Her Only Desire (7 page)

Her lips firmed into a straight line. “Would you hold that over me to get what you want?”

“Would that make saying yes easier for you?” Her mouth began to open, but he gave a sharp shake of his head to forestall her argument. “Your brother coming to Maison Plaisir isn’t contingent upon anything. It has nothing to do with whether or not you surrender to me.”

She shook her head, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Surrender. Contingencies. Is everything a campaign, a military maneuver? Learn your target’s weaknesses and strike?”

Her tears tightened his chest. He reached for her hand.

Glaring, she pulled back, and then lowered her legs, preparing to push off into the pool.

He leaned toward her, holding her there with just his gaze. “Are you angry because I’m manipulating you, or because you’re tempted? The truth, Tilly.”

“Am I tempted?” she asked, her voice husky. “Yes, but in the same way I couldn’t resist staring at a cobra.”

“So, I’m a snake.” His chest pinched. He snorted and looked away. “I’ll leave you to your swim.”

* * *

As he pushed off the ledge and into the water, Tilly wished she could have taken back that last bit. She’d seen his grimace, and although she couldn’t be sure it hadn’t been from pure annoyance, she thought she read pain in his expression.

Her mind whirled with everything he’d said. As she’d feared all along, he had ulterior motives for hiring her. He was attracted, that much was obvious, but was the reason because he saw her as a challenge to overcome? Or because he was truly interested…in her…not just the momentary pleasure he might find?

The answer worried her, because he was right—she was tempted. But now that was mitigated by the fact she was mad as hell, knowing just how well he’d planned to get her here. She wasn’t the least flattered by the effort. Deep down, she knew his motivation was revenge. How she was supposed to fit into his game plan, she didn’t know.

The tops of her shoulders tingled. She needed to get out of the intense sun. She’d take a shower, rummage through the kitchen for food, and do her best to avoid him until their departure.

The sight of him in his swim trunks, his sex perfectly outlined in the thin fabric, had been almost too much to bear. Her nipples had hardened instantly. Her mouth had watered. She’d had the urge to lick the droplets on his chest, to run her fingers through his short wet hair.

They’d both been nearly naked, wet, and steamy hot. She’d been tempted to tell him nothing mattered except that he ease the throbbing ache he was building inside her.

Boone Benoit might be an entitled jerk, but apparently she had a type too.

* * *

Tilly rolled to her back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Her stomach rumbled. She wanted to ignore her hunger pangs and avoid any possible contact with Boone while she was still annoyed and anxious, and hadn’t yet decided what to do about it. Knowing she ought to quit rather than risk everything for a paycheck, still, she was tempted by the man and everything that came with him.

She glanced down at the nightgown she’d donned after her bath—a sheer pink negligee. So lovely and delicate she was afraid a hangnail would snag it. It fit perfectly, was nearly transparent. She’d never worn anything this beautiful or sexy.

Her stomach rumbled again, and she sighed. There was no way she’d last until morning.

Although she’d promised herself she intended to keep a low profile until they boarded the helicopter to return to Bayou Vert, she couldn’t resist the urge to primp a bit. For herself, because there were all those beautiful clothes hanging in the closet, and she’d missed the feel of fine fabric against her skin.

At least, that was her story, and she was going to stick to it. And if she happened to meet him in passing, well, Boone had seen her at her worst. Why not let him see her at her best? So she chose a soft silk wrap dress the color of watermelon. Soft pleating beneath her breasts emphasized her hourglass figure. The hook at the side was the only thing holding together the dress. Her hair tumbled past her shoulders in soft curls, and she applied makeup. Her skin looked radiant, slightly flushed from a little too much sun, but glowed with health. Three-inch silver leather sandals were overkill for a refrigerator raid, but she felt like a princess.

Holding her breath, she let herself out of her room and made a beeline for the kitchen, half hoping she wouldn’t meet Boone along the way, but half hoping she would. Peeking inside, her shoulders fell when she found the room empty. All dressed up and no one to notice.

Which was just as well. Her disappointment at his absence was frighteningly strong. She knew she was vulnerable to his overtures because she found him so darned attractive, so powerfully beautiful. Her nerves still felt raw after their conversation in the pool—from everything they’d said as well as his sheer physical perfection. She walked to the fridge, reached for the handle, and pulled, pausing when footsteps padded toward her. She stiffened.

