Kitabı oku: «The Wrong Bed: Again and Again», sayfa 2

2

JOSIE COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time she’d had such a nice dream.

Usually, she woke up instantly to her alarm clock, bouncing out of bed with no memory of her nighttime imaginings. But right now she reveled in the groggy half sleep that left her body relaxed and her mind free to wander. It was a delicious, self-indulgent feeling to simply lie there. Josie felt better than peaceful. She felt…warm all over. Her skin hummed, vibrant and alive. Awareness sparked along her nerve endings, tingling sweetly in all the best places.

From somewhere in the deep recesses of her brain, a man’s voice resonated.

“I can’t wait to taste you.” The low, confident tone did wicked things to her already simmering libido.

Her breasts beaded at the thought of the dream man’s mouth on her. She arched toward the sound, a wordless plea for him to make good on the sensual threat.

When he didn’t comply immediately, she knew a moment’s frustration. She wanted to draw him closer, to feel his tongue on her breast, licking away the hungry tension in skin that felt too tight. Too needy. But her limbs were heavy and lethargic.

“Please,” she murmured, her fingers sliding over her taut nipple. “Please.”

She could almost feel the warm breath of her fantasy man on her skin there, right where she wanted him. His scent, clean and salty like an ocean breeze, teased her nose.

Needing him, she drew her hand from her blouse and flung her arm forward. The movement jarred her, causing an ache in her neck. Her head fell off her pillow onto a cold, hard surface that wasn’t her bed.

Confused, Josie struggled to return to a comfortable spot. To the sweet lure of her fantasy man and a dream that felt incredibly real.

“Are you okay?” the deep bass voice asked.

Damn it. Why wasn’t he asking her to unbutton her blouse? To slide beneath silk sheets with him and tear off all their clothes?

She waited for her consciousness to return to that sexy, dreamy place. Instead, the ache in her neck increased.

“Wake up, beautiful,” the man in her dreams said.

But oddly, his voice seemed clearer now. Closer, somehow.

Wrenching her heavy eyelids open, Josie forced herself to take stock of her surroundings. To figure out why her pillow was so hard. To see why her alarm hadn’t gone off and why she was lazing around in the dark….

“Oh, my God,” she whispered.

A real, live, hot-looking man sat beside her in a room lit by a green, wavering night-light. He wore a light-colored dress shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing strong, well-defined pecs beneath. A silver saint’s medallion hung around his neck.

She didn’t recognize him. Could never have met him before this moment or she would have remembered. His chiseled jaw was covered with a shadow of late-night bristles. Full, sculpted lips; a straight Roman nose. Eyes an uncommon color, though it was too dark to tell the shade for sure. Green, maybe? Dark eyelashes framed them and heavy eyebrows topped them. An old scar ran across his forehead.

Details that were way too real for a dream.

“What are you doing here?” She straightened quickly, making herself dizzy. A spike of adrenaline pierced the sensual awareness that had held her captive a moment ago. “Where am I?”

Her pulse raced as she tried to absorb her surroundings. The stranger with her. Just because he was absurdly handsome didn’t exclude the possibility that he meant her harm.

“You’re on my brother’s boat. The Vesta.” He spoke slowly and calmly, his tone soothing her where it had once stoked a fire inside her. “You must have boarded it last night when it was still docked in Chatham.”

“Chatham?” Her heart rate slowed a little at his reasonable tone of voice. His presence wasn’t threatening even though he sat close beside her inside… “A boat?”

Realization hit her like a cartoon anvil to the head.

“The boat!” she exclaimed, remembering her trip to Chatham. She latched on to the swatch book on the table in front of her. “I boarded the boat to discuss some new designs for my cousin Chase…” The horror of the moment began to dawn on her. “Oh, God. You’re not Chase Freeman.”

“No.” The sexy stranger shook his head as he took a document out of his wallet and passed it to her. “I’m Keith Murphy, and my boat was docked beside his.” The document proved to be his driver’s license, which confirmed his claim and his residence in Chatham. “Maybe you wandered onto the wrong vessel?”

