It's in His Kiss Contemporary Romance Box Set Page 9

  “We’ve been at this all day,” he said. “It’s always been obvious that we’re a little mismatched in the size department. Let’s give it a rest, and I’ll wake you in the morning with soft kisses that won’t hurt at all.”

  “Alright,” she said, her lips inches from his, her hands savoring the elegantly carved planes of his body. “I’ll count on that. It seems your kiss is a powerful cure.”

  *

  He was true to his word. She woke in the morning to a real life wet dream, before she’d even opened her eyes. It was the most erotic feeling she’d ever known, the wet heat of his mouth, the perfect pressure of his tongue. The coil of pure pleasure tightening deliciously inside her, then the explosion, the “little death,” as mind-blowing in its ferocity as his love for her. She cried out his name and begged to have him inside her and he plunged into her, happy at last. His life made sense again. With Charlotte wild in love and wild in bed, it was all he needed to be complete.

  “How about an open-air tour of Bali in a vintage Jeep?” he asked, after they’d finished breakfast and she’d slathered on plenty of sunscreen.

  She was a fiend when it came to sunscreen, she’d grown up in the South and all too often she’d seen what the sun could do to perfectly good skin. Her ex was Scandinavian, with white-blonde hair and pale blue eyes, and he’d loved her ‘Southern-belle’ beauty, as he called it. Jet-black hair, deep-sapphire eyes, full pink lips and creamy white skin. She’d been accused of fearing the sun like a vampire, but it was her mother who’d instigated her compulsive addiction to sunscreen and sunhats when Charlotte was just a girl.

  “Absolutely,” she said, slipping into a strappy little sundress and sandals. “Where are we going? Is there actually life outside our luxurious love nest?”

  “There is,” he said, crushing her to him suddenly. “Although I’m not sure I want to share you with the rest of the world. People still recognize you from the magazine cover, and it bothers you. Can you handle it?”

  “That’s right,” she said, looking past him, scenes flashing to life and fading quickly. She was a naive twenty-one year old when the photographs were taken, and they’d set her on a collision course with destiny. A course that led her to fame and to law school and away from Alexander Bly, and then back to him when he became her client. What about her best friends, did they know she was in love with Bly? No way they would approve of him—they didn’t approve of any man she went out with for more than a week. The three of them, Charlotte, Finn, and JP, met people and dated, but they were never serious about anyone. They were a threesome without the sex, they were each other’s family; no one was allowed to come between them.

  “Finn and JP, do they know about us? Do they know we’re together?” she asked, her voice not much more than a whisper.

  “Yes, they know. Charlotte, JP knows we’re here on this island, and Finn… I’m not sure about Finn. Maybe we should talk about that,” Bly said. His fingers drifted through his hair and he was agitated, she could see.

  “No, this was bound to happen, they must have realized that. That one of us would stumble into a relationship and it would get serious. Well, not either of them, with their lives wrapped up in their sacred Special Ops bullshit. But it was inevitable, right? I was ready for love, and there you were at the red light one day, and then you watched while I delivered my closing argument in court the next. Okay, enough nostalgia. Lead me to the Jeep, I want to see all the wonders of Bali.”

  She climbed into the Jeep and they rode along, holding hands, fingers entwined, with the incredible green beauty of the island filling their senses. In Bali green was more than a color, it was alive as it sprouted fresh and new in rice terraces that twisted and sprawled, marching in elegant symmetry up and down the hillsides. It was a cool feeling in the shade of dense stands of mangrove and coconut palms, and the smell of rivers that cut through the forest and meandered beside the road. It was the overwhelming spectacle of uncountable multitudes of flowers covering that small piece of paradise as far as the eye could see.

  “I love it!” Charlotte said, kicking off her sandals and digging her toes into the golden sand once they reached the village of Tanjung Benoa. “What is this, a fishing village? I’ve heard of golden sand, but this really is amazing. It looks like a postcard with the palm trees and the bluer than blue water.”

  “It is a fishing village, and there’s a yacht harbor here. I need to make a quick stop and look at a boat. It’s a boat that’s much like mine, but larger. I’ll probably buy it, because bigger is always better, right? You asked about West, my bodyguard. He’s staying in a hotel here in Benoa, and he’ll meet us on the boat. Just as a precaution, of course.”

