CHAPTER 8

LIT WITH tiki torches, Kyra thought the poolside restaurant resembled a fairy garden. Either that, or a nighttime scene from an old episode of Fantasy Island. She stifled a giggle. All in all, she’d take Mr. Roarke over fairies any day.

Unless the fairy was the wishing kind. Right now, she had about a dozen wishes zipping through her head, not the least of which was the wish that she knew the identity of her mysterious lover. The problem with anonymous encounters, it seemed, was the difficulty in tracking your date down for a repeat performance.

Of course, she really didn’t want to know his identity, had made a studied effort not to try and compare his body to any of the men she saw at the resort. Anonymous was safe. She wasn’t sure her heart could stand it if she had to walk away from a man she knew. For half a second, an image of Tony popped into her head, but she pushed it firmly away. She had no business thinking those kinds of thoughts about him. No business at all.

“You look like a woman who needs a drink.” C.J. sidled up and nodded toward the bar. “Can I buy you a beer?”

She pulled herself out of her funk and smiled at him. “I promised myself I was only going to drink exotic-sounding fruity rum drinks.”

“We can probably manage that.”

She followed him to the bar, set up in a thatched-roof open hut, and watched while he ordered a draft beer and a Razzmatazz.

The bartender dumped some fruit, some ice, and quite a bit of alcohol into the blender, then slid a deep purple concoction in front of her. She eyed it dubiously. “Just what exactly is this?”

C.J. glanced at the bartender. “Kevin?”

“Secret recipe. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

C.J. shook his head. “That’s okay. Merrilee frowns on doing away with the guests.” He nodded toward the drink. “Feeling adventurous?”

“Funny you should put it that way.” She stuck a tentative finger into the liquid and took a quick taste. So far so good, and so she took a sip through the curlicue straw, pleasantly surprised by the sweet and tangy sensation.

She flashed Kevin a smile. “It’s wonderful.”

“Well, yeah. I don’t go around killing guests for just any secret recipe.”

She laughed, warming up to the party atmosphere. “Good plan.”

C.J. took her elbow and steered her to a table by the pool. Underwater lights, colored for the occasion, had transformed it into something magical. Not that she really needed the lights. That afternoon she’d found her own bit of magic in the pool. She had so few close friends, and meeting a guy like Tony…well, that counted as something special.

“Penny for your thoughts,” C.J. said.

She smiled, sheepish. “Sorry. Wandering mind.”

He chuckled. “No, I’m sorry, using an old cliché like that on you. But you look like a woman with a lot to think about.”

“I thought I looked like a woman who could use a drink.”

“Like I said…”

They laughed, but in the end she nodded. “I was thinking about Tony.”

C.J.’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, another island romance brewing? I thought you two kids might hit it off.”

“No, no.” Her cheeks burned hot. She was uncomfortable thinking about romance and Tony in the same breath. Tony was her friend, hopefully, Michael was her lover. If she could just keep her feelings locked in their appropriate little cubbyholes, she’d do just fine.

Clearing her throat, she looked back up at C.J. “I mean, yes, we hit it off. But it’s not a romance at all. We’re just friends.”

He looked dubious. “I thought you found the boy attractive. What did you say? Something about him being rugged?”

“I said that his scar wasn’t that big a deal.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

She blinked. “Yes or no, what?”

“That you think the boy’s good-looking.” He held his beer bottle up in mock salute. “You need to stick with the program, young lady.”

Pushing her hair out of her face—barrettes, she needed to remember those stupid barrettes—she leaned over for yet another sip of her Razz-ma-something-or-other. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

“Pretty and smart. A woman to be reckoned with.”

She laughed and took another sip of her drink. If she couldn’t be with Tony or Michael, she was delighted to be passing the evening with this man who reminded her so much of her father before his health really started to go downhill.

Fortified by one more pull on the straw, she swallowed and leaned forward. “The truth is, I do think he’s awfully good-looking. He’s got the most fabulous golden-brown eyes, and this dangerous, roguish quality about him.” She frowned. “Except he’s not really a rogue at all. I think he just seems that way because he’s always wearing sunglasses and sticking to the shadows.”

