The Tycoon's Red Hot Marriage Merger (7 page)

She swallowed hard. A boat trip. With Marco. A cruise with sharks, and rip tides, and other creatures she didn’t want to think about at any time. She had to tell him she couldn’t handle this kind of honeymoon.

She opened her mouth to speak. To tell him no way. No how. Not going to happen.

He gave her a devil-may-care grin. “It’s perfect given our mutual love of sailing.”

Cassandra snapped her mouth shut. The ocean was as much a part of him as it had once been of her. That side of him had known a mother who was also of the sea and had a rich heritage of fishermen and sailors flowing through her veins. That side of him had bonded with a father who had finally accepted him when they conquered the ocean.

She weighed her options. Neither appealed. Confess her phobia and her extreme sea sickness that had been brought on by the trauma, or go along with his plan? “Then I had better pack my new bikinis,” she said.

“
Si
.” Marco wound her into his arms. “But you won’t need them for long.”

His hands were hot against her back, and his muscular body pressed to hers. He covered her lips with his and she yielded, joining his tongue’s invasion. Marco roamed his hands over her back, her hips, her waist. He tugged the elastic out of her hair, loosening it until it tumbled down.

A groan escaped his mouth—rough and rugged and ruthless.

Her body hummed to life, answering his. Her breasts swelled, and her nipples pebbled against her thin sundress. Even while he was bringing her body to a cheering chorus of traitorous notes, she clung to the edge of reason. The intense carnal craving unfurling inside her—the aching desire to be touched, tempted, taken—merged with an untenable realization.

The best way to mine the rich vein of gold flowing through him, the gold capable creating satisfying partnership of equals bond by a marriage contract, was to do the one thing she had sworn she would never do again. Go back to the ocean and sail her waters. And when she returned to the Atlantic, she’d have to face her greatest failure—and her overwhelming guilt—without ever revealing the truth.

Chapter Four

Marco had planned to set sail earlier in the week, but the transfer of ownership and documentation necessary to install Cassandra on the Nelson Industries’ board of directors delayed his plans. Now, finally free of the pressures of work, Marco increased his yacht’s speed and cruised faster across the open water. The sting of salt and the ocean’s spray exhilarated him this early Thursday morning.

“Great day for a sail,” he said, turning to look at Cassandra.

She huddled in the seat behind him, clutching her belly, and moaned.

“What’s wrong?” Marco asked.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

Cassandra’s face was pale, almost a shade of lime, and growing greener by the second. “You’re
sea sick
?” He hadn’t factored that into the sexy seduction he’d planned.

“Afraid so.” She brought a trembling hand to her mouth.

He’d expected her to be nervous, and could understand why after what had happened four years ago, but this? No way. “You grew up in Key West. You’ve been sailing and swimming since before you entered Kindergarten. What gives?” His renowned regatta harbor princess was close to retching her guts out. A wobbly, woeful mess.

Though a sexy one in her navy and white striped V-neck shirt tucked into a pair of matching blue shorts that didn’t leave anything to his imagination. He’d always been a leg man and Cassandra had a pair that turned him on. Which, unfortunately, didn’t matter considering how miserable she looked.

She swallowed hard, and fear skittered into her eyes before she looked away. “I must have lost my sea legs because I’ve avoided it too long.”

Dios
. What happened to the woman who’d been part of the Platinum Cup’s racing crew four years ago? “You’ve raced through the waters. You
design
yachts. Why is this so difficult for you?” The brisk wind whipped loose strands of Cassandra’s ponytail and they contrasted starkly against her milky-white skin. “How have you brought your designs through the final production phases if you can’t sail?”

“I trust my crew’s assessments,” Cassandra replied, turning even paler.

Marco steered the oversized wheel. He wanted to go to her, hold her in his arms to comfort her, but the yacht needed his hands. “I’m sorry you’re not doing well, but you’ll feel better soon.” He hoped. Otherwise Operation Honeymoon Virgin Seduction would be a total bust. “There’s motion sickness medication down below.” He wanted to run the vessel by capturing the strong winds in her sails, but Cassandra needed him more.

He cut the engine. “I’ll get it for you.” He moved to stand next to her, touching her slim shoulder. “Once the medicine kicks in you’ll feel much better.”

“Thank you,” she said, resting her head against his forearm. “I hope I haven’t ruined everything.”

“Absolutely not.” He squeezed her shoulder gently to reassure her. “One bad thing doesn’t mean the rest of our plans are messed up.”

“I’m glad one of us is confident in that fact.”

“I have enough for both of us,” he said before leaving to get her the medication.

Within a half an hour, after taking the pills along with a few tentative sips of ginger ale, Cassandra looked less green around the gills.

“Better?” he asked, pleased to see her perking up. Though Marco had organized this trip on the
Diablo
to execute a decadent initiation into the sexy side of his marriage, now something more than lust traveled through him while he sat beside her.

Tenderness. An unfamiliar sensation of true affection and concern mingled with the wanting and craving he’d suppressed for days.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Okay enough for me to start the engines?”

“I’ll be fine.” She tilted her chin up. “Just give me time to get my bearings, and we’ll have the honeymoon we deserve.”

Marco stood, then went to the helm and turned on the ship’s engine. Slowly, more slowly than he would have liked, he guided it through calmer waters. The
Diablo
could cross the Atlantic if necessary, withstand weather and storms far crueler than the calm ocean waves he cruised on today.

After several minutes, he looked over his shoulder. “Can you handle a faster clip now?”

Her eyes had a hint of their usual challenge in them when she locked her gaze with his.

“Go for it,” she said, giving him the thumbs-up signal.

“Join me at the wheel.” Marco held out his hand. “You’ll be up on your sea legs faster if you take control.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve manned the helm,” Cassandra said, standing and holding the side rail for support.