  “Oh yeah, you do have a “boat,” don’t you? A boat that’s bigger than any house I’ve ever lived in. It’s strange, you know, the things I remember and those that are still unclear. I think you took advantage of me on that very big boat, or was it the other way around? It was our first time, wasn’t it? Whoa, I just got a mental picture of the two of us in a huge shower, and I must have been feeling pretty bold.” She didn’t resist when he caught her shoulders and pulled her hard against him. There was genuine happiness on his lips and in his eyes as he bent to kiss her. He was tall and powerfully muscled and too fucking hot to resist—good thing they were in love, because everything about him made her body scream for sex. No wonder she’d said screw the California Bar Association and slept with him, even though it was so unlike her. She lived for her career and she’d given up all semblance of a social life to climb the ladder of success. But then Bly had shown up, and her hormones had taken over, and her morals and her life had taken a detour.

  “Now, let’s go see the boat, then we’ll have lunch in the village and shop or whatever,” he said, his lips trailing from her mouth to her neck. “Bali is known for its pearls. You need black pearls, they’ll look stunning against your pale, graceful neck.”

  *

  It was a huge yacht, forty feet longer than the behemoth that Bly owned. Men and their toys, Charlotte thought, and wondered why such extravagance was necessary. West was there, as cold and detached as ever, and he spoke to one of three burly men on deck, then came down to the dock and led Bly and Charlotte on board.

  “Alexander Bly, welcome aboard the Chameleon. I’m Louis Santos. Ah, and you’ve brought the sublimely lovely Charlotte with you. What an unexpected and delightful surprise. I remember you from the magazine cover, and of course from the pages inside. What man in his right mind doesn’t remember, am I right? You were, and are, intriguing to say the least.”

  Louis Santos was tall, thin, and unnervingly slick. There was definitely something reptilian in his manner. Just the way he looked her over like she was a prime piece of meat sent chills up Charlotte’s spine. And when he kissed her hand, he lingered over it until he knew Bly wasn’t watching, then he grazed her palm with his tongue.

  “Why don’t you give us a quick tour of the boat, Louis? We’re anxious to get back to… sight-seeing,” Bly said. He stood behind Charlotte and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder so that they stood cheek to cheek. His stance sent out an unmistakable signal: ‘Hands off, she’s mine’.

  “Fine, I can see how it is. Alright then, a tour. I’d hardly call it a boat—at two hundred seventy feet, the Chameleon is a floating city. In addition to the main rooms there’s a cinema, gym, pool, rooftop spa. You’re standing aboard a world-class luxury yacht, with a crew of thirty and accommodations for thirty-two guests. Mr. Bly, your yacht is two hundred thirty feet, I believe? Well, mine would be bigger then, wouldn’t it?” Louis Santos said, and he looped his arm through Charlotte’s and led her through the overly decorated rooms.

  Bly walked behind them, and when they stopped to admire the grand master bedroom, he gathered Charlotte to him protectively, his hands resting on her narrow waist. “I like the boat, Louis, although the decorating is a bit garish for my taste, and for Charlotte’s as well, I would imagine. It’s r
eally over the top, sort of shouts ‘new money,’ doesn’t it? What is your line of work, anyway? Exports? I’m not sure I want to know what Mexico has to sell that has made you such a rich man,” Bly said, and Charlotte could feel his distaste for this man who’d had the audacity to touch her.

  “Well, we weren’t all born with a silver spoon in our mouth, surely you can comprehend that. I’ve worked my way to the top, and how I managed it is not really something you’d care to hear, believe me. Now, if you want to tour the bridge, the ship’s steward will take you there. I can finish showing Charlotte the staterooms. Hopefully they won’t offend her delicate sensibilities,” Louis said, and Charlotte gave Bly a nod that let him know she would be fine.

  “Alright, West and I will have a quick look, then we’ll meet you on the aft deck for a drink. We can discuss your price for the boat, and then Charlotte and I are looking forward to a pleasant afternoon in the village,” Bly said, and his eyes stayed on Charlotte until he was out of sight.

