Breaking the Rules (6 page)

“I don’t have to see you.”

Starting at her forehead, his fingers moved down her face, touching her eyes, her cheekbones, her nose and mouth. “Your skin is smooth,” he said quietly. As if on cue, the music changed to a soft, romantic tune. “Your eyes…they slant some. Your nose turns up. Your lips are full.”

Pleasure shimmied through her before the worries and guilt she’d just pushed aside returned full force. Why
had she allowed this to happen? She wanted Mitch Talbott, and he was giving every signal that if she just said the word, she could have him. At least for a while. But that was impossible. She belonged with James. They owned a business together. They shared a history. A future. Just last month they’d started the wheels in motion to buy a house.

Claire leaned away from Mitch and forced herself to think about James. She couldn’t risk doing anything that might ruin her plan of getting her life back on track.

“Mitch, there’s something I should tell you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He slid his hands beneath her shirt to leisurely rub her back. “So your hair’s really purple and you have a tattoo on your forehead. I can live with that.”

“Mitch, seriously—”

“You talk too much.”

She didn’t protest when his mouth covered hers, ending any further discussion.

He didn’t press for more, only talked and touched and held her close through the night.

Later, with his hands still warm beneath her shirt, Claire nestled against him, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Mitch had fallen asleep.

She wished she could be as lucky.

Chapter Six

Mitch tossed a handful of peanuts into his mouth. He still had a few minutes left on his dinner break. Then he would return to the confession booth to film more of the same dim-witted babble he’d listened to all day. Until then, though, he didn’t want to think about the game.

A few feet away, in a shimmering turquoise pool, couples splashed and dunked and shrieked. Others reclined a safe splashing distance from the water, eyes hidden behind dark glasses, oil-slicked bodies bared to the receding sun.

Mitch scowled. How was he supposed to forget about the game of
Eden
when the playing pieces lay scattered everywhere? He shifted toward the resort’s large outside deck. Overlooking the ocean, it offered a view of the crimson sun as it slowly melted into the water. Couples were arriving for dinner. Mitch studied faces, looking for a woman who fit the description of the goddess he’d met last night. Aphrodite O’Malley. He hadn’t run across her today. At least if he had, he didn’t know it.

Reaching inside the canvas drawstring bag at his side, he retrieved her emerald-green bikini and studied it.
Swimsuit
, he amended. Modest by
Eden’s
standards. He shifted his attention from the sculpted bra top to the high-waisted, shortlike bottoms. Modest by
anyone’s
standards. Anyone born in the last three decades, at least. On his way to work, he’d found it beneath a tree across from his cabana. The suit smelled faintly of jasmine.

A dark-skinned man with cottony-white hair, his teeth squared-off pearls, approached from the other side of the bar. He lifted Mitch’s half-empty bottle of beer, then set it down again. “You no done yet, mon?”

Frowning, Mitch peered up at the bartender’s fine, weather-worn features. “What do you make of this, Winston?” He extended the swimsuit for the older man’s inspection.

Winston took the bra top and bottoms, dangling each separately between the thumb and index fingers of both hands. “Forgive me, mon, but if I must explain de clothing of a woman to you, I know why you live alone.”

“I know what it is.” Mitch raised his eyes to the thatched roof overhead. “I’m asking about the fragrance. Do you recognize it?”

“You ask de right man when it come to da ladies.” With a deep, rich chuckle, he pressed the fabric to his nose and breathed deeply. “Yea, mon. I think it is Poison.”

“I should’ve guessed,” Mitch grumbled. She’d poisoned his mind, all right. Taking the garments from Winston, he placed them on top of the counter and stared at them while twisting a green strap around one finger. So she wore Poison. That was a start. But what else did he know about Aphrodite O’Malley other than the scent of her perfume and the fact that she’d lied about her name? He knew she stood five feet nine or ten inches in height, possessed long, slender, silky legs, a contagious laugh, a powerful stubborn streak. And she had a penchant for swimming in the nude.

