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She believed herself in love with a man who didn’t exist. A man of duty, honor and integrity. They were principles that he’d been raised to embrace, but they’d been sadly lacking the moment he’d pulled Brooke into his arms and kissed her that first time.
“My brothers and I own it,” he said, wishing so many things could be different.
Brooke’s very stillness suggested the calm before the storm. “I see.”
That was it? No explosion? No ranting? “What do you see?”
“That we have a lot to talk about.”
He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to pull her into his arms and make love to her until they were both too exhausted to speak. “I’ve already said everything I intend to.” He shouldn’t have phrased that like a challenge. She was as tenacious as a terrier when she got her teeth into something.
“Don’t give me that. You owe me some answers.”
“Fine.” He owed her more than that. “What do you want to know?”
“You have brothers?”
“Two. We’re triplets.”
“You never talked about your family. Why is that?”
“There’s not much to say.”
“Here’s where we disagree.”
She stepped closer. Vanilla and honey enveloped him, overpowering the scent of cypress and the odor of brine carried on the light morning breeze. With her finger she eased his dark sunglasses down his nose and captured his gaze. Her delicate brows pulled together in a frown.
He braced himself against the pitch and roll of emotions as her green-gray eyes scoured his face. He should tell her to go away, but he was so damned glad to see her that the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he growled like a cranky dog that wasn’t sure whether to bite or beg to be petted.
“You look like hell.”
“I’m fine.” Disgusted by his suddenly hoarse voice, he knocked her hand aside and slid his sunglasses back into place.
She, on the other hand, looked gorgeous. Rambunctious red hair, streaked with dark honey, framed her oval face and cascaded over her shoulders. Her pale, unblemished skin, arresting dimples and gently curving cheekbones made for the sort of loveliness any man could lose his head over. A wayward curl tickled his skin as she leaned over him. Shifting his gaze, he took the strand between two fingers and toyed with it.
“What have you been doing all alone in your fancy villa?” she asked.
“If you must know, I’m working.”
“On your tan maybe.” She sniffed him and wrinkled her slender nose. “Or a hangover. Your eyes are bloodshot.”
“I’ve been working late.”
“Riiight.” She drew the word out doubtfully. “I’ll make some coffee. It looks like you could use some.”
Safe behind his dark glasses, he watched her go, captivated by the gentle sway of her denim-clad rear and her long legs. Satin smooth skin stretched over lean muscles, honed by yoga and running. His pulse purred as he recalled those strong, shapely legs wrapped around his hips.
Despite the cool morning air, his body heated. An hour ago, he’d opened his eyes, feeling as he had most of the past few mornings: queasy, depressed and distraught over the accident that had occurred during a test firing of their prototype rocket ship.
Brooke’s arrival on this sleepy, Greek island was like being awakened from a drugged sleep by an air horn.
“Someone must be taking care of you,” she said a short time later, bringing the smell of bitter black coffee with her when she returned. “The coffeepot was filled with grounds and water. All I had to do was turn it on.”
Nic’s nostrils flared eagerly as he inhaled the robust aroma. The scent alone was enough to bring him back to life.
She sat down on the lounge beside his and cradled her mug between both hands. She took a tentative sip and made a face. “Ugh. I forgot how strong you like it.”
He grunted and willed the liquid to cool a little more so he could drain his cup and start on a second. It crossed his mind that coping with Brooke while a strong jolt of stimulant rushed through his veins was foolhardy at best. She riled him up admirably all by herself, making the mix of caffeine and being alone with her a lethal combination.
“So, am I interrupting a romantic weekend?”
Luckily he hadn’t taken another sip, or the stuff might have come straight out his nose. His fingers clenched around the mug. When they began to cramp, he ground his teeth and relaxed his grip.
“Probably not,” she continued when he didn’t answer. “Or you’d be working harder to get rid of me.”
Damn her for showing up while his guard was down. Temptation rode him like a demon every time she was near. But he couldn’t have her. She mustn’t know how much he wanted her. He’d barely summoned the strength to break things off a month ago. But now that he was alone with her on this island, her big misty-green eyes watching his every mood, would his willpower hold out?