  Charlotte distanced herself from Louis as soon as Bly and West were gone. She left the bedroom and climbed the grand stairway to the main salon, then settled uneasily onto a chaise lounge. Louis Santos was sleazy, that’s all there was to it. Why the hell had she given Bly the impression she could be left alone with him? On the other hand, she was a strong southern woman, an attorney, for the love of God! She was damn good at kicking ass and taking names from powerful men, and she could deal with this ridiculous jackass.

  “When you have finished your little vacation with Alexander Bly, come with me, Charlotte. I’ll take you places you never dreamed existed. Surely you know he will be tired of you before long. You must admit, he has have a reputation for that. I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know,” he said, pulling a chair up close to her, and leaning in. He made her sick, the lecherous look in his eyes, the insinuating tone of voice, and she could swear he must have doused himself with a half-bottle of cologne. “There’s something beguiling about you, Charlotte—it was there when your nubile young body graced the cover of American Jock. It’s still there, simmering just beneath that very proper, lady-like veneer. It seems to me you’ll grow tired of a man who was born to privilege. You need a man who knows how to get his hands dirty, and I think you would love to get down and dirty with me. I can only imagine what a fine little savage you are in the bedroom. I could make you come so hard you’d never be happy with any other man.”

  “Louis, are you saying these things to me because you think it’s a turn-on, or because you’re a fucking idiot? I’m with Bly and it’s not just casual, we’re in a relationship. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I can spot low-life trash a mile away. You might have crawled out of the gutter, but your mind is still wallowing in it. Bly could buy and sell you with the change in his pocket, and even if that wasn’t true, you aren’t half the man he is, and I mean that in every possible sense of the word.”

  “They say you’re a hell-cat in the courtroom; it seems you are where men are concerned as well. Don’t act so high and mighty, Charlotte. You’re fucking Alexander Bly, that’s easy to see. You’re fucking your client and you have the nerve to look down your nose at me? You’re nothing but a little whore playing at being a lawyer.”

  “I take my career seriously, so Alexander Bly must be pretty incredible for me to risk being disbarred. As his attorney, I’ll advise him not to buy this boat or conduct any business with you whatsoever. And you’d better pray that you never have to deal with me in court, Mr. Santos. I’ve never lost a case and I never intend to. ”

  “Is there a problem?” West asked. He had appeared out of nowhere just as Charlotte grabbed her straw tote-bag and headed out onto the deck.

  “No, no problem at all,” Charlotte said calmly. “Mr. Santos was just confused about who might be interested in what he’s trying to sell. Bly may be interested in this boat, but I wouldn’t have it if he gave it to me. Take a look around, Louis, this place looks like a floating strip club. Tacky doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’m going ashore to do some shopping, West. Tell Bly I’ll wait for him in the village.”

  “You really do think you’re a hot little number, don’t you?” Louis Santos called after her, trying to move past West to make sure she heard him. “Women like you are nothing to Alexander Bly. He has that reputation, you know, fuck them and leave them, he doesn’t know about love. And guess what, beautiful Charlotte? No matter what pretty words he says to you, he doesn’t want to know about love.”

  “Hey, that’s enough, Santos,” West said, shoving him into a deck chair and flashing a menacing look at the three men standing nearby. “I can assure you Mr. Bly won’t be buying your boat, and his personal life is none of your fucking business. As for Charlotte, she’s off-limits, you’d do well to remember that, unless you’d like for me to cut your balls off and hand them to you.”

  *

  What was it with some men? Charlotte wondered. Give them a small taste of power and they used it to manipulate women. Louis Santos brought back memories of Jamey Huang, with his scary good looks and hidden agenda. She had been on the verge of winning the case for Bly International against Huang World Wide Corporation when she’d been abducted. Jamey and his gang of hired thugs had held her for ransom, and the reason had nothing to do with Alexander Bly’s billions—he’d wanted something else. As desperately as she tried, she couldn’t remember what had happened in Hong Kong. Those details were blacked out, just gone, and she realized that was her own fault, because there were some things she didn’t want to know.

  “I’d like to say that you are truly a vision, with the blue sea at your back and your dark hair blowing in the breeze. But the look in your eyes says I should stay quiet and walk on by.”

