The Temporary Mrs. King (9 page)

Of course, she thought, Steven would have chuckled at that. He'd always teased her, telling her she cared too much
about things that didn't matter. She chewed at her bottom lip as she admitted silently she had always hated that.

“I don't think so.”

She blinked in surprise at Sean's statement. He looked right at her as he added, “We'll build around the trees. Seems a shame to cut them down, doesn't it?”

“It does,” Tomin agreed, not even realizing that Sean's focus was on Melinda. “But it's going to cost you, redoing some of the plans to accommodate the trees.”

Sean shrugged. “Sometimes it's worth going an extra mile or two.”

Melinda flushed and wondered if he was talking about the banyan trees? Or
her
? He'd been nothing but attentive for the last several days. She'd taken him around the island, introducing him to the residents. He'd charmed Kathy and her kids and when they had left her best friend's house, Kathy had given Melinda a smiling thumbs-up behind Sean's back. Everyone on Tesoro liked him. He played chess with her grandfather every afternoon and had the hotel staff eating out of his hand.

But with Melinda he was even
more
charming. He seemed to be touching her all the time. Taking her hand, draping an arm around her shoulders, brushing her hair back from her face. And every little touch was like a burning match thrown on to an unstable stack of kindling.

And now this.

He would save the banyan trees. Because of
her
. Looking into his eyes, she knew he was remembering being with her, lifting her onto the branch of the tree. That one, tension-filled moment in the sun-spattered shade. And something inside her turned over.

Honestly, she didn't know what to make of Sean King—which worried her a little. In the beginning, this had been all business. Now, she wasn't so sure. Now, she felt as
though she really
had
married a stranger. None of the research she'd done on Sean had prepared her for his thoughtfulness. Generosity. Kindness.

Her gaze locked with his, and he gave her that half smile she was becoming way too fond of. Something sizzled in the air between them and Melinda knew she was on a slippery slope.

An instant later, their connection was broken as he turned back to Tomin and said, “So let's talk equipment. How are we stocked for big machinery on the island? My brothers will be getting a cargo ship out this time tomorrow. If we need specific things, I can arrange it.”

Tomin clapped his hands together and rubbed them in keen anticipation. “Well now, let me tell you what I'm thinking.”

Melinda walked behind the men, half listening to their conversation and half concentrating on the wayward thoughts careening through her mind.

 

“We'll need at least two front loaders with the large buckets,” Sean told Rafe that afternoon in a conference call. “The guys here have a bulldozer and a forklift, but we'll need the scraper too and an extra forklift would probably be a good idea along with everything else.”

“Got it.” Rafe made notes, then looked back into the webcam. “We'll round up a couple of crews, offer them room and board, plus their pay for the duration of the job. Shouldn't be hard to get a lot of volunteers to sign up for work on a tropical island. So how's it going out there?”

“Not bad,” Sean said, leaning back in his desk chair.

The hotel suite he had set up as a temporary office was roomy and efficient, but damn, he felt as if he spent every waking moment in the Stanford hotel. If he wasn't in this office, he was in the restaurant or the bar or, God help
him, trying to sleep on that hideous couch in the suite he shared with Melinda, wondering what she was wearing to bed.

How pitiful was that?

“Yeah, you do a great job of selling that,” Rafe said with a snort. “I really believe you.”

Sean gave his brother a snide smile. Sarcasm. Another thing the King family was known for.

“Fine. Work's great. Everything else, not so much.”

“Told you not to marry that woman,” Rafe muttered.

A flicker of temper ignited inside Sean at hearing his brother call Melinda “that woman.” He didn't ask himself why his protective instincts kicked in. He simply accepted it. “Just what I needed. I-told-you-so's are so helpful. Thanks.”

Rafe blew out a breath and tapped his pen against his desktop. The sound was so clear, the action so familiar, that for a second or two, Sean could almost believe he was sitting in his brother's office at their headquarters in Long Beach. Though, if he
were
at home, things would be a lot simpler in his life.

There wouldn't be a Melinda making him insane, for one.

“So, I heard from Garrett.” Rafe watched him, waiting for a reaction.

He didn't wait long.

