Always (9 page)

Clancy Donahue was a master at the game of checkers.

Lisa soon found out why that smile had been charged with elfin humor. The predicted sunburn had duly appeared by the time she’d showered after they had returned to the villa. Though not particularly painful, it was enough to keep her from wanting to expose herself unnecessarily for a time. In the next two days she found that Donahue was an expert not only at checkers and chess, but at poker and gin rummy as well. He played with a quiet concentration and a boyish zest that made it a pleasure to compete with him even when she lost—something that happened with depressing frequency.

At the end of the second evening of this cruel and unusual punishment, Lisa pushed back her chair and shook her head ruefully. “Skunked
again. Where did you learn to play so damned well? I’m not at all sure you haven’t lied to me, Clancy. You couldn’t have had time to learn all these skills and have a career, too.”

“Checkers I learned in a campaign in Southeast Asia when I was eighteen. Karim was a chess fanatic and always looking for someone to play. Philip El Kabbar hooked me on mahjongg. Poker was always one—”

She held up her hand to stop him. “I’m sorry I asked. Is there any game in which you aren’t expert?”

He tilted his head consideringly. “Monopoly, maybe. I’ve only played that once or twice with Sabrina’s son. Do you want me to send to town for a set?”

“Are you kidding? That’s a big business game, and you’ve played it for real in one form or another since you were a kid. We can’t play Clue for the same reason.” Smiling, she stood up. “I’ll think about tic-tac-toe while I make coffee. At least there wouldn’t be a winner.”

He frowned in sudden concern. “Should I
have let you win? I didn’t think you’d want that.”

She shook her head. “No, I can take it. Though perhaps in a little less massive doses.” She turned toward the kitchen. “Next time I get a sunburn I’m going to read and improve my mind.”

Clancy rose to his feet and trailed after her into the kitchen. “Next time I may be in a position to keep you amused in other ways. There is a game that has only one rule and everyone wins.”

She glanced warily over her shoulder. “What game?”

“Pleasure,” he said softly. “Wanna play?”

She looked away. Caught again. Clancy could go on for hours being the perfect companion, teasing, casual, almost avuncular. Then, when she least expected it, he would slip in a remark like that and suddenly she would feel a bolt of sexual awareness that was like a hand stroking her. She wished she hadn’t thought of that simile. It reminded her of the times during the last two days when she’d sat
across the card table and watched his hands as they shifted a chess piece or drummed lazily on the table as he waited for her to move. Those broad, capable hands that had moved on her thigh, burning her.… Quickly she blocked the memory. “You’d probably stack the deck,” she said as she crossed the room and opened the coffee cannister.

“Only if it would give you the edge.” He sat down on the stool at the breakfast bar. “I don’t think you’d mind my letting you win at that game.”

Lisa’s hand trembled as she measured the coffee into the coffeemaker. Suddenly the sexual tension between them was vibrantly alive again. Most of the time she was conscious of it only as a subliminal force, until Clancy chose to strip off the gloves and bring it nakedly to the forefront. Strip. Naked. Damn, she had to keep away from words that brought images to mind. Clancy’s broad naked chest feathered with soft springy hair. His hard stomach and powerful thighs.

“You’re putting in too much coffee,” Clancy
said softly. “Unless you’ve decided you need an overload of caffeine to keep you awake tonight.”

“No. I wasn’t thinking, I guess.” She moistened her lips. She had been thinking too much, blast it. “I don’t really want it, anyway. Why don’t we just turn in?”

“Okay.” He stood up. “You seem a little nervous. Is there something wrong?”

“Jail fever. I need to get out of the house.” She turned to face him. “I need to get away from Paradise Cay. Martin hasn’t shown up. He’s probably half a world away from here. Let me go, Clancy.”

He shook his head. “It’s just a question of time.” He walked slowly toward her. “If you want to get out of the house, I’ll take you to the straw market tomorrow afternoon. I hear it’s something of a tourist trap, but it will be a change.”

