Island for Two: Hawaii MagicFiji Fantasy Page 12

  If she turned her head right, she was staring out into the Poseidon Bay; if she turned her head left, she was in a hotel. She chuckled to herself at the sheer wonder of it all and, although her unexpected outburst had drawn the eyes of other passengers to her, she didn’t care. Connie knew that if she had to go right back up in the elevator and leave the island today, she would still consider it a trip well made.

  Several hours later, she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her suite staring at the woman looking back at her. It had to be the island, she decided. She looked different. She felt different. She was different.

  It was almost as if, with every mile they flew farther from Connecticut, she was transforming into the beautiful, confident woman who stood before her. Free.

  There was that word again, she thought. Whenever she tried to find the word to describe how she felt it was free. Did that mean when she was at home, she was shackled in some way?

  She shook off the morbid thought, and focused on the image before her. Connie had always known what colors and clothes best accented her features, despite the fact that she typically never used the knowledge. But now, looking at the end result…she was stunned by how unfamiliar she felt to herself. Unfamiliar but great.

  She picked up her small clutch purse and headed to the door. The hotel concierge had given her the name of a popular nightclub and now she was heading there. So far, she had not had a single regret regarding her trip. She could only hope that by morning she still felt the same.

  * * *

  He noticed her the moment she entered the club. It was hard not to. Michael imagined the scene before him must’ve been something like watching Cleopatra enter her temple. Every eye in the place turned and followed her descent down the spiral stairs and across the crowded room.

  Dressed in a little midthigh black sequin number that clung to her hourglass figure as if painted on, her auburn tresses were pinned up at the back of her head in some type of complicated arrangement, but all Michael could think about was how it would look hanging down around her shoulders. With her hair up, it revealed the halter top of her dress tied in a perfect bow behind her neck and brought to mind exactly what she looked like. A gift dropped from heaven. Her elegantly shaped legs were encased in fishnet stockings and shiny black stilettos. She wore a thin gold chain with some type of charm dangling from it, stud diamond earrings and carried a small black bag. The rest was all flawless copper-gold skin. She was stylish yet understated. A combination Michael had seen few women manage to pull off. She wasn’t a tall or imposing woman, yet there was something quite striking in her appearance.

  She was beautiful, but it wasn’t just her physical beauty that caught his attention, it was her confidence. It wasn’t vanity…exactly. Just assurance of her worth.

  The lights flashed, the music blared, bodies bounced around her and yet she walked with all the urgency of someone taking a morning stroll through a park. She had her pick of the men and knew it. Her eyes darted from one hopeful soul to another, often accompanied by a soft come-hither smile. She was deciding, debating, and Michael rose from his seat, fully intending to enter the competition before she made up her mind.

  He’d been on the island for two days, and during that time his mind had been completely occupied with his new job. The lovely lady coming toward him had done what seemed impossible. She’d taken his mind off his troubles, and he wasn’t about to watch her walk out of the club on the arm of another man.

  Quickly he worked his way through the crowd at a forty-five-degree angle to her, intending to cut her off. Being one of the tallest men in the room had its advantages as he was able to keep her in his sights the entire time.

  She stopped and so did Michael, feeling his heart quicken as she turned and looked up into the hungry eyes of the man swaying gently next to her. He had the appearance of a local, with his Polynesian good looks, and long dark hair. Michael felt his eyes narrowing, and fought down some primal desire to pounce on the man for daring to look at his Cleopatra with such blatant sexual desire. Managing to suppress the unexpected emotion, he continued to move across the floor until he was standing at her other side.

  The couple beside him was still locked in some kind of unspoken connection. The local was patiently waiting for the beautiful woman to give him some sign of acceptance, she was still deciding.

  Michael touched her hand and, as expected, her eyes turned toward him. They were light, even in the dark club he could see a translucent quality to them. A dark eyebrow arched in silent offense of his forwardness and Michael couldn’t help but smile. His Cleopatra comparison seemed more apt than ever.

  “Good evening.”

  The other eyebrow went up. “Do I know you?”

  His smile turned to a grin. “Would you like to?” He glanced at the local, who was now giving him a hard glare.

  He couldn’t care less, the beauty’s attention was now on him and he planned to keep it that way. She took him in with one thorough glance and since she didn’t immediately turn back to the local, Michael assumed he’d passed inspection.

  He leaned forward slightly, just close enough to whisper in her ear. “I’m Michael, by the way.”

  She glanced back at the local and then to Michael again before answering. “Contessa.”

  Michael felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest as he watched the local turn toward another woman dancing beside him. Apparently, the man realized—just as Michael had—that she’d made her choice.

  He knew he was taking a chance, but some instinct guided him to lift her hand to his lips and place a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Nice to meet you, Contessa. Can I buy you a drink?”

  To his surprise, she pulled her hand from his, but instead of stepping back, she stepped forward and placed both arms around his neck. “I’d rather dance.”

