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Now was not the time to be thinking about sex. He never fucked the subjects of his interviews. Well, not after that one time. Too messy and could lead to involvement. Or the loss of a really great story, like what had happened when he'd made the mistake of having a mattress summit with a senator's daughter. After that disaster, he swore never again to mix pleasure in with his business.
Although he could easily imagine getting horizontal with Morgan Brown, he knew that would never happen. He'd lost almost everything by getting involved with a subject once before. Never again. Fuck 'em and leave 'em, that was his motto.
For a guy whose livelihood required traipsing around the world, commitment wasn't in his vocabulary. He needed to switch his focus from Morgan Brown's backside to what secrets he could unearth during his week-long stay at this supposed erotic paradise. If he was lucky, he'd not only get the interview for the travel magazine, he'd also dig up some dirt on her that maybe the tabloids might be interested in buying.
Nobody who owned and operated a place like this had a lily-white reputation. He'd bet a million she had some major skeletons in her closet.
He followed her up the stairs, noticing the white swing suspended from the rafters of the expansive front porch. Hanging potted plants filled with purple tropical flowers danced in the breeze. Visions of Morgan sipping a cool drink while lounging on that swing in nothing but a bikini momentarily distracted him.
His attention went on full alert when he stepped through the front door. A white, fluffy thing pounced on his tennis shoe and immediately scurried off behind a rattan sofa.
"What the hell was that?" he asked.
"That's Phoebe, my cat," Morgan explained. "You've just been officially attack-greeted."
"For a second there I thought you had big white rat problems."
She laughed, and his heart thudded against his chest. Damn, but she had one sexy laugh. A little on the raspy side, the kind a man would want to hear in bed. And why did it seem that her laugh was a little rusty? Like maybe she didn't do it too often?
He shook his head, wondering why that thought popped into his head. Further, why he would even care whether she laughed or not.
Morgan led him down the hall and pointed to two rooms.
"Take your pick," she said. "Both have views of the pool and the one on the far left also has a view of the ocean."
He chose the one with the double view. He threw his bag down on the king-sized bed and stepped out onto a small veranda, admiring the breathtaking scenery. The rectangular in-ground pool was surrounded by palm trees and tropical flowers. Beyond the pool was a sandy beach and miles of ocean. Looked like a damn postcard picture.
No wonder Morgan liked living here. Who the hell wouldn't want paradise in their own back yard?
"Nice place," he said, sensing her behind him.
"Thank you. I like it."
He turned to her, watching as the wind blew stray strands of fiery red hair into her face. Without thinking, he reached out to brush it off her face and she backed up a step.
Whoa. The lady did not like to be touched.
"Let me show you the rest of the house," she said, seemingly calm and composed as she turned and left the veranda.
But for that brief second, Tony glimpsed fear in her eyes. When he'd reached a hand out, she'd paled and practically jumped away from him.
Why? What scared her about his movement? She certainly couldn't be afraid of him. She'd just invited him to stay at her house, which by the looks of things was smack dab in the middle of fucking nowhere.
Determined to delve deeper into Morgan's history, he followed her down the hall.
The house had a huge kitchen. Lots of windows, white tile and matching cabinets brightened the room. An island sat in the middle of the kitchen, a bowl of fresh fruit centering the countertop. It sure didn't look anything like his apartment in New York. Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually stayed in his apartment. Hotels were his home. Sometimes tents in the jungle. Anywhere there was a story.
"Something to drink?" she asked, peeking into the refrigerator.
Tony admired the view as she bent over to reach for something, her ass outlined against the silky material of her dress. Visions of him sliding the dress up her thighs and plunging his cock between those full cheeks hardened him in an instant.
When she turned, her eyes drifted over him and settled on his crotch.
Shit. He felt like a grade school kid who'd just got caught with his first boner in front of the pretty young teacher. Not like he could hide it now.
"I'd love some," he blurted, meaning the jug of iced tea she held in her hand, but knowing it had come out like he wanted some of her.
Well, dammit, that was true, too. He did want some of her. His penis pressed painfully against his now tight jeans, begging for release.
"Some tea, you mean?" she asked, licking her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue.
He followed the movements of her tongue and shifted, stepping behind the center island to hide his erection. "Yeah. Tea."
She turned away quickly, but not before he caught the slight smirk that lifted the corners of her lips.
This was going to be one miserably long week.
Chapter Two
Morgan tried to hide her grin behind the pitcher of tea. It wasn't like Tony was the first guy to sprout an erection in front of her. She'd seen more than most women would in a lifetime.
She'd also suffered more pain and humiliation than most of them ever would. Which was why, no matter how dark and good-looking Tony Marino was, she'd never let him get close to her. But that didn't mean she couldn't admire his tall, lean body and devastating dark eyes. And the way he filled his jeans out led her to believe he had quite a package hidden in there.
No. Don't think about his package or anything else about him. You know what happened the last time you got close to a man. No amount of pleasure is worth that kind of pain.
Not too many years ago, she'd have been dying to sample what was hidden behind that zipper. Now? She tamped down her body's base urges, knowing she'd never allow that kind of intimacy again.
Her mind knew that, her heart knew that, but her body still craved a man's touch. Especially when a man tumbled her senses all to hell like Tony did.
His skin was tanned, his hair black. With his Italian features he'd be right at home on the set of one of The Godfather movies. Sexy and brooding. And he sure frowned a lot. She could imagine that brain of his worked overtime. One didn't get to be as successful a writer as he was without doing a lot of thinking.
She'd done her research on him, even read a few of his articles. The man had exceptional talent at stringing together prose.
And scheming, she'd bet. He also wouldn't be the first reporter to try and dig up some dirt on her. But she'd buried her secrets deep. So deep no one could ever unearth them.
If only she could bury the memories as well.
Pushing the past into the far recesses of her mind, she led Tony to the backyard. The sky was clear, the stars shined brightly overhead, and the full moon reflected off the water in the pool, making it appear almost like daytime. They sat at the table on the veranda and Morgan inhaled, the smell of jasmine filling the air around them.
Then she waited for the questions.
It didn't take him very long.
"Why Paradise Resort?" he asked.
Surprisingly he had no paper or pen with him, nor had he carried his laptop outside.
"Don't you need to take notes?" she asked.
"Nah, I have a good memory. Besides, if I need to quote you on something I'll verify that's what you said before it goes to print."
She nodded. "Good to know. I'd hate to be misquoted."
It took her a few seconds of admiring the rugged beauty of his face to recall that he'd asked her a question. "I bought Paradise Resort because I felt there was a need for a place like this."
"Why?"
Typical reporter-one word questi
on. She thought about answering because and leaving it at that, but that wasn't how she'd been raised. She might have thought about being a smartass once in awhile, but she'd never actually acted upon it.
"There aren't many places where people can feel free to indulge sexual fantasies to their fullest extent."
"Can't people have whatever sex they want in the privacy of their own bedrooms?"
"Some can. Some can't, or choose not to."
"You have personal experience there?" he asked, his chocolate eyes narrowing.
She smiled at him. "No comment."
He sighed and rolled his shoulders, turning his neck to the side.
"Long day?" she asked.
"Yeah. Got a crick in my neck and I'm sweating. Mind if I make use of your pool while we talk?"