Sean jolted forward in his chair. “What the hell kind of family loyalty is that? I talk to our cousin, and he talks to you?”

He had only called his cousin, Garrett King, the day before and already the word was out? Some security expert, he thought with a sneer. Garrett and his twin Griffin owned and ran the country's foremost security company, and in between working for the idle rich, spoiled
celebrities and the occasional royal…they did jobs for the family. But Sean hadn't known about Garrett's whole unable-to-keep-his-trap-shut issues.

“Relax, he didn't come to me about you. I called him about having him look into a series of thefts at the warehouse.”

Stunned, Sean stared at him. “Why haven't I heard about this? What? I'm on an island so I'm not a partner anymore?”

“That's not it, you idiot,” Rafe muttered with a shake of his head. “Lucas and I just figured you had enough going on right now.”

“Great,” he said snidely. “Thanks for doing my thinking for me. What's this about?”

Rafe shrugged, but Sean could see the anger in his brother's eyes, belying that casual action. “Just what I said. Somebody's broken into our warehouse down at the harbor. Made off with a few things.”

“And how much are these ‘few things' worth?”

Rafe shoved one hand through his hair. “So far, we've lost about a hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of equipment.”

“Damn it Rafe, you should've told me.”

“Why?” his brother snapped. “You know who's doing it?”

“No, but I have a right to know what's happening to
our
business.”

Sean might as well have been on Pluto, he thought. Being on the island put him out of the loop and away from the business he and his brothers had built up from nothing. He didn't like knowing that there were things happening that he couldn't help with. He didn't have a hell of a lot in his life
except
for his family. And it was irritating as hell to be shut out—even if it was well meant.

“Yeah, well…fine.” Rafe snorted. “Excuse me for cutting you some slack while you're off in paradise. From now on, we'll keep you posted.”

That was as close to an apology as he was going to get from Rafe. “Good.”

“Now, about Garrett. You've got him looking into your
wife's
old boyfriend?”

Sean sighed. He had known Rafe wouldn't let that go. There wasn't a single member of the King family who knew when to butt the hell out. “Yeah. Call me curious. I want to know about this guy. Who he was. What he was. The way Melinda says his name, it's like he was a combo of Mother Teresa and a superhero.”

“Pisses you off?”

“Damn straight,” he admitted. But there was more to it than that, and that part, he kept to himself. He wanted to know how to fight the late, great Steven's memory. He wanted to be able to purge that guy from Melinda's mind, and to do that, he needed to know what he was fighting.

“You know, I wasn't going to tell you this,” Rafe said, “but Lucas bet me a thousand dollars that you wouldn't last out this idiotic marriage.”

Insult shot through him. “Hope you took the bet, because that'll be the easiest grand you ever made.”

Rafe smiled. “I'm not an idiot, unlike our brother. See, I know that you
never
go back on your word. And, that you got the lion's share of stubbornness from Dad.”

“Thanks, I think.” Being compared to their father wasn't exactly a compliment, but good to know that at least one of his brothers had faith in him. “You can tell Lucas for me that I'm not going anywhere until the two months are up.”

“I will,” Rafe said with another grin. “He won't believe
it, but that's his problem. So now, why don't you tell me what
your
problem is?”

Irritated, Sean snapped, “Not looking for a father confessor here.”

“Not offering. Just trying to help.”

“Nothing you can do, Rafe.” The only thing that was going to solve Sean's current and ongoing problem of aching groin and miserable temper, would be to finally get Melinda into bed. Under him. Over him. Surrounding him. Taking his body deep and holding him there…

“
Sean
!”

“What?” He shook his head and glared at Rafe. “What're you yelling at?”

“You zoned out. Care to tell me what you were thinking about?”

“No. Did you want to talk about Katie with us?”

“Good point. So, back to business then.” Rafe checked his notes, read them back to Sean and asked, “That everything?”

Sean almost said yes, then reconsidered. “There is one more thing.”

“Yeah?” Rafe listened as Sean talked, then smiled and said, “Consider it done.”

“Excellent.” Sean lifted his booted feet to the corner of his desk and crossed them at the ankles. “The cargo ship will leave tomorrow?”

“Should be in Tesoro by middle of next week.” Rafe smiled. “Your other package will be overnighted to you this afternoon.”

