A Woman To Blame (15 page)

"There's no one now. It was over months ago." Shaking his head, he stood up again, suddenly restless. "Do you want to hear this?"

Her palms lay open on her thighs in a gesture of surrender. "I have to hear this."

"Her name is Sharon Burke and she lives on one of the Lower Keys. What we had was a simple, physical relationship."

"Is she a prostitute?"

"No. She'd lost her husband in a boating accident about eight months before we got together. And I was alone too. Bryn, we weren't looking to complicate our lives, but we both had needs, and at the time the idea of an arrangement appeared workable. I suppose the whole affair sounds calculated, and to be honest, it was."

"Did you care for her?"

He hesitated before he began to speak. "I know what you're asking, and all I can say is, I wasn't looking for anything more than what she had to offer. And she's a good person, Bryn." He shrugged at his loss for words. "But situations change. I hadn't called her in several months, and when I finally saw her the other night, she was as ready to call it quits as I was."

"Why?" Bryn asked, twisting around to face him. He came back to the bed. "What happened?"

"You happened," he said, pulling her up on her knees and against him. "And you keep happening. Every time I see you, or touch you or even think about you, I want you."

The power and passion in his voice pushed back other questions she wanted to ask him. Everything about him said his affair was over, and that he wanted her now. Responding to his stirring passion, she accepted his blunt explanation with a hot kiss that brought them both down on the bed. After a valiant struggle to prolong their foreplay, they both scrambled for another packet on the nightstand. When he reached between her thighs and began lifting himself over her, she pushed him back and took the place on top. "Not this time. This time, I want to wrap my knees around you," she whispered, guiding him inside her moist heat. He was hers now, and if she had any lingering doubts, they disappeared in the riveting attention his eyes were paying her. "I want to make those sounds for you when I move on you... like this."

Her name formed on his lips, but he was too steeped in pleasure to speak. Sweet torment distorted his mouth until she covered it with a kiss. That she had taken him to his limit so quickly, filled her with a new feminine power and the impulse to use it. Tightening around him, she leaned forward and whispered, "Just like this, Rick." When she heard him gasp, she sank down on him, surrendering them both to a soul-shaking union.

Chapter 7

Bryn meant to leave early the next morning but one good-morning kiss led to another, and six A.M. became seven A.M. And then eight A.M. They finally both agreed after a lusty, breathless coupling on his kitchen floor that they had places to go, work that wouldn't wait and problems to solve. But tonight they were definitely reserving for themselves. Yes, tonight made sense, they mumbled through a few more kisses.

Tonight, Bryn silently reminded herself, she was going to ask Rick about things that her grandfather and Liza had attempted to tell her. What did she know about Rick? He was a man of the moment who knew how to push her buttons, and made her take stock of her personal life, especially what she lacked in the man/woman area. Rick Parrish was more than a sexual technician who could bring her to mind-boggling orgasm. His tenderness for her tugged at her heart even now.

Rick kissed her all the way to her car, then pulled her out of it and kicked the door shut to share one last embrace. When he eventually backed away from her, hands in the air, she was still tingling from his touch.

"I have to cancel a reserved charter," he said as much to himself as to her. "I've got paperwork. And there's an engine needing an overhaul." As he started off she didn't bother hiding her frustrated sigh.

"Aw, the hell with it," he said, doing an about-face to close the gap between them. "Tonight's too far away. Meet me at the marina at ten and we'll head down to Key West for the day."

Still heady with their new intimacy, she infused her question with a teasing, breathy innocence. "Is that an order, Captain Parrish?"

She watched him sizing her up with playful exaggeration. He'd never been more relaxed with her. After thoughtfully rubbing his shirtless chest, he rested both hands on his hips. "It is. Are you questioning my authority?"

"Depends on what the punishment is," she said, before biting back a laughter-filled smile. When he made the move to capture her, she blocked him by opening her door and getting in. "I take it back. And besides, I have business in Key West this week and I can probably get it done today," she said, starting her car.

"If I let you out of my sight long enough," he said with mock gruffness.

"Don't make threats unless you're willing to follow through on them, Captain." Sticking out a lazy tongue, she pulled slowly out of his driveway. "Ten o'clock at the marina."

"I'll be waiting for you."

* * *

At five minutes to ten she parked her car at Parrish's Marina. Her heart was racing by the time she got to the roped walkway leading to the docks. When she reached for the thick rope that served as a railing, she hesitated, then brought her hands halfway to her face instead. They were shaking, and she asked herself why the idea of spending the day with him would cause this reaction. But she was kidding herself, because she already knew the real question causing the trembling in her hands and the thumping in her chest.
What was she going to find out about him and his life before she'd met him?

With a huffy sigh over her fears, she stepped up onto the dock. Rick had already proved himself to be a thoughtful, caring man. And she certainly had no complaints about his powerful sexuality and his ability to reach hers. What kept niggling at her was the rest of him. Sure, he came with character references from virtually everyone on Malabar Key, but his past was a blank. When she felt that sinking sensation in her chest, she squeezed hard on the rope railing. Key West and all its charms were waiting. More important, so was Rick Parrish.

But Rick wasn't waiting alone.

