There was a beat of silence at the other end of the phone. Then Tracker said, “What’s the problem?”
“Maybe it sounds too good to be true.”
Tracker laughed. “You got a point there. Your little scenario has just moved to the number-one spot on my favorite-fantasy list. If you turn her down, please mention my name as a backup.”
“No.”
Tracker gave an exaggerated sigh. “Hands off. I get the picture.”
“It’s not that.” But Lucas was all too afraid that it was just that. For some reason, he didn’t like the idea of Mac taking her proposal elsewhere. It was bad enough to picture her with some anonymous man that one of her research contacts fixed her up with. But when he pictured her with Tracker, it was even worse. Tracker appreciated certain things about women, but he didn’t trust them. And it occurred to Lucas that he wanted very much to protect Mac from getting hurt.
“If you’re worried about her being after your money, I think you’re safe there. I ran a financial check on her. She has a trust fund of two million from her parents, but she seems to live on what she makes as a full professor at the university. And she may get an influx of money in the near future. Several biotech firms are very interested in the research she’s doing. It’s some very promising stuff on slowing the aging process at the cellular level. One of them has been wining and dining her recently. That’s all I’ve got so far, but she sure doesn’t fit the profile of a fortune hunter.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“One other thing,” Tracker said. “There was a break-in at her lab at the university. Must have happened when she was at your place on Sunday. According to campus security, there was no damage. Whoever it was got into the safe, but she told the police none of her research was stolen. She evidently keeps it elsewhere.”
“Who would be after her research?”
“I figured you’d want to know, so I put a man on it. I assumed that might be the problem she wanted your help with. Look, boss, I’m going to give you some unsolicited and probably unwanted advice.”
“Tracker…”
“No one works harder for your family than you do. Maybe it’s time you relaxed and had a little fun. I say go for it.”
Tracker’s laughter was still ringing in his ear when he cut the connection. He’d come to pretty much the same decision on his own. If the doc was determined to create fantasies, he might as well be on the receiving end. Hell, he’d come up with several of his own he’d like to try out. And when the time came for the fantasies to end…he’d just have to let her down very easy. It was the one thing besides business that he’d worked to develop a skill for. He knew how to say goodbye.
MAC CAREFULLY CONSIDERED the two bathing suits she’d packed. The one still lying on top of her suitcase was a black tank top with a matching thong. The one she was wearing was a whisper-thin piece of silky latex in a shimmering emerald green. It covered her like a second skin from her breasts to her thighs, and it did everything that Madame Gervais said it would—revealing practically everything and suggesting more. More importantly, it fit the particular fantasy she wanted to create.
Picking up a flowered piece of silk, she wrapped it around herself and tied it at the waist. Then she studied herself in the mirror and nodded.
Guilt-free sex with a beautiful, young island girl—that was the fantasy she’d chosen. She’d thought of it when she’d been talking to Sophie. It supposedly appealed to most men. Music from South Pacific hummed at the edges of her mind as she ran through the details in her mind. It would help if she could get Lucas to go into the water with her. Supposedly, men had very erotic fantasies about mermaids too. And since she didn’t have the information that the questionnaire would have given her, a backup plan was a good idea.
Moving closer to the mirror, she ran her hands through her hair and studied herself more closely. Madame Gervais had told her that the right clothes could make all the difference. Mac was beginning to believe she was right. The outfit she was wearing did make her feel different, more confident.
When she stepped out that door, she was going to be a young girl who’d been born and raised in a village on this island. Lania was her name. And Lucas was a stranger who had been washed ashore by a storm. A dark handsome stranger she was strongly attracted to, a man whose touch she was beginning to crave. A man who would leave her soon, unless she convinced him to stay.
On impulse, she picked up the string of pearls she’d taken from her bag and fastened them around her neck. They fit well with the fantasy.