  Michael couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “Your wish is my command.”

  He turned slightly, pulling her close against his body and was pleased to realize one of his favorite songs was playing, Cee Lo’s “Bright Lights Bigger City.”

  As her soft, warm body moved against his, Michael was amazed by how right she felt in his arms. The top of her head was right beneath his chin in her spiky heels. It was as if she was made to be held by him and it took every ounce of his strength not to move in closer to her body, to feel more of her pressed against him, to give in to all the recurring primal urges this woman seemed to bring out in him.

  He felt her arms tightened around his neck, but he tried to maintain the little distance between them, afraid that if she realized how quickly his body was reacting to her closeness, it would scare her off.

  He inhaled deeply trying to identify her fragrance, but it eluded him. It was faintly familiar, but he had a feeling her own natural scent was mixing with the perfume to create the uniquely intoxicating blend.

  Her slender arms tightened around his neck as her body moved against his. Her shapely hips gyrated back and forth and as if hypnotized by the erotic motion, his large hands floated down until they held her between them.

  He glanced back at her face to realize her eyes were closed and she was apparently lost in the music. Somehow in the past few minutes, as she so sensually savored the music, she had become even more beautiful than the woman that had first entered the club.

  It was taking every bit of decency Michael possessed to resist what was seemingly offered. But somehow he managed to hold the distance between them. The lyrics seeped into his mind and nudged him forward.

  He swallowed hard, as his large hands gently squeezed the soft flesh between his palms. She was so soft and perfectly round in all the places a woman should be. His mind could not resist imaging what the copper skin would look like against his white sheets. Imaging her perfect body beneath his. Imaging her gyrating hips moving for a totally different reason.

  They
were surrounded by people and yet she was all that he was aware of. Her scent wafted around them, her soft body cradled against his. Contessa.

  Michael knew she was unlike any woman he’d met in a long time. There was something so genuine and free-spirited about her. He knew where this evening was going to end, and so did she. There were no games being played, no deliberate teasing. She was a woman fully in control of her sexuality. She knew what she wanted and how to get it. She’d come here tonight looking for a bed partner and fully intended to leave with one. Michael had every intention of being that man.

  Throwing up her arms in the air, she twisted out of his reach, so caught up in the music he was not even sure she was aware that almost every man in the place had stopped to watch her dance. Michael couldn’t do anything about them watching. Hell, he couldn’t fault them, either. But he already knew if any of them made a move on her, someone was going to get hurt.

  Just as the song ended, she spun back around to him and her beautiful face spread in a wide smile. A thin sheen of sweat covered her body, making her look even more radiant. Michael knew he had to have her.

  He took her hand again and asked, “How about that drink?” Fighting down his secret fear that he was only the first of many dances that night.

  Her head tilted to the side as she seemed to consider it. It was the longest ten seconds of his life, but finally she smiled and nodded. “I guess I’m a little thirsty.”

  He stepped to the side allowing her to lead the way to the bar, and tried very hard to get his mind on drinks and off the oh-so-slowly-swaying backside in front of him. The woman was wrecking havoc on the iron-clad control he had until now taken great pride in.

  He settled on a bar stool beside her.

  “What are you having?” The bartender, a burly guy who—Michael knew from watching him throughout the night—despite his size, had the hands of a surgeon.

  “Sex on the Beach?” he asked Contessa.

  She shook her head. “I’m allergic to cranberries. Just a Manhattan.”

  “Two Manhattans.”

  As the bartender walked away, he turned on his stool. “So, Contessa, where are you from?”

  She smiled knowingly. “Here and there. And you?”

  “Connecticut.”

  Michael thought he saw her eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then it was gone before he could decide if it were real or imagined.

  She leaned toward him and, in the lights of the bar, he could finally see the true color of her almond-shaped eyes—hazel-gold. They focused intently on his face, and Michael was stunned to realize she was even more lovely up close.

  “Do you believe in fate, Michael?”

  He almost smiled, believing she was joking, but something about the seriousness of her expression held him back. “I’m not sure.”

  “I do,” she whispered, and the brief smile of a private joke flashed across her face before she sat back on her stool. “We all have a part to play in this strange thing called life. We all have our roles.”

  Michael’s eyes widened, wondering if maybe this was not the first bar she’d been in that night. She was starting to sound as if she’d already had a couple drinks.

  Just then the bartender set the Manhattans on the counter in front of them.

  “I hate these things.” Michael fished out the maraschino cherry and placed it on the napkin beside his drink, then took a sip. “So, what is your role?”

  She smiled again and Michael realized he really could get addicted to those smiles. “Actually, I was wondering the same thing about you.” She took a sip of her drink and very deliberately set it down, before reaching over to place her small hand on his thigh. “Are you a dream fulfiller, Michael?”

  He caught himself just before his eyes drifted down to her cleavage, which was swelling over the top of her dress ever so nicely. “Depends on the dream?”