“With Galbraith and your other minions trailing along behind?”

“They won’t get in the way. You won’t even see them if they’re doing their job properly.”

“But I’ll know that they’re there.” She poured the coffee back into the cannister. “You’re sure I can’t talk you into putting me on a plane to New York instead?”

He nodded. “I’m very sure. I’ve never been more sure of anything.” He was standing next to her, close enough for her to feel the heat emanating from his body. “Has it been so bad for you the last few days? I thought you were enjoying yourself.” His lips lifted in a lopsided smile. “I know I’m not most women’s idea of the man with whom they’d like to be stranded on a desert island, but I thought you’d adjusted very well.”

Did he really think he wasn’t attractive to women? Probably. She had found him remarkably lacking in conceit. “No, it hasn’t been bad,” she said gently. In retrospect, the last few days had been stimulating, amusing, even challenging. Clancy was keenly intelligent, quick witted, with a marvelous sense of humor and a fine appreciation of the ridiculous. He had a zest for life that blended oddly with the cynicism that his lifestyle had bred. She’d found
herself not only desiring him physically, but craving his company as well. That realization was probably what had triggered her sudden burst of desperation. He was coming too close, and she couldn’t risk that. The less intimacy the better from now on. “You can’t blame me for being a little restless under the circumstances. The straw market sounds fine.”

“Have you been restless?” he asked softly. “So have I. Do you suppose it springs from the same cause?” His eyes were narrowed intently on her face. “If it does, I can suggest a better remedy than the straw market.” His hands reached up to cradle her face. Warm, capable hands, the pads of his fingers slightly calloused and rough against the smoothness of her cheeks. Strong hands, yet they were a little unsteady as they touched her.

She excited him, and the knowledge increased her own arousal. She was trembling again. It seemed to be a permanent state when she was around Clancy. “Not a safe remedy.”

“I’d keep you safe. You’ll always be safe with me.” His thumbs splayed out, rubbing
gently at the corners of her mouth. “As safe as you want to be.” His thumbs moved slowly to meet in the center of her lower lip. “Sometimes it can be fun to forget about safety. Haven’t you found that?” He exerted the tiniest pressure and her lips parted. “I can feel the throbbing of your heart against my thumbs. Your lips are almost as sensitive as your breasts, aren’t they?”

Lisa swallowed; her breasts lifted and fell with each shallow breath. The top button of his white shirt was undone and she could see a shadowy glimpse of the wiry pelt of hair on his chest. She couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away. She wanted to touch him, comb her fingers through that crisp mat, explore the powerful, heavy muscles of his shoulders. His dark head was lowering slowly. “Take a chance, Lisa,” he urged. “Give me your tongue.”

He covered her lips with his mouth but exerted no pressure. Waiting. His lips were warm and hard, his breath clean and sweet, but she wanted more. She gave him what he wanted, and she felt him shudder against her. He took her into his mouth, sucking gently, lovingly. She
felt his body harden as he pulled her into the hollow of his hips.

Her hands reached out blindly, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He went still. Then, without taking his mouth from hers, he brushed her hands aside and unbuttoned the shirt himself. He took her palms and placed them flat against his chest. She made a sound deep in her throat that was half moan, half purr of satisfaction. This was what she had wanted. Her palms tingled as the crispness of him pressed into their softness. She moved her hands slowly, tentatively, savoring the sensation, playing, tangling, tugging.

He was rock hard against her, and the muscles of his chest and belly were knotted with a tension that was almost unbearable. His breath came raggedly in harsh gasps and he was forced to lift his head. He shuddered. “I love your hands on me.” His hands tangled in her hair. “But it’s not enough. I want your mouth, too, love.” He pulled her close so that her cheek was cushioned against the soft hair that had been her playground. The clean smell of
soap and man surrounded her, and his skin was warm beneath her lips. Her tongue touched, tasted.