She’d completely missed her appointment with Chase the night before.

“Oh no.” Her stomach sank as full alertness returned. She remembered being exhausted and worried about getting seasick. “The numbering on the slips was so confusing. I thought this was the right boat because the lights were on. Then I took some motion sickness medicine and it must have knocked me out. What time is it?”

Maybe she could still meet Chase. Rising to her feet, she tried to pull herself together until the man—Keith—gently grasped her wrist.

“It’s four in the morning and we’re not in Chatham anymore. I didn’t know you were on board and I set sail about one o’clock.”

She found it tough to focus on his words when he squeezed, then released her. How could a total stranger’s touch feel so familiar? So incredibly good?

Snippets of her sexy dream returned to her and she wondered…

“Did anything else happen while I was sleeping?” Sinking back onto the seat beside him, she tried to process the situation. Her skin buzzed with a palpable, electric hum. “That is, did we…”

She had no idea where she was going with that question. But her nerve endings vibrated with keen awareness. He had said things to her, sexy things, hadn’t he? Her heartbeat quickened at the blur of steamy memories.

Mr. Fantasy smiled a thousand-watt grin that was sexy and shameless. “You were out of it when I got down here, but you didn’t talk in your sleep or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Not really. I…” How could she explain that she felt as turned on as if he’d touched her? That she was kind of worried she’d thrown herself at him in her half-dreaming state?

She smoothed a hand over her hair, trying to restore some order and some self control. This wasn’t like her at all.

“Look, Miss…” He seemed to be waiting for her to fill in the blank.

“Oh. Josie Passano.” She extended her hand. “I apologize for boarding the wrong boat. If we could just turn around, I could try to salvage my meeting. I really needed that account.”

“Josie.” He tested the name and seemed to like it, if his slow nod was any indication. “Can I get you something to drink first?”

Rising, he flicked on a low light over the galley cook-top, making her realize they’d been sitting in the green glow of a night-light all that time. Good heavens, she was out of it. The medicine must have done a number on her.

“That would be great. Cold water, if you have any.”

As he moved toward the small icebox, she noticed his shirttails were untucked and his feet were bare. He’d rolled up his trousers like a man who’d just waded in the ocean. She liked that he’d kept some distance as she woke up, his smooth, deep voice and relaxed body language all putting her at ease when she had every right to be scared to death to find herself on a stranger’s boat in the middle of the night.

He turned and caught her staring.

“Here you go.” Offering her a clear plastic cup, he filled a second for himself and sat across from her at the small table. “Josie, I doubt that Chase Freeman made it back to his boat last night, so I wouldn’t worry about him remembering a missed appointment until afternoon at the earliest. I saw him on the dance floor at my brother’s engagement party and he looked like he’d had a few too many. I’d be willing to bet he either crashed at my parents’ place or at a, uh, friend’s house.”

She read between the lines that her cousin had been trying to hook up with someone. Not that she cared about his personal life other than how it affected their business relationship. What threw her for a loop was connecting the dots that this man—Mr. Fantasy—was a Murphy. He’d said it, but she hadn’t fully appreciated the import.

She hoped he didn’t know her train wreck of a family. Thankfully, her name change had given her the anonymity she craved.

“Robert Murphy is your father?” She straightened in her seat, wishing she hadn’t shown up on the wrong boat like some sex-starved Goldilocks, all hot and bothered for her host.

She must look completely unprofessional, darn it. Didn’t she always tell Marlena you never knew where you might meet your next client? If she were on her game, she might be able to talk her way into a meeting with a representative of Murphy Resorts. But that wasn’t going to happen if she kept drooling over Keith.

And his well-connected family was all the more reason not to get involved. She had no desire to land back in Boston’s society columns, having her private life dissected. For that matter, after how kind he’d been to her, she wouldn’t want to foist bad press on Keith, either.