He gave the strap another twist. What else? Her hair was short and dark, or so she’d said. And her husky Texas drawl was his new definition of sexy.

Mitch heaved a sigh that sounded more like a groan. He knew the shape of the woman’s features, the taste of her lips, the feel of her. And, despite his resolve to follow the rules for the sake of his job, he knew he ached to find her, to meet her a second time, to see her.

Mitch glanced up at the bartender. “What do you think, buddy? Would the sort of woman who wore that suit and that perfume be worth sidetracking your plans over?”

Winston picked up Mitch’s bottle again then wiped a damp cloth across the counter. “Big plans?”

“They’re important.”

“And de lady?”

“She’s…” Mitch recalled the sound of her laughter.

The bartender’s teeth flashed against his dark skin, his smile all-knowing. “Don’t worry. You are not de first brother to fall. She is an
Eden
player?”

Mitch quickly met the other man’s eyes.

Winston lifted a hand. “Your secret is mine, mon.”

Relieved, Mitch nodded his thanks. “I stumbled across her during the blackout. She stayed at my place all night, then ducked out this morning before I woke up.”

The bartender’s eyelids lowered to half-mast. Chuckling, he pressed a hand to his heart. “You in big trouble. Next time we link up, I will tell yuh a story or two. Mebbe Winston can show yuh how to romance de lady.”

Mitch pointed out a moisture droplet on the counter. “You missed a spot,” he said, and then reached for more peanuts. The last thing he needed was to romance an
Eden
contestant and jeopardize his plans for the career he’d been pursuing for as long as he could remember. He needed to find this particular goddess and confirm that she was nothing more than a seductive, though unconsummated, one-night stand.

“She disappeared,” he muttered, wishing he could get her off his mind and proceed with his previous plans. But he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Nothing he’d seen or done today had nudged her from his thoughts.

Mitch looked over his shoulder. He was pitiful. A poolside of bathing beauties just footsteps away and, for the life of him, he couldn’t kindle one spark of enthusiasm. “I don’t even know which one she is,” he mumbled to no one in particular as he pushed to his feet.

“Go along ’bout yuh business. You don’t need help wit dat problem. Your lady wants to be found.” The bartender tugged at the bra top Mitch held. “Why else she leave this behind for you, brother?”

Ignoring her friend’s pacing, Claire gave her toenails one last inspection before putting aside the pink polish. She’d had time to paint only the first three toes of each foot. No matter. The others wouldn’t show in her sandals.

“Good Lord, Claire,” Ally Kendall said, nibbling at a cuticle. “We were supposed to meet Rico, James, Marcus, and that horrible Dana bimbo five minutes ago. Would you please hurry?”

“Brimbeau.”

Ally stopped short and frowned at Claire. “What?”

“Darla’s last name. It’s Brimbeau, not Bimbo.”

“Whatever.” The pacing resumed. “You’ve already missed breakfast and lunch. You don’t want to miss dinner, too, do you? The first challenge of the second round is tonight.”

Ally was a fellow Texan and one of the few contestants Claire had met so far whose company she truly enjoyed. During the first two weeks of the game, they’d been in the same group at dinner on more than one occasion. “Don’t be so nervous,” Claire said. “James will understand if we’re a little late. I’m sure the others will, too.”

Pulling her finger from her mouth, Ally stopped in front of Claire. “Aren’t
you
nervous? Or even the least little bit antsy?” She waved her hands as if trying to catch Claire’s attention. “Hello? This is James we’re talking about here. You and James are meant to be. That’s all I’ve heard from you since we met. But where were you last night when Lover Lips was playing blind man’s bluff in the dark with Dana and the rest of the bimbo brigade? And where were you all day today when you could’ve been keeping an eye on him? If you’ve lost interest in your fiancé, the least you can do is help me watch out for Damien.”

Claire continued to blow on her wet toenails.

