belly
button, sending tingles to her pulse. “I haven’t slept with another
woman since that night.”

The marrow
swooshed from her bones and her elbows collapsed, the back of her
head sliding flat onto the towel.

It was
probably a bad sign, she knew, that that admission had the power to
floor her even faster than his touch. She didn’t care. What was
done was done. If her heart was more invested than she’d allowed
herself to believe, then shoving him aside now wouldn’t change a
thing.

Another night
with Jack, though, another memory to savour when he left…that
didn’t sound so bad.

Then his hand
lifted from her belly, his index finger tracing a path up the
middle of her ribcage, and she stopped thinking altogether. He
hooked the edge of one skimpy triangle and slid the material aside.
His gaze moved down as he cupped her breast, massaging gently.
Exposed to the fresh air, to the sun, to his heated gaze, desire
throbbed to her nipple until it stood erect, swollen and seeking
attention.

“Jack…” She
was pleading for him to take her into his mouth and suck the aching
throb.

“Close your
eyes and enjoy,” he said, misunderstanding. “I’ll hear and see
anyone long before they get near.”

Giving herself
completely up to his ministrations, she did as she was told and
closed her eyes. She bit down on her lip at the sweet agony as he
rolled her sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He
moved to her other breast, massaging, tweaking, and then leaving
both her nipples in an identical state of arousal as his hand moved
away. But not for long. His lips closed over the peak of her
breast, his tongue rasping over one engorged nipple as he sucked
her deep into his mouth.