“Yes. He and my mom hosted a big party for my brother and his fiancée last night. That’s why the marina was so crowded. A lot of the guests came by boat.” He sipped his water, watching her over the rim of his cup. “You said you took motion-sickness medicine. How are you doing now that it’s worn off?”

“Me?” She hadn’t given it a second thought, but she’d been so fuzzy headed since waking up, her gray matter wasn’t working at full speed. “Fine, I think. I might have been hasty with the Dramamine. I got seasick on a boat ride to Catalina when I was young, but my mom told me afterward I’d had an ear infection or something.” She spoke quickly, nervous now that she realized her host was from one of Boston’s top entrepreneurial families. “I took the medicine to be safe, but I think I’d rather brave out the time on your boat and see how it goes, rather than fall asleep again. I can’t believe I slept through you coming on board and setting sail. You said we’re not in Chatham anymore?”

“We’re close to Nantucket.” He pointed toward a forgotten swatch sample catalog under her elbow. “May I?”

His hand hovered deliciously close to her arm. For a moment, she thought he was asking for permission to touch her. Warmth swirled in her veins even as she realized he wanted to see her book.

“Of course!” She slid the heavy volume across the table, wondering if he meant to keep her off balance with this conversation. “Nantucket?”

How on earth would she get home? She’d have to take a plane or a ferry. She’d lose a whole day’s work because she’d stepped onto the wrong boat last night. Then again, was Keith Murphy interested in redecorating? Maybe she could salvage a job, at least.

“Yes.” He opened the book as smoothly as if he was in a boardroom on a business lunch and not chatting up a stowaway on his sailboat at four in the morning. “I’m taking the Vesta down to Charleston to sell it for my brother Jack.”

Josie tried to absorb that. Apparently, when you were a Murphy, you did things like that—sail boats around to sell them because you were so rich you could probably buy five more you liked better. She pictured her parents giving their wholehearted approval to Keith.

Not that she was thinking about dating him or anything. That would be a disaster waiting to happen, given his high-profile family. Besides, her parents’ stamp of approval was a dubious endorsement at best. She respected people who worked for their income.

“Well, I don’t want to hold you up or anything, but I should find my way back to the mainland before you head any farther south.” Even though this evening had been interesting, to say the least. Even though she still had the sense that something had happened between her and Keith before she awoke. Why else had she felt so turned on and twitchy when she opened her eyes?

“Of course.” He fingered a square of handmade Thai silk in her swatch book. “But would you mind waiting until daylight? I already furled the sails for the night and we’re far enough away from the mainland that it would take too long to motor in. After sailing single-handed for three hours and doing the family party before that, I’ve gotta say I’m beat.”

“Oh.” How awkward. “I’m sure you are tired. I can just…wait until you’re ready.”

She had a vision of herself watching him sleep, quickly followed by an even more rewarding vision of her tiring him out thoroughly so he could sleep even better. Mmm.

“But I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. We can radio in to the Coast Guard if it would make you more at ease about being out here with me.” He closed the book and met her gaze over the tabletop.

Green, she thought idly. His eyes were an unusual shade of golden-green. As she stared back at him, half-hypnotized by the leftover effects of her medicine and the vague memories of her dreams about him talking to her in her sleep, she felt heat crawl over her skin again. Warming her everywhere. Making her all too aware of Keith Murphy.

And keenly aware of how long it had been since she’d been with a man. Maybe if you suppressed your sex drive long enough, it took vengeance on you by going rogue at the sight of a hot guy. That would explain her fear that she’d launch herself onto him at any moment.

“That’s thoughtful of you, and I would appreciate it.” She focused on her words instead of her feelings, needing to maintain professional distance. “I was nervous about meeting a client on a strange boat at midnight anyhow, so I left messages with a few friends. They’ll be worried about me, since I never checked in again.”

He led her out of the salon toward the helm, where the radio equipment was housed. When they reached the companionway, which was slick with seawater, he extended an arm to steady her.