“'Preciate it.”

“Okay then. We'll talk again in a couple of days. And Sean—” Rafe paused. “If you need anything, we're just a quick flight away.”

“Thanks,” he said, meaning it. No matter how irritat
ing his brothers could be sometimes, it was good to know that they always had his back. Even if Lucas was dumb enough to bet against him. “I'll let you know.”

He ended the connection, closed his laptop and turned in his chair to stare out at the amazing view stretched out in front of him. The ocean beckoned. The sunlight, the fresh air. If he didn't get out of this hotel soon, he was going to lose it.

But he could wait one more day.

As soon as his package arrived from home, he'd make his move.

I
t was a perfect day to be out on the water.

Melinda's hair was in a thick braid to keep it out of her eyes. She wore a bright red tank top and a pair of white shorts and sneakers to help keep her footing on deck. She came up from the shadows below, stepped into brilliant sunshine, then took a second to look out at the wide expanse surrounding them. On the left was the island. Everywhere else, the ocean. In the distance, thunderheads gathered on the horizon and promised a storm later. But for now, the day was just right, with the heat of the sun pouring down on them and the cool sea breeze cooling them off.

Slowly, she turned to watch Sean at the bridge. He looked right at home there, his big hands steady on the teak wheel, his cool blue eyes focused on the sea, and she wondered if there was anywhere Sean King
didn't
look as if he were in charge.

In this tropical setting though, his black jeans and black T-shirt made him look even more dangerous than he usually did. Which was really saying something. She took a deep breath and enjoyed the opportunity to really have a good, long look at him. With his back to her, he wouldn't see her admiring gaze and that was a good thing. He really didn't need to know that it was getting harder and harder for her to ignore the incredible rush of desire she felt for him.

Her stomach buzzed with the sensation of a million butterflies taking flight at once, and she realized she was almost used to that sensation by now. Melinda's gaze dropped, taking in his broad back, narrow hips and long legs. Then she saw he was barefoot and somehow, that was so damn sexy, she found herself struggling just to breathe. Her heartbeat quickened, and she was forced to swallow hard against the sudden knot in her throat.

Sean King was temptation on two legs.

This last week had been…amazing, really. After that afternoon at the construction site, they'd spent every day together. He'd made her laugh, asked her opinion on the hotel design and in general made her feel more important than she ever had. More…essential.

He listened to her when she talked, entertained her with his stories about his family and filled her dreams with images that left her waking up aching.

Guilt tugged at her insides as she realized that she'd never experienced any of those feelings with Steven. Different from Sean, Steven had been a
shallow
kind of man. God, she couldn't believe she was even thinking that, but if she had to be honest about it, that was the word for him. They'd never spoken about anything serious. Never talked about the future or what it held. It had all been in the moment.

Exciting and yet—

Sean turned his head, and his blue eyes locked on her. A slow half smile curved his mouth, and she swore she could feel the pull of him—as if he were simply drawing her into his orbit. There didn't seem to be any way to avoid it—and since she was in honesty mode—Melinda could admit to herself that she didn't want to. She enjoyed being with Sean. She relished the moments when he would reach out and touch her hand. Or smooth her hair back from her face. She'd gotten used to him being there. With her. At her side.

And suddenly the thought of this marriage ending in a few short weeks felt more like a death knell than a resounding bell of liberation.

“Serious thoughts?” he asked.

“No,” she lied, with a shake of her head.

“Good.” He nodded and gave her another of those smiles. “Too pretty a day to be wasted. Come on up here.”

She pushed her earlier thoughts aside, told herself to get a grip and climbed the short ladder to the bridge. The
Corazon
was as familiar to her as her bedroom at the hotel. She'd practically grown up on the yacht. Her grandfather loved this ship. He never had been one for sailing—had claimed that he preferred speed to lolling around waiting for Heaven to give him a green light to go anywhere.

So the engine was powerful, the hull was sleek and they sliced through the crystalline waters like a hot knife through butter.

“It's a great boat,” Sean said, turning the wheel to follow the curve of the island.

“Grandfather used to take me out on it all the time when I was a little girl. I always loved it.”

