The Ultimate Seduction (12 page)

In her periphery, Ryzard’s arms folded and he said in an ominous undertone, “Is that true?”

“I knew it. He’s taking advantage of you.”

She sucked in a jagged breath, more hurt than words could express, but it was the ugly truth they’d all been dancing around since her accident. She wasn’t worth a man’s attention.

She flashed a look of resentment at Ryzard, angry that he was witnessing her humiliation. At the same time, she wished he didn’t look so thunderous. She was desperately in need of backup. Instead, he’d probably leave her on a sandbar somewhere, but that was almost better than sending her back to the bosom of her kin.

“Thanks, Chris,” she choked. “Thanks for letting me know there’s no way he could possibly be attracted to me. I’m some broken, awful thing that ceased to be valuable when I ceased to be perfect. Shame rains upon us and it’s my fault. Has Mom taken to her room?”

A weighted pause. She didn’t dare look at Ryzard.

“I didn’t say that,” Christian said quietly.

“But it’s true! Tell me something. How many times have you stolen a weekend with someone? Hundreds,” she quickly provided. “How many times have you had to answer for it?
None.
And I never worked up the nerve to even kiss another man because I had a reputation to uphold. Not just mine, but the entire family’s. Paulie’s even.”

He swore. “Okay, I get it. You’re entitled to a private life, but this isn’t exactly the time, is it?” he seethed. “Or the man.”

“You haven’t told Mom and Dad, have you?”

“I didn’t know what to think, Tiff! This isn’t like you.”

“When have I ever had a chance to be who I am?” she cried. “I’ve been Dad’s daughter, Paulie’s intended. The bride who wore bandages. For God’s sake, I’m an adult. A married,
widowed
woman. I shouldn’t have to defend myself like I’ve committed a federal crime.”

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry. Truly.”

“How bad is it?” she asked, hanging her head, weighted by guilt despite all she’d just said. “Do I have to talk to them or better to wait?”

“They don’t know what to think, either. But they don’t want to see you get hurt in any way, ever again. Is this thing serious with Vrbancic?”

She glanced at Ryzard. He didn’t look quite so much as if he wanted to wring her neck, but he had an air of imperative surrounding him. As if he didn’t intend to wait much longer for her to give her attention back to him.

“Not, um, really,” she murmured.

Christian’s sharp sigh grated in her ear.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I miss where you married everyone you ever slept with?” she railed.

“So it’s gone that far.”

He didn’t have to take a tone like the septic was backed up!

“Goodbye, Chris. Tell Mom and Dad whatever you want.” She stabbed the end button and threw her phone onto the bed. Then dropped a pillow on top of it for good measure. And added a punch that left a deep indent.

“I’d like to say I’m above caring what people think of me, but when my family judges me, it hurts.” Her baleful gaze met one that didn’t so much judge as measure.

“You knew they would disapprove. That’s why you were upset.”

“Not because it’s you. They would have been scandalized no matter who I slept with. Although, I’m sure there’s some shock value that they sent me to talk to you and here I am. As God is my witness, I’ll never, ever tell my mother I didn’t even see your face the first time, let alone know your name.” She buried her hot face in her clammy hands, reacting to all that had happened since she’d woken so abruptly. “This isn’t the way I usually behave, Ryzard. I can’t blame them for being shocked.”

“Be careful how much you hate your parents,
draga.
They’re the only ones you have.”

“You’re going to judge me now?” She lifted her face in challenge.

“I’m only offering the benefit of my experience.”

“You hated your parents?” She didn’t believe it.

“I was angry with them for sending me away. Keeping me away from my home. It felt like a rejection.”

He hadn’t explained that part before. A pang struck at how lonely and discarded he must have felt.

Beneath the pillow, her phone burbled. Tiffany made a noise and started from the room, then said, “Actually, I want to change. It’s too hot for long pants.”

Ryzard closed the door, but remained in the room. Apparently he intended to watch. Hell. The man gave her goose bumps without making any effort at all.

Skimming past the one-shoulder and long-sleeved shirts and dresses, she pulled out a skimpy sundress she would have worn only in the privacy of her suite yesterday. It was patterned busily in neon pink and green and yellow, hopefully bright enough to draw attention from her equally busy skin patterns.