He flinched as if she’d struck him, his fingers twisting in her hair. “Lisa …” He moved her lips to another place on his body. “Here, acushla.” Then he shifted her again. “And here.” He moved her head once more. “Lord, that’s wonderful.” Suddenly he crushed her mouth to his chest, holding her so tightly that she was breathless. Shudder after shudder ran through him. “Too wonderful. I’m going out of my mind. Let’s go to bed!”

She couldn’t seem to think. How had they come this far in such a short time? “Clancy …”

“I’ll make you happy.” His hands left her hair and slid down her back in a caressing movement that held yearning tenderness as well as hunger. “Let me try to give you what you need, what we both need. I love you, Lisa.”

She felt a little shock run through her as the last words sank home. He did believe that he loved her and this wouldn’t be just a pleasant night’s romp for him. It would be a step toward
the commitment he was trying to wrest from her. The commitment she had no intention of giving any man.

He went still as he felt the unconscious stiffening of her body against him. “Lisa?” He pushed her gently away from him, his hands cupping her shoulders. His gaze searched her face and his expression clouded at what he read there. “No?”

She bit her lower lip. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop you right away. I’m not usually a tease, Clancy.”

“I know that,” he replied. His features were still drawn and hard with hunger. “My fault. I started it. It’s been a rough couple of days, and I got a little impatient.” He laughed mirthlessly. “But I’m sure I’ll be punished for that lack of virtue tonight. I’ll probably lie in bed awake and aching all night.”

“So will I,” she whispered.

“Well, you can just lie there in the same torment that I’m going to go through. I’m not about to give you back those damn sleeping pills.”

She shook her head wearily. “I don’t want them. I only take them when—” She broke off and turned away. “Good night, Clancy. This situation isn’t getting any easier for either one of us, is it? I think you may decide to let me go sooner than you think.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. I can take a fair amount of punishment. I was once captured by a band of revolutionaries who tortured me every day for three and a half weeks before Alex rescued me. It wasn’t nearly as bad as what I’m going through right now, but it did condition me.” He inclined his head in a half-mocking bow. “Good night, Lisa. I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning.”

T
HERE WAS NO
question about it. It was Martin standing in the half shadow of the awning of the booth across the square.

Lisa felt the blood freeze in her veins, then heat up and start pumping so furiously that she felt a little ill. She cast a swift, surreptitious glance at Clancy standing next to her and breathed a sigh of relief. He was examining a rather flamboyant straw basket with a big-eyed Betty Boop on the side. There was an amused smile on his lips, so he couldn’t have noticed either Martin or how upset she was.

Why should he? If she hadn’t spotted Martin’s idiosyncratic and most arrogant stance, she wouldn’t have recognized her ex-husband, either. He was partially hidden behind a stack of rattan chests as well as by the shadow cast beneath the colorful striped awning. But she knew Martin wouldn’t allow himself to remain unnoticed: he would approach her with his usual belligerence, and then Clancy would have him. The trap she had been used to bait would snap shut.

“It’s pretty campy, isn’t it?” Clancy asked, turning to her with a grin. “Garfield the cat, Betty Boop, Mickey Mouse. I told you it was a tourist trap.” His amusement faded as he caught sight of her face. “What’s wrong? You’re pale as a ghost.”

She groped wildly for an excuse. “The heat.” She smiled shakily. “I feel a little sick. You said I should take care not to overdo. I guess I should have worn a hat.”

He frowned with concern. “We’ll go back to the villa.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’ll be fine. It will
pass in a minute.” She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “But I wonder if you could possibly go back to that booth we passed and pick up one of those big straw sailor hats?”

He was still frowning. “I still think—”

“I’ll be fine,” she repeated. She drew a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. “Just get me the hat, please. I promise not to try to run away. Even if I was tempted to bolt, I’m sure Galbraith has his eagle eye on me.”