Turning, she headed toward the door of the cabin. She saw him even before she stepped out on the porch. He was hurrying up the path. In her mind, she pictured running to him across the sand. He would sweep her up into his arms and carry her down to a secluded section of the beach.
It was the water bottle she’d left on the top step that shattered the image forming in her mind. Her foot snagged on it, and she made a grab for the post. It kept her from falling, but it also swayed ominously, rattling more loose shingles on the roof. Three of them showered to the ground and one landed on Lucas’s shoulder as he reached her.
“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing it off.
“Are you?” It was his quick grin that made her smile, and suddenly they were both laughing. When she reached for the post again to steady herself, he grabbed her hand.
“Please. I don’t want to be hit by any more falling debris.”
She felt a fresh wave of laughter bubbling up.
When it finally subsided, she found she was standing on the bottom step, his hands were at her waist, steadying her, and her eyes were level with his. Laughter had lightened the color, but the blue was already deepening, and his gaze had become intent. Her body reacted instantly, every nerve ending snapping to attention the way they always seemed to when he was close.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth. His lips were wide, not thin…not too full either. It was hard to tell if they would be hard or soft, and she had a sudden, compelling need to find out. In her dream, he’d touched her—everywhere. But he hadn’t kissed her. She leaned closer.
“Doc…” Lucas cleared his throat as he tightened his grip on her waist, once more steadying her. “I came back to the cabin to tell you that I don’t need twenty-four hours. I’ve reached a decision.”
A quick skip of panic moved through her. He was going to say no. To forestall him, she pressed her fingers against his mouth. “I’ve reached a decision too.”
“Go ahead.”
The movement of his lips against her fingers sent a wave of heat through her. “I was coming down to the beach to…”
“Yes?”
Another wave of heat shot through her. “I wanted to…that is, I wondered if you…” It was hard to keep her mind on the fantasy, hard to think of anything but the pressure, the heat of his mouth on her fingers. What would his lips feel like on hers? What would they taste like? At the same time that she struggled to keep her focus, she couldn’t seem to prevent herself from moving closer. “I have a fantasy in mind…”
“Yes.”
In the fantasy that filled her mind, he gripped her wrist to pull her hand away. Then his mouth crushed hers, strong arms lifted her, carrying her into the cabin, and then the full weight of his body pressed her into the mattress of that narrow cot. Even as a sharp spear of pleasure streaked through her, she struggled to rid her mind of the image. She was supposed to be creating his fantasy, not hers.
Struggling to concentrate, she said, “My name is Lania. You’re shipwrecked on my island. And every day I’ve come from the village to nurse you. To bring you food. There isn’t a part of your body I haven’t seen.” She pictured it in her mind. “There isn’t a part of you I haven’t touched.” She could feel the smooth skin stretched taut over long bones, solid muscles. “You’ve been growing stronger every day. You haven’t noticed, but I’ve been watching you work on your boat. I know that you’ll leave soon. But before you do…I want to—I need to—”
She wasn’t sure what it was—the fantasy that her words were conjuring up in her mind or the heat that seemed to be steadily drawing her closer to him. But the need she felt to kiss him had twisted into something sharp and compelling inside her. She dragged her fingers away from his mouth, rubbing them over his bottom lip as she did.
“I just have to kiss you. I’ve been dreaming of doing this for so long.” Framing his face with her hands, she touched her mouth to his. His lips were neither soft nor hard. “Just right,” she murmured.
“What?”
She drew back slightly but she didn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t seem to take her gaze from his lips. “Not too hard. Not too soft. Your mouth feels just right. I was wondering…”
This time when she pressed her mouth to his, she couldn’t seem to prevent her tongue from slipping between his lips. If she’d thought he’d tasted good a moment before, this was heaven. Not sweet really, and not any flavor that she could remember tasting before. It reminded her just a little of her favorite childhood candy—the dark chocolate that her father would always send her on her birthdays and that her mother would take away from her and hide. It always tasted so delicious, so forbidden when she found it.