Rick's voice was coming from the other side of the bait shack. "I can't allow her on the boat. Sorry to have to change your plans, but that's always been my policy in this situation."

"Well, no one told us about this policy when we made the reservation two months ago, Captain Parrish. And besides, we asked for Charlie and his boat."

"Charlie works by this marina's rules. If you'll step into the office, we'll credit your charge card in full."

"But I'm barely four months along, and I feel great. If I hadn't mentioned it, you wouldn't have known I'm pregnant. Hey, if I promise not to have the baby until we get back, would you make an—"

Rick cut the woman off before she could end her lighthearted attempt to change his mind. "No exceptions."

As a screaming gull punctuated the tense silence, Bryn found herself pulling for the mother-to-be.

"Come on, honey," her husband said, rattling their fishing poles as he gathered them up with the rest of their gear. "We'll go on to Islamorada."

Grumbling about the "absurd rule," the couple passed Bryn on their way to the office.

"That guy got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Better watch yourself with him," the attentive father-to-be said before maneuvering around Bryn, his wife in tow.

By the time the man had finished his warning, Bryn had glued her gaze to Rick. He was standing, hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts, directing his attention away from the couple until he heard the door of the L-shaped building close behind them. Bryn watched him step back as two of his workers passed him on the way to another boat. Their good-natured laughter appeared to rouse him from sobering thoughts, and only then did he notice Bryn. Groping for his sunglasses, which were hanging on a cord around his neck, he shoved them on.

"Been waiting long?"

"Long enough," she answered, feeling the tension pull at her smile. "Practicing safe staring again?" she asked, pointing to his sunglasses. When the question didn't produce a smile, she moved a few steps closer. "Rick, that woman hardly looked pregnant. Is there a Coast Guard regulation or, I don't know, a superstition against pregnant women on boats?"

"No, it's my policy."

"But, I don't—"

"Things are easier this way."

"There was barely a baby bump. I still don't—"

"Marina policy," he said, draping his arm over her shoulders as he waved off the uncomfortable situation. "So, what have you been doing with yourself for the last couple of hours?"

There was no doubt in her mind that he didn't want to talk about the uncomfortable situation that had occurred minutes earlier. By rights she had to let it go, too, even if there was more to the story. Marina policy was in Rick's domain and none of her business. "What have I been doing with myself? Making phone calls. You know, it still amazes me how much work I can do from this little island with a Smart phone, my laptop and the internet.

Rick guided her toward his Jeep. "Tell me about it," he said, as he dropped a kiss to her cheek.

"The price list for Italian milk-glass light fixtures? The long-awaited decision on the drapery pattern about to be hung in all the Smithdale Inns nationwide?" she asked, ruffling the caramel-colored hair on his arm. "Oh, no. We have much more interesting subjects to talk about."

"True. If we don't get moving on this fund-raiser, we'll be scrambling around with lemonade stands and dog-bathing services to pay for that ambulance," he said as he watched her get into the Jeep. He walked around the vehicle, pausing to look at the car the couple had come in.

As she waited for him to get in, Bryn had to admit that he was right. They had committed themselves to a community project, and she finally had a specific idea to talk over with him. Still, she couldn't pretend she wasn't disappointed when he didn't take her hint to talk about themselves. Or, more to the point, about himself.

"So, have you come up with that pizzazzy idea you threatened me with, or should we shoot for the fishing tournament?"

"I do have an idea. You know, I run in the morning and—" She broke off to squint at him. "Why are you smiling?"

"I know you run in the morning. I see you over there by that jacaranda tree doing your warm-up."

"You've been watching me?"

"Bryn Madison, does it surprise you to know that I haven't been able to keep my eyes off you? I've developed an acute affinity for your red running shorts," he said, starting the Jeep and shifting into reverse. "I like them almost as much as the black satin pair."

"They're not satin," she said, trying to remove the smile from her face. With his head still tilted in her direction and his grin still teasing her, she looked straight ahead. "I was thinking about a five-day sports festival topped off with a 10K fun run. There'd be an activity for everyone. One day for handicapped, another for children, one for the over-sixty group. Different events for every day."

He lifted his foot off the clutch and eased out of his parking space. "Go on, I'm listening."

"Liza has a list of potential sponsors. They'll probably like the idea of a week-long event because they'll be advertising their name to a different crowd each day."

"True," he said, nodding, deep in thought. "I know the manager of a radio station in Key West, and he'll publicize anything for a good cause. You know, I think you've got something here." Driving out of the parking lot, he headed for the highway. "Keep talking."

Pulling her knee up, she shifted in her seat, and for the next forty-five minutes they worked out more details.

* * *

"What's your business here today?" he asked as he pulled into a tree-shaded parking spot just off Duval Street in Key West.

Shoving her hair back from her face, she climbed out of the Jeep and into his arms. "I have to tell a man named Louis Trudeaux that I won't be needing him as a chef for Chez Madison. He doesn't have a phone, but he assured me I can usually find him at Sloppy Joe's."

"You're doing okay with this idea of changing the restaurant back to Pappy's Crab Shack?"

"Yes, I am, Rick. I want what's best for my grandfather."