A hand reached beyond her and shut the fridge door.

Her heart pounded like a snare drum. She didn’t know whether it was her natural fight-or-flight response, or simply her natural reaction to him.

Boone stood so close to her that his masculine scent—of male musk and that elusive hint of cinnamon—filled her senses. She turned her shoulders, intending to put space between them, but was unable to resist the pull to be even closer to him. Her breasts brushed against his chest. Clasping her hands behind her, she leaned back against the door.

“Going somewhere?” he murmured, his gaze sweeping downward.

Was the widening of his pupils due to his approval of her appearance? “Dinner, I hope. I’m starved.”

His eyes narrowed. A cool smile eased up the corners of his mouth. “You’re in luck. I have something for us on the patio.” He grasped her hand and tugged her behind him.

She should have declined, just to place their relationship on solid footing. But the past two days had been a whirlwind of changes and spiraling emotions. Her interest was piqued—she couldn’t deny that. If he was a jerk, she’d find out soon enough. The man couldn’t be that good an actor. And then the lust she felt every time she saw him would wither and die.

Why not take a chance? See where this led?

Tilly shook her head. The “why not” was obvious. Her cousin had been murdered and he’d been implicated. Her friends and family would be appalled. But she had good reason to believe he wasn’t to blame. Even though the accusation didn’t appear to have harmed him, she couldn’t walk away and be just one more person who abandoned him.

Way to put a damper on things.
Still, she didn’t drag her feet as he led her out into the courtyard. The space glowed with Christmas lights shining overhead and candles glinting on a patio table. She couldn’t help but sigh at the lovely setting. His people had gone to quite a bit of effort to provide a romantic meal.

She glanced around, assuring herself they were alone. “A table for two?”

“Just us. Disappointed?” he asked, pulling out a chair to seat her.

She didn’t answer his question. She couldn’t. But that was as much of an admission she was happy with the arrangements as she was willing to give him. Covered dishes sat in the middle of the table. The aroma of cooked beef, peppers, and onions made her mouth water.

He poured red wine into glasses for them both, and then lifted the covers to reveal the dishes. “I hope you like fajitas.”

“I do,” she said, feeling a bit pampered.

Small dishes of freshly made guacamole and steamed corn tortillas were uncovered. He placed a tortilla on her plate then ladled meat, green peppers, and onions beside it. He unrolled her silverware and flicked the napkin before setting it in her lap.

A gesture that if it had happened in a restaurant wouldn’t have set her nerve endings afire, but
his
fingers brushed her lap. Not until he’d served himself and taken a seat did she draw a deep breath. “Thanks, this is lovely.”

She fashioned a taco and began to eat, glad to have her mouth filled so she wouldn’t be expected to hold a conversation with the man whose gaze seemed to notice everything. His stare didn’t waver.

She put down her taco and dabbed her mouth and chin. “Am I wearing my food?”

“Are you nervous, Tilly?”

The corners of her mouth tugged downward. “I shouldn’t be. It’s just dinner.”

“A little bit of edginess is warranted.”

Her muscles tensed and she blinked her surprise. “Because we’re alone?”

“Because I’m thankful there’s a table between us.”

Her breath hitched, and she slowly shook her head. “Otherwise…?”

“I’d be tempted to release that jeweled clasp holding together your dress.”

Heat filled her cheeks. She picked up the fajita taco and took a larger bite than she should have, suffering through his chuckles while she chewed and chewed. How dare he laugh when he was the one who’d made such an inappropriate comment? Anger flared, nearly choking her.

Although the food was tasty, her stomach was too knotted for her to enjoy it. She refused a second serving and instead sipped her wine, hoping the mellow liquid would soothe her ravaged nerves.

Boone helped himself to more food, then sat back in his chair, gliding his finger around the edge of his wineglass—still watching her with those sharp, icy-blue eyes.

Silence stretched between them. Not a comfortable one.

Tilly shifted in her chair and took another sip. “Perhaps you should tell me what my duties will be once we return to Bayou Vert. Because the job wasn’t described in the hiring notice, I don’t have any idea of what my day-to-day will be.”