She stepped toward him, then teetered slightly until he clasped her palm. “Easy does it.” Marco positioned her front of him. “Take the wheel.”

“I don’t know.” Cassandra’s voice wavered. “I might screw something up.”

A sharp pain stabbed behind his ribcage. Her vulnerability brought out a fierce desire to protect her from all the memories. “You won’t.” He guided her hand to the wheel. “Four years is too long to be separated from something you once loved.” He wanted to help Cassandra move beyond the day of the crash. Not only that, she made him want to be better than the man she had proposed to days earlier.

He wanted his wife to
like
him.

So they could be good in bed together, making babies, he reminded himself.

Marco helped Cassandra turn the
Diablo
east, toward the coast. In the distance he could make out the uneven shoreline, the white ocean caps caressing the sandy beaches and slapping against the outgrowths of rocks and cliffs.

A plane flew overhead, cutting a plume of white across the brilliant blue sky. Sea gulls cried while they hunted for their afternoon meal and fought each other for scraps along the coast. The cool ocean breeze carried a briny, salty scent, and lifted the edges of the sails Marco had wanted to release earlier.

“You’re doing great,” he said while they maneuvered the
Diablo
through a wide gap between two high cliffs.

Waves crashed against the rocky shoreline and her grip tightened on the wheel. “I’m afraid. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop feeling this way.”

“Fear is a good thing. The ocean is a dangerous mistress.” Marco bracketed her body with his, and her muscles relaxed until she melded her sweet bottom against his torso just right. Heat rushed to his groin and he grew uncomfortably hard. His tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth, but he dumped mental ice on his arousal and finally managed to speak. “She needs to be treated with respect.” And so did Cassandra.

“I learned that the hard way,” she said ruefully, then pointed. “Is that the cove?”

“
Si
.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

As was Cassandra. Marco inhaled the feminine floral scent of her shampoo. So unlike the stuffed and starchy person she had presented to the world. So very unlike the woman she had transformed into after their shopping spree in Las Vegas. “And the waters are calm.” But his blood ran wild.

They rode silently into the cove. “I’m sorry I got sick,” Cassandra said.

“No need to apologize.” Up until today, Marco had credited himself for knowing everything about her family, but Cassandra’s defection from the regatta circuit had slipped beyond his radar. Briefly, he wondered what other secrets she carried.

“Your crew has covered well for you,” he said. “Three teams have won regattas all over the world with your designs.”

“It’s easy to use their anecdotal data to upgrade and retool my work. But I’d like to overcome my phobia.” Cassandra gazed at him over her shoulder. “I know I’ll extrapolate additional details that can refine my designs if I’m there for the final testing stages.”

Her determination impressed him. “You will.” He cut the engine. “Hold the wheel.”

“But…”

“The
Diablo’s
not going anywhere.”

He left her to drop the anchor and returned to find her smiling. “What is it?”

“I’m okay. I didn’t panic. For the first time in four years I didn’t freak out.” Her grin lit up her beautiful face and her eyes glowed. “Thank you.”

His heartbeat quickened and warmth filled his chest. “I knew you could do it,” he said, stretching his arms wide. “Welcome to my second home.” The property he had purchased after he’d amassed a fortune glinted in the bright sun, its tan stucco exterior and terra cotta tiled roof standing high in the cliffs beyond the shoreline.

Sunrays reflected across the cerulean waters and painted the beach a sharp shade of white. Cassandra raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “Will we stay there tonight?” she asked a little too hopefully.

“You’re getting your bearings.” Marco crossed the deck and brushed a stray strand of her hair from her cheek. “We’ll stay on board, visit the villa onshore, and play tourist before we return to Key West in two weeks.” He held her eyes, as blue as the ocean surrounding them, willing her to understand that now was not the time to leave the
Diablo.
Not when she had just regained a spark of her passion for the ocean. And, he hoped, that passion would ignite into more desire firing between them.

For a moment he thought she’d argue, but Cassandra didn’t flinch. “You’re right,” she said. “The best way I can get past this ridiculous phobia is to stay on the
Diablo
. Because the Chief Operating Officer of Nelson Industries should test run her production line, don’t you think?”

All he wanted to test run was Cassandra. Not just because she was sexy as hell, but because he admired her for her courage. And for her determination to beat down her fears. “Exactly,” he said. “Do you feel well enough to eat?”

She gave him a flirtatious look. “Actually, I’m more interested in doing other things.”

Suddenly it was Marco who felt out of his element. Here was a woman who already had wiggled her way beneath his usual tough exterior, the mask he presented the world. Now she played the vixen to perfection and he was hot for her. But not too hot to rush into bed with her after waiting this long for the moment to be right. No matter how much she pushed.

“There’s plenty of daylight,
Tesoro
. Let’s swim.” He wrapped his arms around her, drew her near, nipped her earlobe, and felt her body tremble. “I can’t wait to see you in one of the bikinis I bought when we were in Vegas.”

She swallowed hard, and he could see her pulse fluttering in her throat. “They’re awfully tiny. I don’t think I’ll do any of them justice.”

Dios.
Why didn’t Cassandra know she was beautiful? Having brains didn’t mean she wasn’t sexy. But she had done her very best to hide all her luscious curves behind manly suits and unsexy shoes. He much preferred her now. Sexy, smart, and all his. “I’m sure you’ll look fantastic. But I doubt you’ll be wearing it for long.” He traced his lips down the smooth column of her neck, kissing and nibbling lower.

“Marco, are you sure you want to go for a swim?”

“
Si.”
He teased her with his tongue, eager to possess her. But first he’d build her anticipation and then he’d teach her how to be 100-percent his woman.