The Devil She Knew(13)

Then she pressed forward as though she were about to climb into his lap,  and he knew that the moment he'd wished for and dreamed all these years  had arrived. Suzie would finally be his.

But there was one thing nagging at him, not letting him go.

He hadn't told her his one condition. Hadn't been straight with her  about what his limits were when it came to getting close to anyone.

Reluctantly, cursing his need for honesty, he pulled away.

Once he would have taken her to bed with no hesitation, happy to play it  casual and see what might happen. But what had happened to Harrison's  baby girl had changed everything. Yasmina's death had shattered his life  and taught him to be careful who he let in. He'd never be careless with  anyone again.

"Before we do this, I need to be up front with you." He tried to make  his tone gentle, but his whole body was so tight with arousal, the words  came out strained. "Sleeping together would only be a one-night thing. I  can't give you any more than that. Even if something happens and we  don't get to Port Denarau tomorrow, one night is my limit."

Suzie sat back, frowning, and put both hands up in a warding-off gesture  that made his heart sink. "Wait a minute. Where did that come from? One  kiss and you assume I'm going to have sex with you?" She shook her  head. "How can you think of me as a one-night kind of woman? You're the  one who gave me that reputation in the first place. You made it up,  remember? And I spent a long time living it down."

Shit. He'd obviously touched a nerve. Nate touched her arm, trying to  calm her down. "Stop, Suzie. I didn't mean it like that. I was just  being honest." He was tempted to tell her he said the same thing to  every woman he slept with, but that would definitely make things worse.

"Honest." She snorted. "You think I'll get one taste of you and get hooked? Like you're heroin on legs?"

"There are sparks between us. You can't deny it. All I'm trying to do is make sure you don't get hurt."

Her eyes narrowed and she folded her arms. "You're so keen on the truth?  Then answer honestly. If Laura were here, would you proposition her  like this? Would you tell her you want a single night with her before  going on your merry way?"

Nate knitted his brow. What was it with Suzie and her sister? "Laura's  not the one who drives me crazy," he said honestly. "I've never wanted  to kiss her. But when you're in front of me, it's all I can think  about."

Suzie blinked, then drew in a breath. He'd obviously surprised her. The  only thing he couldn't tell was whether she saw it for the compliment it  was, or whether she was somehow going to find an insult in the fact he  wasn't attracted to Laura.

When she picked up her wine glass, her hand shook a little. He watched  her take a sip, watched her moisten her beautiful lips with the liquid,  and wished he'd kept his big mouth shut. If he'd kept kissing her, they  would have gone to bed together and everything would have been great.

He could have had the woman he'd wanted for most of his life, finally  prised her out of his brain for good, then said goodbye. The perfect  scenario. Only he'd blown it.         

     



 

She put the glass down and he could have kicked his stupid self right in  the nuts. Her face told him what her answer would be. But because he  wanted her so damn badly he could hardly stand it, he waited for her to  speak, still holding a faint spark of hope that she'd agree to his  terms.

"We do have crazy sparks," she said. "But we also have crazy history.  I'm sorry, Nate. There's just too much baggage." She stood up. "I'd  better go to bed. Alone."

And for the second time in so many days, she left him with balls that felt like they were going to explode.





9





Suzie stood in the yacht's saloon and looked up through the companionway  into the cockpit, shading her eyes against the bright sunlight of  another beautiful morning.

Her eyes felt grainy because she hadn't slept well. Most of the night  she'd spent berating herself for being too damn proud to take Nate up on  his invitation. Hadn't she wished for a no-strings holiday romance to  help her unwind? So why had she turned down a gorgeous man offering  exactly that?

Nate was in the cockpit working on the electrics, concentrating so  intently that he hadn't noticed her yet. He was wearing shorts and a  t-shirt that molded to his body. Unfair. How could he look so good this  early when she still felt rough from sleep? She ran her hand  self-consciously through her curls, but there was no taming them.

She'd probably been right to turn him down. He was too much like Laura:  so smart and successful it made her feel useless in comparison. But did  he have to be so tempting? He'd been hard to resist when she thought he  was a jerk, but last night, when he'd told her he couldn't stop thinking  about kissing her? She'd come within a whisker of letting her pride  drop away, along with her clothes.

Nate lifted his head and gave her his crooked smile, which crinkled his  eyes and turned his handsome face irresistible. "Morning, beautiful."

She swallowed, trying again to smooth her hair. "Is there any coffee?"

"Only instant. I would have made you a cup, but I didn't want to wake you. You look adorable when you sleep."

"You came into my bedroom while I was asleep?" Please, by all that was holy, let her not have been snoring.

"When you say it like that, it sounds creepy." He grinned, not looking  the least bit shame-faced. "Are you going to make coffee now? Want me to  show you how?"

Her back stiffened. "Thanks. I've got it." Did he really think she was so dumb she'd need instructions for coffee?

But when she went into the yacht's tiny galley, she realized why he'd  asked. The kettle was the kind that boiled on the stove, and when she  tried to fill it from the faucet, no water came out. Eventually she  figured out the foot pump would give her a weak dribble of water. She  filled the jug, then pressed the ignition switch to light the stove.  Nothing happened. Dammit.

"How do I get the element to work?" she called up to Nate.

"Everything's off at the switchboard to save the battery," he called  back. "The elements are gas, so you only need to turn on the power for  long enough to light them, then turn it off again. Until I get the  engine started, we need to use it sparingly."

"Where's the switchboard?"

"The door above the radio."

She'd assumed that was just another cupboard, but when she pulled it  open she found a board of electrical switches, all carefully labeled.  She switched on the one that read ‘stove' while she lit the element.

"You want a coffee?" she asked.

"If you make mine an iced mocha." His head appeared in the cockpit door a moment later so he could flash her his crooked grin.

She rolled her eyes at him and made two strong black coffees. When she took them up to the cockpit, he nodded his thanks.

"There's a packet of breakfast cereal in the cupboard," he told her. "But there's no milk and chewing on it dry doesn't appeal."

"Try pouring orange juice onto it. There's some left over from yesterday's lunch basket."

"Juice?" he repeated doubtfully.

She shrugged. "Any progress?" She nodded to the exposed wires on the dashboard.

"I found another fried circuit, but I'm fairly sure I can wire around it."

"Fairly sure? Did you call for help?"

He grunted in a way that told her he hadn't. "It's still early."

"And we can sail to Port Denarau if you can't get the engine going?" She  glanced up at the mast and frowned. There was barely enough wind to  lift one of her curls.         

     



 

He took a sip of his coffee. "Sailing's no good. To run my test I need engine power."

She stared at him in disbelief. "The new flight I'm booked on leaves  tonight." Forget his software, she had to get home. Surely she'd made  that clear?

"We have plenty of time. I can fix the engine and get you there."

"How can you be so sure?" There was a small boat lashed to the deck with  a cover over it. She nodded to it. "If we put that dinghy in the water,  I could drive it to Denarau."

"I think on a yacht this size you'd call it a tender, not a dinghy."

She shot him a narrow-eyed look. "All I care about is whether it would get me where I want to go."

"Its outboard motor wouldn't hold enough gas to get you even halfway  there. Besides, what would you do when you arrived? Leave Dalton's  tender tied up to a mooring for anybody to steal?"

Couldn't he come up with solutions instead of tearing down her suggestions? "Then radio for help."

"Listen, I've got this. I'm on the clock too, remember? And once I have  the engine working, I can do my tests and drop you off." He frowned at  the wires. "And if I don't manage to get it started by this afternoon,  I'll radio the Coast Guard and ask them to tow us to the mainland. How's  that?"