As Josie placed her palm on his strong forearm, she had the strangest sense this wasn’t the first time they’d touched. And even though her attraction to Keith was unwise, to say the least, she couldn’t help but wish it wouldn’t be the last time she’d feel him against her.

KEITH HAD FORMED a multimillion-dollar corporation on the strength of his people skills. But he’d never been more grateful for his one-on-one communication abilities than right here, right now.

Interior designer Josie Passano had the face of an angel, plus a wicked glint in her brown eyes, as if she were thinking about something altogether interesting. And Keith wanted to know her much, much better. But given their awkward introduction and the iffy proposition of spending the night on the boat together, he planned to play it safe until she felt more comfortable around him. Her reaction to him while she was sleeping gave him hope she wasn’t immune. But if he came on too strong now—when they were isolated in the middle of the Atlantic—she’d have every reason to be nervous. It’d be different if they’d met on dry land and he just wanted another date. Convincing her to sail down the coast with him for a little while presented a unique challenge, yet he was up for the task.

He had a few ideas for how to keep her around a little longer, but they all hinged on him not looking as if he was trying too hard. Lucky for him, he was taking his first vacation in years. There couldn’t be a better time to pencil in an affair—the first for him since he broke up with family friend Brooke Blaylock a year ago. Brooke’s insistence on being the life of the party at all times, causing a stir wherever she went, had been fun for a while. But his patience with the party crowd had worn thin—he was trying to build a business. Besides, he wanted clients to recognize his face from the business section, not the society pages.

Obviously, he was over Brooke by now. And more than ready to move on.

After they got in touch with the Coast Guard, he convinced Josie to take the berth in the front of the boat, while he slept in a bunk in the main salon. He hadn’t been lying about being exhausted, so she didn’t have to worry about him whispering suggestive ideas in her ear while she slept this time. Not that he wouldn’t be dreaming about doing those things to her.

“There should be spare toothbrushes in the bathroom cabinet,” he told her as he scrounged up clean towels and fresh sheets for the bed in the boat’s only true cabin. “My mom didn’t blink at the sight of blood or the regular trips to the E.R. that came with having five kids and a foster son, but she would have a conniption if we didn’t floss.”

Keith didn’t know where that odd bit of Murphy family lore had come from, but he was so tired he seemed to be running on autopilot.

“I’ll be fine,” Josie assured him, clutching the folded blue T-shirt he’d found for her to sleep in. “Thank you for helping me get in touch with the Coast Guard. My friends will sleep better knowing I wasn’t tossed overboard last night.”

The radio operator had been kind enough to text Josie’s assistant, even though it was above and beyond his duty. The guy had assured them it was a quiet night on his watch and he didn’t mind.

“Not a problem. You sure you’re feeling okay? No seasickness?” He’d been keeping an eye on her ever since she woke up, knowing the symptoms could come on quickly. But her color seemed good.

Everything about her, for that matter, seemed great. He liked her sexy dark eyes and the mischievous twist to her lips. He definitely liked the confident way she walked and the graceful way she moved. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“I feel steady.” She nodded as if to reassure him, and he realized it was his cue to leave. “I think the uneasy feeling earlier was just a by-product of exhaustion.”

His feet remained glued to the floor in the doorway. Damn, but he was usually more polished than this. He had a rep as the Murphy family charmer—the one who could talk anyone into anything. That skill had gotten him far in business, and it usually came through with women, as well. Why did smooth words elude him with Josie?

“I know this has been an unorthodox way to meet,” he started, going off script and surprising himself with words he hadn’t carefully prepared in his head first. “But it’s nice to know you, Josie Passano.”

He lingered, his eyes roving over her even when he’d instructed them not to. Where the hell were his people skills?

She grinned, dazzling him more than a little with the warmth of that smile.

“Nice to meet you, too, Keith.” Her head tipped to one side as she started to close the door, peeking out at him until the last moment. “Sorry to stow away on you like this.”

Watching her mouth move, he imagined what her lips would taste like. Vowed he’d find out for himself as soon as possible.