  “Well…” Her hand slowly inched up his thigh, and Michael steeled himself against the urge to pick her up, sling her over his shoulder and carry her out of the place. What was it about this woman that gave him such crazy thoughts?

  “I had this dream of having one wildly passionate night with a stranger.”

  Whoa. There it was. No game playing with this one. He took another sip of his drink and wondered if maybe he was the one dreaming. He looked up until his eyes met hers. “I think I can fulfill that dream, Contessa.” He smiled.

  She frowned. “You think?”

  His smile faded slightly. What the hell did she want, a written guarantee? “I know I can.”

  She tilted her head to the side and studied him, then smiled that beautiful smile of hers. “I think you can, too.” Still, he watched as her attention returned to the dance floor.

  Hell, no. Michael instantly stood from his stool and stepped forward until he was standing next to her stool. Using his index finger, he lifted her chin until she was once again completely focused on him. Slowly, so as not to startle her, he lowered his lips until they touched hers.

  It was a gentle kiss at first but, once he had a taste of her, he deepened it, needing to taste more. He could taste the drink on her lips but also her own unique flavor. Her soft, warm lips yielded beneath his, beckoning him in.

  Her lips parted and his tongue slid inside her mouth like a hot knife through butter. At some point, he’d wrapped his arms around her small waist and pulled her up off her stool against his body. And now, the feel of her lining up against him shoulder to hip, combined with the intoxicating flavor of her kiss, was making him want more than he could possibly have in their current location.

  She wasn’t making matters any better, running her small hands through his curly hair the way she was. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Quickly taking some bills from his wallet, he threw them on the counter before taking her hand. He started pushing his way through the crowded dance floor but, during their time at the bar, more people had swarmed in and the club was twice as crowded as it had been just an hour before.

  Michael just burrowed his way through them, opening a path for Contessa to follow. He was determined not to lose this beautiful angel in the crush of bodies surrounding them.

  He tightly grasped her small hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. That primitive urging surfaced again, telling him to make sure he held on to her, and never let go.

  Chapter 3

  The night air against her heated skin was like a splash of water in the face. Connie took a deep breath and wondered what the hell was she doing? This man was a total stranger, she knew nothing about him and yet every instinct in her was comforted by his strong presence. Just as she’d allowed him to lead her out of the club with no resistance, somehow, she knew this was the man she’d come to Fiji looking for.

  Lord knew he met her physical requirements. The man was gorgeous on steroids! If she’d been allowed to create a dream lover, she wasn’t sure she could’ve come up with anything this good.

  He was perfect, everything from the chiseled features of his dark face to his impressive build. His eyes were dark brown, deep brown, but still…kind.

  His lips were slightly pouted, but not full to the point of looking feminine. There was nothing feminine about this man. Her eyes took in his lean, hard body once again. Nope, nothing at all.

  And then there was his smell. Of all the things Connie thought attracted her to a man, she would’ve listed smell on the bottom of that list. But his smell was wonderful. Clean, masculine and yet so erotic it excited her as nothing else had.

  She knew he thought it was the touch of his skin on hers that made her turn his way, when in fact it was his scent. The moment he came into her range, she had became some kind of animal sniffing the air for the scent of its mate. It was a bit embarrassing when she thought about it, b
ut truly it was his wonderful smell that made her so forward, so fast.

  She’d plan to take it slow, to spend the evening meeting various men and then make her decision tomorrow, but instead here she was following a man she’d met less than thirty minutes ago back to…

  “Damn.” Suddenly he stopped, and Connie just avoided colliding into his broad back. He turned toward her and taking her face between his hands, lowered his lips to hers. Connie clutched his silk shirt, feeling his hard abs beneath her fingers and focused on the erotic sensations floating through her body. The man kissed like an angel.

  He was all warm heat and sweetness. His touch, his taste, his smell were all combining into some kind of addictive formula that she suddenly could not get enough of.

  She felt his large hands sliding over her body, touching, stroking and all she wanted to do was turn into his hands, so he could touch more of her. She was suddenly craving him with an intensity that left her breathless. His mouth left hers, but she gasped when she felt his hot breath on her neck, her chin, behind her ear. She shivered with a desire that had apparently been so repressed and suppressed she had not realized it even existed.

  The last tiny bit of sanity she had seemed to flee her as she tugged at his shirt, pulling it from his slacks, needing to feel his skin against hers.

  Thankfully, he seemed to still be thinking. Because he gently pushed her back, and taking her hand once again dragged her along behind him.

  She frowned slightly as they reached the parking lot, but continued on. “Where are we going?”

  “My yacht is docked off the pier over there.” He gestured farther down where several boats were lined.

  “Your yacht?”

  He stopped suddenly again and, turning to her, lifted her up in his arms. It happened so suddenly, Connie had to clutch his shoulders to regain her equilibrium.