The scared mouse in her wanted to hide under layers, but a spunky, more daring part of her wanted to test whether she still held his interest.

Stripping unceremoniously, even dropping her bra, she shrugged her arms under the spaghetti straps and tugged it into place, then picked up the flared skirt in a little curtsy, spinning under the direction of his twirled finger.

“Adorable. Now come here.”

“And risk making love on that telephone? Possibly landing on buttons that could have serious consequences? No. You promised me a meal and we skipped lunch.”

“Yet I recall being very satisfied with everything I tasted,” he mused, one hand on the door latch. The other caressed her bottom as she exited in front of him.

Her blood skipped in her arteries, and she was blushing hard as she led him outside to where a table was set and chilled wine was ready to be uncorked. The sun sat low on the horizon, ducking beneath the shade to strike off the silver and crystal.

Ryzard held a chair in a corner for her and asked for a filtered shade to be drawn.

“I’m sorry I was such a pill,” she said contritely. “You took me by surprise with this.” She indicated the extravagance of the cat. “I thought we’d part ways this afternoon and maybe I’d see you with someone else at a future
Q Virtus
event. This is better,” she allowed, but met his gaze with a level one. “But I do have to work.”

“Apology accepted. And I’ve already instructed my crew to set up a work space in the cabin where your things were unpacked. It should be completed by morning.”

“They’re going to work while I’m sleeping in there?” she asked, already anticipating his reply.

“You won’t be in there,
draga.
And you won’t be sleeping.”

* * *

Ryzard flipped through his emails on his tablet while he waited for Tiffany to finish her call. They’d had a surprisingly productive morning, despite lazing in bed first thing. An easy, affectionate companionship had fallen between them after her rather explosive reaction to waking at sea yesterday.

He still chafed a little, recalling it, even though he now understood it to be her own baggage with her family that had caused her to push him away like that. His reaction, however, continued to niggle at him no matter how much he wanted to ignore it. Her claim that she was with him out of desperation had slapped him with a surprisingly sharp hand.

She was volatile. A woman as sexually passionate as she was would have strong feelings in every aspect of her life, he supposed. He could only imagine what kind of mama bear she’d be about her children.

Sucking in a breath at having taken such a bizarre turn in his mind, he lifted his head to see her set aside her phone.

“Done. Really sorry,” she said.

“Don’t apologize. We both have to work. I made you wait this morning.”

She gave him a look that said,
Seriously?
and slid her eyes to the crewman setting out their air tanks.

He grinned, amused by her blushing over his referring to the way they’d been driving each other into a frenzy, fresh out of the shower, when he’d had to take a call that couldn’t be put off. Afterward, they’d nearly ripped each other apart, and breakfast had been a quietly stunned affair when her bare foot atop his had pleased him well beyond what was reasonable.

They’d parted ways after, each moving to their separate work spaces, but he’d been distracted by her proximity. With most women, that would signal the end for him. Not with Tiffany. His brain couldn’t even contemplate an end to this. It had barely started. She was too extraordinary.

Her phone rang and she turned from removing her wrap, clad only in her bikini as she stepped toward the table where she’d left the phone. “I don’t have to get that. We’ll pretend we’re already in the water and— Oh shoot, it’s my brother. I should answer. Why are you staring?” She followed his gaze to her torso, then sent an anxious look to the crewman who had lifted her tank, ready to strap it onto her.

“I’m staring because you’re hot as hell,” Ryzard prevaricated. “Take your call or you’ll be wondering what he wanted.”

Somewhat flustered, she stabbed the phone, then held the screen before her for the video call. “Hey,” she said as she picked up her wrap and shrugged her arm into it.

Ryzard sighed inwardly. He hadn’t meant to make her feel sensitive. He’d been looking at her scars, yes, but only thinking that a woman with less zeal for life would have succumbed to such injuries. Tiffany’s ferocious spirit was the reason she’d survived, and he was very glad she had.

“You’re naked?” Her brother frowned. “It’s the middle of the day. I thought it would be safe to call.”