Ally tapped her foot. “Are you going to tell me where you were during the blackout last night?” Her foot tapped faster. “Do you think James’ll be happy when he finds out you stayed out all night?”

Claire limped to the closet for her sandals, trying to concentrate on the routine of getting ready. Trying to dodge the memories that hurtled toward her like baseballs in a batting cage. The tousled head of black hair she’d seen when she first opened her eyes this morning. The weight of Mitch’s arm draped across her waist. The heat of his palm on her breast. She glanced over her shoulder at Ally. “You’re the only one who knows about it. James won’t find out unless you tell him.”

Ally wiggled her eyebrows and grinned. “Maybe I should. You seem…I don’t know…different. In a good way. It’s not like you to straggle in at dawn after a night of doing Lord knows what.” She winked. “Come on, ’fess up now. Which one of the guys were you with? He must’ve been something if he’s swaying you away from James.”

“Nobody’s swaying me away from James. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
Not
that it didn’t cross
my
mind.

“Of course you weren’t. There’s not a thing in the world wrong with playing the field. In case you weren’t aware, that’s what this game’s all about, Claire. If you score a point or two along the way, all the better.”

Afraid the heat suffusing her cheeks told more than she cared to admit, Claire averted her eyes from Ally’s scrutiny. But the memories came at her again, catching her off guard when they hit, shattering her composure. She thought of Mitch’s olive-hued skin. His long, lean body. The sprinkle of silver dusting the hair above his ears.
Think about something else. Anything.
She threw three pairs of shoes behind her into the center of the room before finding her sandals.

“Don’t think you can pull one over on me, Claire Louise Mulligan,” Ally said, wagging her finger, her smile still in place. “I’ve gotten to know you like the back of my own hand. And I’m not blind. You turned up this morning wearing a man’s shirt and shorts and little else. You looked like you’d slept in the eye of a hurricane. I want the juicy details. All of them.”

“I wandered too far down the beach last night, is that juicy enough for you? I was out of the boundaries when the lights went out. Thankfully, a guy stumbled upon me.”
He has laugh lines around his eyes and a crease on his left cheek that probably turns into a dimple when he smiles.
Claire swallowed, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray the scattered rhythm of her pulse. “We managed to make our way to his cabana before the storm hit.”

“So he’s one of the contestants?”

Claire bit her lower lip. “Can you keep a secret?”

Ally leaned forward and nodded.

“He’s a cameraman.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Ally moved to the bed and sat. “Go on.”

“There’s nothing more to tell. We fell asleep, and when I woke up this morning, I left. End of story.”

“You can at least tell me what he looked like.”

He’d been sleeping like a baby when she’d slipped out of his cabana at dawn. But Mitch was no baby; that was for sure. He’d looked very much like a full-grown man…a wonderfully rumpled one. “He looked like an average guy.”

As Claire backed away from the closet and started toward the bed, Ally grabbed something off the nightstand and held it out, her expression amused.

“I don’t like to wear my engagement ring in the water,” Claire said, taking it and slipping it on. She’d never noticed before how tight it felt around her finger.

“Don’t explain to me. It’s James you should worry about.”

Hobbling the remaining steps to the bed, Claire sat, then shoved her sandals on, ruining her six-toe pedicure. She winced as the leather strap rubbed against her bandaged heel. “Who knows? James might be thrilled to hear I spent time with another man. I’m starting to think this thing he’s going through isn’t temporary at all. Maybe he really wants to get rid of me. Maybe that’s what coming on
Eden
was really all about. Maybe he doesn’t want to marry me.”

“Or he could just be playing hard to get. You know, to spice things up.” Ally tapped her chin. “It might just work to your advantage to drop a few hints about last night. Make him jealous.” Ally glanced down at Claire’s heel. “You never said what happened to your foot.”

“I cut it on a rock or something during the blackout.”

“So what are you going to tell James?”

“That I cut it on a rock or something during the blackout.”