“Not surprising,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed on the ocean. She liked that about him too. The careful regard
he showed for whatever he was doing at the moment. She liked his focus. His concentration. Especially when that laserlike focus was on
her
.

“Most people don't build boats like this anymore,” he said, smoothing one hand across the gleaming wood dashboard. “They go for fiberglass or some damn thing.” He flashed her a quick look and a grin. “Of course, my brother Decker has a company that builds, as he calls 'em,
real
boats. Luxury craft, like this. And man, Deck would love this beauty. It's damn sexy.”

Oh, yes
, she thought. Sexy was the word for it. Though she wasn't thinking about the boat at the moment.

She watched him as he expertly steered the ship into a tree-shaded cove on the far side of the island. He cut the engine and hit the button that dropped the anchor. A series of metallic clangs echoed briefly in the air as it dropped to the ocean floor.

When it was quiet again, the only sound the sigh of the water against the hull and birds in the nearby trees chirping crazily, she asked, “You're really good at handling boats. I know you said you live at the beach now, but did you grow up around the water too?”

He snorted. “Hardly. I grew up in Vegas.” He turned toward her and leaned one hip against the wheel. “My mom was a showgirl at the Tropicana when my dad met her. For me, it was desert heat, the glow of neon and the sense of quiet desperation that hangs over the strip.”

Surprised, she sat on a stool right beside him. The gentle rocking motion of the boat was a sensual motion that made her think of other, more primal rhythms. She cleared her mind and told herself to focus. “Funny, I never really thought of Las Vegas as anybody's
home
.”

“It wasn't,” he muttered, shifting his gaze to the trees
beyond the boat. “I just lived there. Until I was sixteen, anyway.”

“Sixteen?”

“Had to leave,” he said shortly. “Went and lived with my father until I left there for college and—”

“What?” She was watching him, waiting for him to finish his story, but his lips were clamped tightly together as if he were forcibly keeping the words from coming out. The sun pushed its way through the canopy of trees, tossing dappled shade across his face.

Finally, he blew out an exasperated breath and asked, “Why is it I find myself telling you things that I've never told anyone else?”

“Easier to talk to a stranger?”

One corner of his mouth went up. “We're not strangers, Melinda.”

“I guess not,” she said, realizing that she probably knew Sean better right now than she had known Steven. Though she'd promised to love
him
, forever. But then, time had nothing to do with feelings, did it? You could know someone for years and never really
know
them. Or, as with Sean, feel that instant attraction—that magnetic pull of one soul to another and—oh God, she was getting worse and worse.

“Maybe I've just got a friendly face?” Her quip was lighter than she felt, but she was trying to ease the tension within. It wasn't helping.

He just stared at her for several long, heart-stopping seconds. “You've got a gorgeous face. So, yeah. Maybe that's why. Maybe I'm just a sucker for a pretty face.”

Now Melinda laughed. “I can't see you being a ‘sucker' for anyone.”

He snorted a humorless laugh. “You couldn't be more wrong, babe.”

There was a world of old pain in those words. Shadows flickered in his eyes, and, instinctively, Melinda reached out for him, laying one hand on his forearm. He was always smiling. Always seemed so easygoing, that knowing something was haunting him bothered Melinda more than she would have cared to admit. “Sean? What is it?”

He glanced down at her hand on his arm, then frowned and took her hand in his. “Never mind me. What's this?”

The abrupt change in topic threw her for a minute. Her gaze fell to where his thumb was rubbing gently back and forth across a red mark on the back of her hand. “Oh, it's nothing. Just a little burn.”

His gaze snapped to hers. “How'd you burn yourself?”

She shrugged. She hadn't even given that minor burn a thought. “Would you believe a soldering iron?”

“Not what I expected,” he admitted, then softly drew his fingertips across the raised, red ridge.

It's just sensitive, Melinda assured herself silently. That's why Sean's touch was giving her goose bumps. It had nothing to do with Sean himself. Nothing at all to do with the swirl of heat mounting inside her. But even she didn't believe that.

“What were you soldering?”

She forced a smile and tugged her hand free of his. Every time he touched her, her brain seemed to go on vacation. And since they were alone together, Melinda needed every scrap of willpower she could command. And truth to tell, she didn't have much left when it came to Sean King.