“You’ve been thinking a lot about him.”

“Not that much.” In truth, she had. But why not? He was her new island buddy. “Besides, we’re friends. Aren’t I allowed to psychoanalyze my friends?”

“Didn’t I say you two would get along?”

She nodded, liking the way the word felt in her head. Friends. She liked the way Tony filled that role.

“Yeah,” she said. “We get along great.” She grinned. “Guess you’re psychic.”

* * *

C.J. TOOK the last swallow of his beer, pleased that the two kids had hooked up. “No, if I were psychic, I’d know where your friend was.” And he’d know why Tony’d left such a pretty young woman to fend for herself.

“Well, I know where he is.” She leaned forward too quickly and almost lost her balance. C.J. put out a steadying hand. “He’s hiding in his cabana away from the crowds.”

“Leaving you all alone? Not very chivalrous.”

“I’m not alone. You’re here.” One more sip, then she moved closer, urging him to lean in as if for a secret. “And I’m hoping someone else comes along, too.”

Someone else? He had a sinking feeling his fledgling matchmaking efforts weren’t taking.

“Michael,” she whispered.

“The mysterious fellow I’ve heard about? The one at night?”

Kyra nodded, looking like the cat who’d swallowed the canary. “He’s part of my adventure. Or he was.” She squinted, then glanced around the pool area. “I was kind of hoping he would be again.” She licked her lips. “Actually, I’m a little nervous about it, too.”

He looked at her near-empty glass. “No kidding.”

Well, he’d tried. Too bad for Tony the pairing of men and women wasn’t C.J.’s cup of tea. At least he’d given it a shot.

“Merrilee!” Kyra stood up, a bit wobbly, and waved across the pool deck.

Her call reminded C.J. that he hoped to have better luck matchmaking when he was the man in question. Then Kyra’s words stuck home. Merrilee.

Slowly he looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, there she was. Just like always, she took his breath away. She’d been trying to corner him for days now, making appointments that he’d conveniently forgotten, visiting him at the dock so that he had to sneak away just to avoid her.

He really didn’t want to avoid her anymore.

No, what he wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss away the years. But now wasn’t the time. Soon he’d tell her everything, and she’d know why her secret admirer seemed to know so many of her secrets.

He hoped she’d be thrilled, ecstatic. Hoped she’d slip into his arms and the years would just disappear.

But he didn’t know for sure, and that tiny bit of fear kept holding him back. Soon, though. When the time was right, he’d tell her.

Kyra waved again. “She’s not looking this way. I don’t think she heard me.” She cocked her head, eyeing him. “Too bad, too. She said last night she was looking for you.”

“That is too bad.” He tugged at the collar of his T-shirt. “You know, I need to run check something in the office.” He slid his empty bottle onto the counter. “I’ll be right back.”

“But Merrilee, she’s—”

He patted her on the shoulder and slipped away into the crowd, considering himself lucky he’d managed to avoid her one more time. But it couldn’t go on forever. Sooner or later, they’d have to meet. And sooner or later, he’d have to tell her the truth.

He thought of the heart-shaped ruby necklace he’d hidden in his flight bag. Just a few more gifts. A few more, and then he’d fortify his courage and go have a talk with the woman he loved.

Carefully, so as not to attract Merrilee’s attention, he slipped behind a stand of potted palms and ran smack into Tony.

“Lord have mercy, you scared the devil out of me.”

“Sorry.” Tony stepped backward, slipping further into the shadows. “Trying to avoid Merrilee?”

“Eavesdropping’s a bad habit, son.”

“I’ve got a lot of bad habits.”

The kid tilted his head, one green eye boring into C.J. “Didn’t I see you outside of Merrilee’s cabin the other night?” He grinned, then leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. “C.J., old man, have you got a thing going with the boss?”

C.J. took an involuntary step backward. He’d left a wreath of roses along with a bottle of White Shoulders perfume on her bed. The last thing in the world he imagined was that he’d been seen. “Don’t be absurd. There’s nothing going on. I was just in the area,” he lied.