“Excuse me, darling,” Tiffany said to Ryzard. “My brother has called to ask if the sun is over the yardarm. Could you lift the sheet and see?”

Christian sputtered, Ryzard looked to the sky for patience and his crewman buried a snort of laughter into his shirt collar. Although Ryzard had to admit it was nice to know she gave others a hard time, not just him.

“We’re about to go swimming, you idiot,” she said to her brother. “See? Bathing suit.” She ran her phone down her body as if she was scanning for radioactivity, showing him the strapless band and itsy slash of blue. Then she turned the phone to show him the equipment on the deck. “There are the breathing tanks and scuba flippers. There’s the mask that’s going to give me an anxiety attack so Ryzard will have to buddy-breathe me to the surface. Is my virtue restored? Want to tell me now why you called?”

“Dad hasn’t come across anything useful yet, but said he’d ask around.”

“Motivated, is he?” The way Tiffany’s blond lashes lifted to send a resolute look toward Ryzard made his blood kick into higher gear. “Tell him I appreciate anything he’s able to pass along.”

“As do I,” Ryzard told her as she hung up. “If you’re talking about what I think you are.”

“I asked Christian to put a bug in his ear. Dad’s not speaking to me directly right now, but I don’t know if that’s because he’s in Washington and doesn’t have time for the kind of conversation he thinks we need to have or if he’s genuinely angry. I hope you don’t mind, but I was worried Dad might—” She shrugged apologetically. “I’m his little princess. I didn’t want any grumpiness he felt toward you to come out with anyone in a position to affect your situation. If he knows I have an interest in the outcome, he’ll take care to support your petition. Or at least not damage it.”

His ears rang with the impact of what she was saying. “He has that kind of influence?” It wasn’t like him to underestimate people, but his sexual enthrallment had temporarily shortened his sight of the bigger picture.

“He’s very well connected. And I’m being overcautious,” she assured him, moving to put a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. He wouldn’t do anything rash. Something like throwing support behind a leader who hasn’t been recognized... It’s too big a gamble going into an election. If anything he’ll be even more circumspect, couching his reaction while trying to find out everything he can. He’s not going to stir up a lynch mob or anything.”

“No shotgun wedding?” he prompted, throat dry. How far would her father go for his daughter’s groom?

“Absolutely not,” she assured him.

He should be relieved. He couldn’t betray Luiza’s memory by contemplating marriage to another woman, but in the back of his mind a voice whispered,
If it was for your country...

He brushed the thought aside, trying to remind himself this was a simple fling. Two people enjoying sexual compatibility and the luxury of Caribbean waters. If he took a moment to reassess Tiffany, not just because she was lissome and golden, not simply because she had a quick, intelligent mind and a clear understanding of politics, but because she could soon be first daughter of the United States of America, that didn’t mean he was being disloyal to his one true love. Luiza had had a dream for their country, and he was obligated to consider any avenue to achieve it. That’s all he was doing.

He watched her frown at her diving mask, lips white where she pinched them together. She’d told him about her aversion to wearing things tight against her face, but he watched her draw in courage with a deep breath and wrestle the mask onto her face.

“I’m really worried I’ll freak out down there,” she said in a tone made nasal by the mask covering the upper half of her face. Her eyes behind the glass were anxious.

“You’re tough,” he told her, pride and regard moving in him. “You’ll handle it.”

“You don’t know that.” She set a hand on her bare chest. “My heart’s going a mile a minute.”

“But you’re trying anyway, despite your anxiety. That’s why I know you’ll be fine,” he assured her.

He quickly slipped into his own gear, not wanting to make her wait for the distraction of reef and shipwreck to take her mind off her fears. Holiday fun, he insisted to himself. Nothing so complex as wanting to coax her past bad memories because he felt compelled to share the wonder below the surface with her.

Why it mattered to him that she go with him was a puzzle he didn’t study too closely. He could just as easily dive with one of his crew and had in the past, but he was aware of a preference for staying aboard with her over diving without her.

That wasn’t like him. He was not a dependent person. Tiffany had been surprised the other day when he’d told her he didn’t want a wife or children. He understood the reaction. Everyone in the world wanted a lifetime companion and offspring, but after Luiza, he’d closed himself off to the idea.