Over the last week or so, he'd worn away most of her defenses as relentlessly as water on stone. She was hanging on by a thread and only her memories of Steven were
keeping her from giving in to what her body was demanding.

Even now, her skin hummed with electricity from Sean's touch. Ignoring that buzz of sensation, she said lightly, “If you can keep secrets, so can I.”

He nodded, as if accepting her at her word. “Okay, but I've also spilled a couple of secrets, too. So, I'm thinking you owe me one, and I'd really like to know how you hurt yourself.”

His eyes were bright again. No hint of shadows as he looked at her. Just the banked desire that was always there, just beneath the surface. She was glad for it, but at the same time, she felt that dangerous quickening happening between them again. How was it possible to want someone and not
want
to want them all at once?

A question for the ages, she mused. And not one that was going to be answered anytime soon.

“When we get back to the hotel,” she said, taking a step away, just for safety's sake, “I'll show you.”

“
Show
me?” He closed the distance between them again and cupped her chin as he rubbed the pad of his thumb across her skin. “Nothing I like better than a good game of Show and Tell.”

“I'll bet,” she murmured and he must have heard her because his smile widened and he winked at her.

Oh, boy. She was in some very deep trouble here.

And Sean looked as if he was enjoying her nervousness. Though what man wouldn't? But instead of pushing her, crowding her, he backed off and a part of her wanted to whimper. Which was irritating as hell, Melinda thought. Was her body just refusing to get the message her mind kept sending?

“So,” he said, heading for the steps, “good place for our picnic.”

She watched him go. “Picnic? I thought we were out for a ride.”

He paused on the steps, hands gripping the rails. A capricious wind caught his hair and tossed it into his eyes. He whipped his head back to clear his vision and his blue gaze locked with hers. “Nope. A nice picnic and I'm thinking maybe a swim.”

“I didn't bring a bathing suit.”

“Clothing optional,” he said with another wink.

Melinda's blood bubbled and boiled in her veins. She knew it because she could actually
feel
it. Her heartbeat jumped into overdrive as she watched him climb down the steps then disappear below decks.

Skinny-dipping with Sean King? That would be a major error. She was already too tempted by him. Seeing him naked and wet and…her mind conjured up an image that made her knees go suddenly weak. Nope. She couldn't do it. He was her husband—but not. This was a marriage—but not. So sex was out of the question—or not?

Oh, God.

“Got a surprise for you,” he called out as he stepped onto the deck.

She had already done a darn good job of imagining what his surprise was. She didn't think she could take too much more.

“What is it?”

He tipped his head back, looked up at her and challenged, “Come on down and see for yourself.”

“Oh, that's okay. Think I'll stay up here for awhile.” Yep. Safer that way. Keep some distance between them. Although, she was pretty much trapped on this boat with him and though she used to think of the yacht as huge, right now it felt like the size of a rowboat.

He looked up at her and grinned as if he knew exactly
what she was thinking. And he probably did. So, if she stayed up top like a big chicken, then he would know exactly how much he was getting to her.

“Okay,” he said, his tone teasing as he opened a picnic hamper obviously prepared by the hotel chef. Reaching in, he pulled out a flat white box and lifted the lid. “But if you're up there, you can't have any of what my sister-in-law Katie sent us.?…”

Katie. The one he'd called the cookie queen. Curious, she edged closer to the rail and watched him as he reached in to pull out a single cookie. It was the size of his fist. White, drizzled with chocolate and even as she watched, powdered sugar drifted in tiny clouds to the deck at his feet.

“That's cheating,” she said.

“I know,” he countered and took a bite. His eyes closed, and he sighed as he chewed, an expression of pure bliss crossing his features. “She sent my favorites, God bless Katie King.”

Her mouth watered and she was pretty sure the cookies had nothing to do with it. Just watching him was making Melinda want to drizzle
him
in chocolate and take a bite. Oh, God…

“They're melt-in-your-mouth good,” he coaxed, taking another bite. “Katie says they're called Mexican Wedding Cakes. But she tweaked the recipe a little, made them bigger and then she drips some melted dark chocolate on them when they're finished.”