“Uh-huh.” Tony didn’t look convinced. “What were you telling me about going after Kyra? It was good advice. You sure you’re not taking it yourself?”

“I never noticed your eyes are different colors,” C.J. said, hoping to change the subject.

The kid shifted, pulling the cap he wore down lower. “Just a trick of the light,” he said.

C.J. wasn’t convinced. In fact, for the first time, he noticed that, slicked back, Tony’s hair seemed darker. And the boy was in desperate need of a shave. Something tickled the back of his memory, and he tried unsuccessfully to grab on to it. “Kyra’s over there,” he said. “I think she’d love to see you.”

“And I think you’re changing the subject.” The kid leaned against the planter. “You’ve got a secret, old man. When are you going to tell her?”

C.J. exhaled. He knew when he was beat. “The time’s not right. Not yet.” He also knew what had been bothering him. The unshaven face. The one green eye. He looked Tony in the eye. “It’s hard knowing when to share secrets, don’t you think?”

“I’ve never given it much thought.”

“No? Maybe you should.”

For a moment, the kid looked startled, but he recovered nicely, and C.J. wondered if Kyra had any clue that her friend and her lover were the same man. Even more, he hoped that finding out wouldn’t kill that light he saw in her eyes when she talked about either one of them. Deception was a tricky game.

He knew. He was risking everything for another chance with Merrilee.

But soon…soon he’d share his secret with the woman he loved.

He only hoped that Tony would, too.

* * *

SECRETS.

The word hung in the air, raw and accusing.

Tony swallowed and took a step backward. “I don’t have any secrets.”

“Uh-huh.” C.J. nodded toward the bar. “Go see the girl, son.”

Tony shook his head, wanting more than anything to go to her, right then. But Tony Moretti wasn’t the man she wanted to see. “I’m not the one she wants to see right now. She’s interested in someone else.” He met C.J.’s eyes. “She’s waiting for someone else.”

C.J. looked him up and down. “I know. She told me exactly who she’s waiting for.” He patted the kid on the shoulder as he moved past him. “Good luck, son. Give my regards to Ms. Cartwright.”

As C.J. moved past him, Tony wondered if C.J. had figured out his secret identity. The possibility didn’t unnerve him too much. After all, the man was part of the staff, so if he did clue in, he’d still be sworn to secrecy. Besides, he knew C.J. liked him; the man wouldn’t rat on Tony.

He grinned. C.J. and Merrilee. He had to admit, they’d make a handsome couple. But Tony had never pictured C.J. as the type to sneak around, wooing a woman by playing the secret admirer. There was a history there, and he wondered what the story was. Even more, he hoped C.J. knew what he was doing. He’d hate to see the pilot lose his chance at happiness with the woman he loved.

He pulled the patch out of the back pocket of his jeans and slipped it on. C.J. was right—it was hard to know when to share a secret. Usually. In Tony’s case, though, the answer was clear—never.

Kyra had a friend in Tony, a lover in Michael, and a fiancé waiting in Texas. And although he was impressed as hell at her commitment to her dad, he wanted to tell her—beg her—to live her life for herself. Maybe he couldn’t be part of that life, but he still wanted her to be happy. And sacrificing herself to a man she didn’t really love out of some sense of familial obligation was a recipe for unhappiness.

But he stayed quiet. He was her friend, not her lover. Not really. And if he kept his mouth shut, after this week, maybe they could stay friends. But if he told her the truth, if he risked her marriage and her future simply to satisfy his own ego… Well, what the hell could he do? He couldn’t help her. Couldn’t save her business, couldn’t cure her father, couldn’t do any damn thing for anybody.

In the end, he’d lose everything. And even more importantly, he’d destroy her fantasy. And Tony wasn’t about to do anything to hurt Kyra. No matter how much doing nothing ripped at his gut.

* * *

HE WASN’T COMING. She should pack it in and head back to her cabana. Hanging around the party was foolish. Fantasy or not, Kyra had no intention of hooking up with any man other than Michael. And if Michael had no interest in her…well, she’d packed a few good romance novels. She’d take a long, hot bath and lose herself in someone else’s fantasy.

