She tapped one hand against the bag that contained his present. “It’s right in here. You’re going to love it.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“YOU’RE NOT REALLY GOING to make me wait until Saturday afternoon to see you again.”
Sophie turned in the front seat of the convertible to smile at the man behind the wheel. Sonny Falcone had been surprised and delighted when Susan Walker had called to invite him to lunch. “I’m booked solid with clients until Saturday morning.”
Susan Walker had a business trip that would coincide with a party his family was throwing at their vineyard. That was the story she’d given Sonny in D.C. When he’d invited her to attend the party, she’d agreed. But at some point during the time they’d spent together that afternoon, she’d decided she didn’t want her time in Napa dominated by Sonny.
He’d taken her to a lovely place in the hills where they’d sipped wine on a veranda that offered an even more enchanting view than the one she had from her hotel room. Then they’d had a late lunch at a small inn. He’d been charming, but less than totally attentive to all the lies she was telling him about herself and her business.
He was a very handsome man with the kind of body that had fascinated Italian sculptors for centuries. Perhaps that was why he was so totally self-absorbed.
“It was my good fortune that your plane got in early,” Sonny murmured.
“Mine too.” He’d mentioned that four times now. It wasn’t really his fault that he was…dull.
Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips.
Sophie waited, hopeful.
Nothing happened. His practiced, romantic gesture only confirmed what she’d been gradually discovering all afternoon. However smooth the moves, when this man touched her, she didn’t respond at all.
“I had a really lovely time,” Sonny said. Very gently, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was very soft, very warm—an expert caress of tongue and lips.
And it left her unmoved.
When she drew back, she kept a smile on her face. His eyes told her that he at least had enjoyed the kiss.
“Are you going to invite me in for a drink?”
“I can’t,” she said, taking care to inject regret into her tone. “Just as soon as I freshen up, I have to race to meet a client. After that I have to prepare for my presentation tomorrow. But I am so looking forward to relaxing on Saturday. The bulk of my business will be over by then.”
He reached out and ran a gentle hand down her hair. “We’ll relax together. The vineyard will be crowded, but I have a special treat for you. I remember what you said about wanting to go up in a hot-air balloon, and I have one reserved for us.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it.” Sophie let herself out of the car. At the archway that led into the courtyard of the hotel, she turned and waved. But it wasn’t until the doors of the lobby swung shut behind her that she let out a sigh of relief.
Or was it regret? No, she wasn’t going to let herself think that way. Dwelling on the fact that she’d switched identities with Mac just so that she could anonymously date a man she wasn’t attracted to was not going to be productive.
Squaring her shoulders, she strode across the lobby. Sonny wasn’t the only man in the Napa Valley. She would just have to find someone else to date anonymously while she was here. Turning on her heel, she walked back to the small desk where the concierge stood, talking into a phone. The moment he hung up, she beamed a smile at him. “My business dinner has just been canceled. Can you recommend a place nearby where a single girl could have some fun?”
“Sure thing.” The concierge placed a list in front of her, then began to run down it, adding to the information that was on the paper. By the time he finished, she had two possibilities in mind.
“Dr. Lloyd…”
The man had to call the name again before Sophie remembered to turn around. He was tall, blond, casually dressed and wearing the kind of sunglasses that reflected back a mirror image. He held a basket of flowers in his hand. “I came in just as you were talking to the concierge. When I heard your name, I thought I might deliver these personally and save one of the bellhops a trip. You are Dr. Lloyd?”
“Yes,” Sophie said, digging in her purse for a tip. She handed it to him in exchange for the basket. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Enjoy the flowers.”
Sophie couldn’t help but enjoy the scent. She had to hand it to Sonny Falcone. He had all the moves down pat. Maybe her lack of reaction to him was due to jet lag, and she’d feel differently on Saturday. It wasn’t until she got to the top of the stairs that it struck her.
Sonny didn’t know her as MacKenzie Lloyd. He couldn’t have sent the flowers. Sitting down on the top step, she fished through the blossoms for a card.
There wasn’t one.
WHAT IN THE WORLD was she going to come up with next? Lucas glanced down at the present in the hotel gift-shop bag Mac had been carrying around. To call the thin layer of latex he was wearing a bathing suit was a misnomer—unless you were an Olympic swimmer going for the minimum in aerodynamic resistance.
Turning his head and craning his neck, he attempted to get a view of the back. The suit revealed as much there as it did in the front.
“Are you ready?”
At the sound of Mac’s voice, Lucas poked his head out of the cabana. “This suit doesn’t cover much…” Neither did hers. In fact, it left enough bare to have his breath clogging his lungs. The tank top fit tighter than a second skin, and it stopped well above her navel. His gaze drifted over her soft, silky-looking skin to the bottom of the suit—a thin triangle of cloth that barely covered her—
“You’re embarrassed again,” she said, the amusement clear in her eyes.
“And you’re definitely not.” Stepping out of the cabana, Lucas took a quick look around the pool area to see how many other men were feasting their eyes on her. The heat had driven most of the hotel guests inside where they were either drinking in the lounge or resting up so they could sample some of the nightlife that Key West had to offer. He and Mac were alone except for the young man behind the towel booth about fifty yards away.
When they’d arrived, he’d introduced himself as Yancey and waved them toward the cabana, all the while assuring them that he’d guard Mac’s duffel bag with his life should they care to swim off to a more private part of the lagoon.
“Very nice suit,” Mac said.
When Lucas glanced toward the towel booth, he saw that Yancey was giving him a three-fingered wave.
“I think Yancey likes you,” Mac said. “In a totally sex-object sort of way.”
Lucas looked at her. “That seems to be the story of my life lately.”
“Are you ready to get started?”
For one moment, he was tempted to grab her wrist and drag her into the cabana. The fantasy filled his mind of how quickly he could have her out of that suit. God, he wanted to touch her—to run his hands over that skin at her waist, pale as moonlight, soft as rainwater. He wanted to taste it. The need ripped at him like a rusty claw as he whispered, “Come here, Doc.”
She took a step forward, then stopped. “You want to make love to me in the cabana.”
“You think?”
“That’s amazing. At least fifty-five percent of the men interviewed fantasize about making love in a place where they might get caught. I thought the number was a little high. Is that one of your favorite fantasies too?”
Lucas never before would have lumped himself in with that fifty-five percent. He couldn’t ever recall wanting to take the kind of risk that she was talking about. That he was thinking about. But he’d come very close to doing something in that lounge that might have gotten him arrested. Truth told, he was skating on pretty thin ice again.
It was high time he took another tack. Walking toward her, he stopped when their bodies were almost brushing. Then he pitched his voice low so that only she could hear him. “I don’t want to get caught. I want to make love to you where no one and nothing can interrupt us. I want to take my time and touch every single part of you. Then I want to taste you. The cabana is way too dark. I want to see your eyes when I’m inside you. And I want to stay inside you for a long, long time.”
Mac released the breath she was holding on a shudder. “You’re trying to distract me.”
“I’m trying to seduce you.” Unable to resist for a moment longer, he touched her, just the tips of her hair. She’d taken the blond wig off. He much preferred the richness of her own color—a mix of gold and fire.
Her breath shuddered out again.
He pressed his advantage, taking a step closer and bringing his body into contact with hers. Only the thinnest scraps of latex separated his flesh from hers. He felt the soft give of her breasts against his chest. She had to feel his hardness pressing against her.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then she said, “It’s still my turn.”
“Come back to the room with me, Doc.”
“I’m not Doc. I’m Fiona—at least, that’s the closest approximation in English.”
When she responded, her voice was barely a whisper, the sound erotic on the still air.