He nodded. “I’ll want you to start working with Colby Jones. You’ve met him.”

“The construction foreman?”

“Yes, he’s been supervising the hiring of workers and overseeing the reconstruction. If you could help him by interfacing with the locals, getting word out a little more effectively, I’d appreciate it.”

She let his little fib about doing all his own hiring slide, but only because she was flattered he’d used the ploy. “Tired of Mae rippin’ down the notices?”

He grimaced. “The existence of a local newspaper would be helpful.”

A mountain breeze lifted her hair, and she smoothed it back. She cleared her throat. “I can help spread word. I assume he’ll still do the actual interviewin’ since I won’t know what questions to ask regardin’ laborers’ skills.”

“Yes.”

She glanced down at the wineglass she fingered. “You said I’d be a secretary.”

“Only when I need office help while I’m at Maison Plaisir.”

A twinge of disappointment dampened her mood. Of course he didn’t need her; he had Beatrice’s
professional
services.

Boone tapped the table with his finger, drawing her gaze again.

“When I travel, I’ll want you with me. You can keep in touch with Jonesy, but I don’t want you tied to the place twenty-four/seven. You’ll be responsible for hiring the hospitality staff to support our guests—clerks, cooking staff, housekeeping—but you’ll also need to hire a manager who will report to you.”

The thought of accompanying him on trips like this one was dizzying. “I’m sure you have people who could
liaise
for you.”

“I do. But I find I’ve become insular.” He steepled his fingers under his chin. “As you’ve seen, most of my staff is made up of former marines and navy buddies. They’re intimidating to the locals. I’d like to make an effort to blend a bit more. The plantation will be my home, so the sooner I start making those relationships, the better. You can help me with that.”

Tilly pursed her lips. “Folks in the Bayou can be standoffish.”

“You mean they have long memories.”

She sighed. “Yes, they do.”

Boone waved a hand. “And yet you’re here. And not afraid of me.”

“Celeste was my cousin.” Her thoughts flew to her relatives and friends. “Some will think of me as a traitor to my own family. I might not actually be of much help to you buildin’ those relationships you want.”

“You’re a first step. I’ll appreciate your ideas on how I can polish up my tarnished image.”

A smile twitched the corners of her mouth, and she raised her head. “If you don’t drive around in that Bentley like you’re royalty, that might be helpful.”

“Should I buy a pickup?”

“Wouldn’t hurt.” She smiled. “Might be nice to see you doin’ some fishing or hiring an airboat for a swamp tour. Get to know the locals.”

“Sure they won’t try to toss me off the boat?”

She arched a brow and her gaze dropped to his muscled chest. “If you wore something besides dress shirts and suits, they might actually notice they’d have a hard time tossin’ you anywhere.”

His head tilted to the side “How about I put you in charge of my meet-the-locals campaign? And you’ll shop for things I should be wearing to impress them a little less.”

She grinned. “I promise I won’t put you in a Bubba Gump Shrimp T-shirt.”

His teeth flashed with his quick smile.

Darkness had deepened around them. Gone was her nervousness, although whether from the wine or the conversation, she wasn’t sure. “I guess you really do need someone like me.”

“Did you think I was hiring you just because you’re beautiful?”

She blinked, her smile fading. “I thought maybe you were hiring me just because I was Celeste’s cousin.” Her mouth dried, but she forced out the words. “Because I look so similar to Celeste, folks are bound to be nervous, thinkin’ you’re bound to repeat the past. If I managed not to die, you’d have your proof you’re not a murderer to wave in front of their faces.”

Boone breathed deeply. “You must not have a very high opinion of me.”

“I’m sorry if I’m bein’ blunt, but I thought you might appreciate a little plain speakin’. I don’t have any opinion of you at all. I don’t know you. But I did my homework. I studied you. You led an impressive career while you were in the navy. And somehow, you parlayed what you learned and the connections you made along the way into this company that you’ve taken global in just a few years. So I know you’re smart. That you’ve managed to inspire loyalty in the men who followed you from the navy. You hire the best. Have a stellar reputation.” Tilly gave him a straight, unblinking stare. “A dangerous one as well.”