“Buy you a drink?”

She turned, ending up face-to-face with Joe from the scuba class.

“Kyra, right?”

She nodded, her feet itching to move her far, far away, but the rest of her succumbing to good, old-fashioned Southern manners. Damn Texas upbringing.

He glanced at her now empty drink. “Hitting the good stuff early, huh? Kevin makes a great Razz.” He lifted two fingers. “Another Razzmatazz for the lady and a shot of tequila with a beer chaser for me.”

She cringed, wondering if she’d taken a wrong turn and ended up at a frat party. “No thanks, really. I’ve had plenty. Just water.”

He sidled closer and slid an arm around her shoulder. “Come on, baby. You spent the entire day with that reject from the sci-fi channel. Spend a little time with me.”

“Get your hands off me,” she said through gritted teeth. She tried to shrug out of his embrace, but he just pulled her closer, leaning down so that she caught the unmistakable stench of far too many tequila shots.

“What’s the matter, baby? Don’t you want to play doctor?”

“Not with you.” She jammed her knee up, catching him where it counts. His arm flew from her shoulder, and his hands flew to his fly, cupping everything he held dear. “Now get the hell away from me.”

Bent at the waist and cursing, he still managed to shoot her a withering look. She held his stare until he finally turned and left. “Jerk,” she whispered under her breath.

“You’re going to put me out of a job.”

The low, smooth voice teased her senses, bringing her back to life. She hadn’t even realized the sadness she’d felt until his voice washed it away, and she whirled around, sure she was smiling broader than a kid at Christmas.

“How am I supposed to keep up my rep as a chivalrous knight if the damsels rescue themselves?”

“Michael.” He was right there, right in front of her. Tall and dark and she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and erase the memory of Joe. “I didn’t think you were going to come.” She pressed her lips together, fighting back a ridiculous flood of tears.

The corner of his mouth twitched up, and he brushed the pad of his thumb under her eye. “I wasn’t going to.”

Frowning, she wiped her eyes. “I’m not really crying. It’s just an optical illusion. Stress. That guy. Hormones.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m not really crying. Not really.”

Laughing, he slid an arm around her waist. “I didn’t think you were.”

She leaned in, immediately at home in his arms. She sniffled again. “Why weren’t you going to come?”

He kissed her neck, leading her away from the main pool. “A guy could get attached to a woman like you. And getting attached is the last thing a guy like me needs,” he said. “But then I asked myself what was worse—leaving you at the end of a fantastic week together, or not seeing you again.”

“An attachment is the last thing either of us needs,” she said, trying to drill the truth into her head. She didn’t want or need attachments, strings or emotional involvement. Still, that little voice in her head told her it was too late.

In the end, she’d walk away because she had to—but it was going to hurt like hell.

* * *

“TAKE OFF your clothes.” He kept his voice low, enticing, and very persuasive.

Her eyes widened, and he fought a smile. “We’re in the great outdoors,” she said.

“I noticed that.” He’d steered them away from the party to the smaller pool area on the far side of the main building. “But there’s no one around.”

He suppressed a twinge of guilt. She wanted Michael, and she wouldn’t want him if she knew the truth. Even if she didn’t turn away from his scars, she wanted anonymous. She’d made that very clear their first night.

As Michael, he had the power to make her fantasies come true, and he didn’t intend for Krya to miss out on anything. He might not be the most athletic of lovers, but he could be damn creative. If she wanted sexual adventures, then dammit, that’s exactly what he’d give her. Wild, wicked, erotic adventures. And he intended to have a damn good time doing it.

“Someone might come.”

With a finger hooked under her chin, he tilted her head back, then brushed his lips over hers, supremely satisfied with the way she opened her mouth, inviting his kiss. “That’s certainly my plan,” he said when they broke the kiss.

Her breath hitched. “No… I…uh, meant someone might see us.”

“I know what you meant. But everyone’s at the party. And since this pool’s locked at ten, no one has a reason to come back here.”