  Charlotte shielded her eyes from the sun as she turned to look up at him. She was standing on a cobbled street at the edge of the village, lost in thought. The man who spoke was incredibly handsome, and his eyes were filled with mischief as he smiled down at her. The thought flashed through her mind that handsome wasn’t an appropriate word to describe him, beautiful was more like it. She was tall, but he towered over her, and the muscles of his arms and chest strained the pale blue linen shirt that he wore. His hair was jet-black and his eyes were a deep, sparkling Mediterranean blue, like her own.

  Other than when she glanced in the mirror, she’d never seen a set of eyes exactly that color. Her own mother had pale blue eyes and lighter hair, and Charlotte had asked time and again why they looked so different. When Charlotte was a little girl with long black hair, pale skin, and those electric blue eyes, the kids at school called her Snow White or told her she looked like a wild, heathen witch.

  “You have your father’s looks,” her mother said every time she asked, but that was all she would say about the man Charlotte had never met. “He was like a knight in shining armor, or a real lady-killer,” her mother would say as she gave her beloved daughter a quick kiss, “depending on how you care to look at it. We had a summer romance, then he rode off into the sunset. But he left me with a wonderful gift to remember him by… you, my little beauty.”

  Charlotte looked up through her thick, dark lashes at the blue eyed, black haired young man and wondered if his father had been a real lady-killer, as well. The top buttons of his linen shirt were unfastened so that it fluttered open in the breeze, and she caught a glimpse of large tattoo across his chest. It was an unfurled banner that said “Blessed” and Charlotte wanted to ask about it. Her best friends, Finn and JP, had been Navy SEALs, and they had a few bizarre tattoos. Finn said his tattoos told stories of covert missions he had survived, private wars he and other men like him fought on foreign soil, risking their lives to keep America safe.

  “I feel like I’ve met you before, and no, that’s not a pick-up line,” he said, gesturing to an empty table at a sidewalk oyster bar. “I’m Christopher, and I’m not dangerous so you don’t have to worry. I’m a pilot—a Naval aviator, actually. I had a few days to kill, and Bali
is an extraordinary place to do just that.”

  “I’m Charlotte,” she said, sliding into a metal chair and trying not to blatantly stare, but he was so unnervingly attractive she couldn’t help herself. “Great tattoo. It reminds me of my two best friends, they’re in Special Forces and we were roommates in law school. I’m not sure where they are right now, and I should know. We’re like family, we watch out for each other…”

  “So you’re a lawyer and you lived with two men who are SEALs. That’s not a situation you hear about on an average day.” He laughed and reached across the table for her hand.

  She felt a jolt of either electricity or pure adrenaline as soon as the tips of their fingers touched, and by the look on his face, she knew he felt it, too.

  “Wow! Static, possibly? Maybe there’s a storm brewing out over the sea,” he said when she jerked her hand away, and he sat across from her trying to think why she looked so familiar.

  “Am I interrupting, or do you mind if I join you?” Bly stood above them, and the hard edge of his voice matched the look on his face.

  “Not at all. You must be the husband,” Christopher said, standing to leave. “I was telling your wife it seems that we should know each other, but I suppose not.”

  “It’s the eyes,” Bly said before he could stop himself. He hadn’t meant to speak a kind word to a man who was leaning across the table intimately talking to Charlotte. “And the black hair. The two of could be brother and sister, but Charlotte’s an only child. She’s one of kind, in fact.”

  “Yeah, me too. No brothers or sisters that I know of. Well, enjoy your time on the island,” he said, and before Charlotte could even suggest that they have a picture taken together, he was gone.

  “I don’t know why I said that—he was obviously trying to pick you up. You must have noticed how he was looking at you,” Bly said. He sat down and ordered a vodka tonic for Charlotte and a vodka straight for himself.

  “No, I don’t think he was trying to pick me up and I can order my own damn drink, thank you very much,” Charlotte hissed. She was suddenly fuming. First that creep Louis Santos was all over her, and now Bly was acting liked a spurned lover. “You’re pissed off that a nice Navy pilot said maybe a dozen words to me, when that Neanderthal with the boat basically told me to ditch your ass and sail away with him? Well guess what? I can’t control which men decide to strike up a conversation with me. And didn’t you tell me a few hours ago that sometimes I’m recognized from that freaking magazine article that I regret ever having done? The infamous pictorial in a magazine that you own?”