She grazed her teeth on her lower lip, and he knew she was intrigued. Good. He wanted her intrigued.

Letting his fingertips graze the top of her ear, he brushed her hair back, then leaned in closer to whisper. “Say yes, sweetheart. Let me make love to you under the stars.”

“There are stars over my cabana, too.” The words were a protest, but the way her eyes darted to the gleaming pool told a different story.

Slowly, he grazed his hand down her hip, over the sexy little skirt she wore. His fingers touched her skin, and he let his hand roam to the inside of her thigh, the hem of her skirt teasing the back of his hand.

“Nice skirt. Very sexy.”

Her breath hitched as she gasped. She tilted her head back, and he trailed kisses down her neck as he slid his hand higher. What he found ripped away his last shred of self-control.

“Oh, man, sweetheart. You’re not wearing panties.”

She swallowed, and he felt the faint movement in her neck against his lips. “I told you I was hoping you’d come.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that.” He stroked her center, thrilled by her slick heat. She moaned, crying out his name until he captured her mouth in a kiss. “You realize you’ve done it now,” he whispered when he pulled his lips away. “Now there’s no way in hell you’re going anywhere else but into that water with me.”

Her hands stroked his back. “That far?”

“Temptress.”

She kissed the tip of his nose, then twirled out of his arms, her skirt flaring and giving him an enticing view. When he caught her eye, she was smiling, her finger crooked.

“Follow me.”

No argument there. He went willingly, a puppy, a slave. The gate was only a few feet tall and easy enough to climb over. On the other side, he eyed the pool, thinking that the cold water was the last thing on earth he needed.

She urged him toward the hot tub, then slipped out of her sandals and stuck her toes in. “It feels wonderful.”

“Get in.”

Without breaking eye contact, she unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the ground, then peeled off her T-shirt until she was standing naked before him in the moonlight. “Whatever you want.” Her smile was seductive and confident, and he wondered just who was seducing whom.

As he watched, she slipped into the water. “What about you?”

“I’m going to find the controls.” He found the control box mounted on the side of the changing rooms, and he turned the jets on, smiling at her delighted squeal when the calm water began to bubble around her.

He shed his clothes in a hurry, desperate to feel her against him, then joined her in the water, sitting on the built-in bench as his body adjusted to the temperature change. Without invitation, she came to him, and he found her easy comfort with him thrilling. She planted her knees on either side of his hips, straddling him, and his body immediately reacted.

He fought the urge to bury himself deep inside her, to lose himself in her heat. Instead, he lifted her up, swinging her around until she faced the side of the tub and he was behind her. The water bubbled around her waist, and he drew his hand up her delicate back.

She moaned, and he grazed his hands down to cup her waist.

“Move over here for me.” With gentle hands, he moved her in front of the pulsing jet, smiling as she squealed softly when what he had in mind became apparent.

“But I want you to touch me.”

He slid his hands around, cupping her breasts, as he pressed her back up against him, his hardness nestled against the soft curve of her thigh. “I am touching you.” Silently, he slid his hands down to her hips, urging her forward, knowing the jet of water would soon make her crazy.

“Oh, Michael, I—”

“Shhh. Just let go. Let the water touch you. Let me touch you.”

With the tip of his finger, he traced a path up her body, finding her erect nipple and teasing it between his thumb and forefinger. She gasped, then moaned, her hips swaying in a rhythm he’d come to know well.

They stayed like that, the water stroking her, his hands caressing her, as her breath came faster and faster, her excitement pulling him closer and closer. Then finally, she cried out and rocked backward into his arms.

He eased her down onto the bench seat, and she lolled against him, her fingers idly drawing a pattern on his thigh. “Nice,” she murmured.

“Sleepy?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“Maybe I should take you to your cabana and put you to bed.”

She turned her face up to look at him, then shook her head just slightly. “Bed? Yes. Sleep? No.” She stroked his cheek. “I’m not through with you quite yet.”

He chuckled. “Whatever you want. I’m here to make your fantasies come true.”