“No worries. As stowaways go, you were a pleasant surprise.” He heard his own voice hit a smoky note as he remembered talking to her earlier, while she’d been sleeping. Would his words come back to her tonight when she closed her eyes? “Sweet dreams, Josie.”

“You, too. ’Night.” Silently, she shut the door, leaving him staring at the barrier between him and the most interesting woman he’d come across in a long time.

In business, he never let any obstacle stand in his way. But what he felt for his unexpected guest was very, very personal. He would respect her boundaries tonight.

Tomorrow?

He had every intention of closing the deal.

3

MAYBE SHE’D READ a few too many romance novels over the years, but Josie couldn’t help lingering in the shower the next day, fantasizing provocative scenarios involving stowaways and sexy sea captains.

Didn’t the ship captain always insist on stashing his nubile female passenger in his quarters to protect her from his men? Of course, then he had to sleep in the cabin with her to keep an eye on her. Inevitably, he couldn’t keep his hands off her—an arrangement that led to page after page of scandalously delicious sex without the judgmental eyes of regular society looking on.

Standing there, with hot water streaming over her skin, Josie was grateful to the twenty-first century for all modern conveniences. But she wouldn’t mind a little time travel for the sake of some sensual play with her host. She’d dreamed about him last night, her overheated imagination conjuring vivid encounters between them. So much so, in fact, she was somewhat nervous about seeing him face-to-face today.

All that stuff she’d dreamed had seemed so real. In theory, she should simply accept her fantasies as a wake-up call to indulge her needs as a female more often, and perhaps work a bit less. That would be the grown-up, well-adjusted-woman’s reaction. But who was so well adjusted that she could ignore memories of a hot guy undressing her—inch by slow inch—with his teeth? She suspected she’d blush ten shades of pink when she saw him.

Switching off the water, she reached for a towel and dried herself, wondering how to ignore her unwise interest in Keith. The man surely ran in the same circles as her parents, or at the very least would recognize her family name. Would he know about her scandalous past if she’d introduced herself as Josie Davenport instead of Josie Passano? She’d taken her mother’s maiden name after the congressman scandal, glad to formalize her departure from the trust-fund lifestyle that she’d been raised in. She’d stayed out of the society pages for three years while she’d built the new business, letting Marlena attend any work-related events that might attract a tabloid element. The last thing Josie needed was to have her past dragged back out for the world to see before she made her interior design business a success with the regional TV show deal.

And, guaranteed, being seen around New York or Boston with someone like Keith would land her back in the spotlight she needed to avoid.

Yet for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like making the smart choice professionally. As she put on the navy T-shirt Keith had given her the night before, along with her own jeans, she acknowledged that she wanted to live out all the things she’d dreamed about with him. What her subconscious didn’t seem to comprehend was that she would find a man to have a fling with, and let off a little steam. Really, she would. But Keith should not be that guy.

She towel dried her hair and dredged up some lip gloss and moisturizer from her purse. When she looked halfway presentable, and wasn’t actively fantasizing about Keith’s mouth on her…

Whoops.

Trying again to clear her mind, she shoved her other clothes in an empty grocery sack she’d found folded in a bathroom drawer. Taking the sack and her purse with her, she wound her way through the quiet salon and galley toward the companionway, where daylight spilled down into the lower level.

Voices above drew her attention.

“Keith?” she called, stepping up the first stair.

Who could he be speaking to in the middle of the sea? Had the Coast Guard come to check on them after their radio call last night?

“Morning.” Keith appeared at the top of the stairs, freshly shaved. Dressed in faded gray cargo shorts and a white polo shirt layered over a white T-shirt, he looked clean and…delicious.

She felt her cheeks warm and knew a blush had colored her skin from the roots of her hair to her neckline. Damn it.

At least she’d gotten it out of the way, right?

“Good morning.” Stepping up onto the main deck, she discovered they weren’t anchored out in the middle of nowhere anymore. “I see you did some sailing while I was sleeping again.” The boat—the Vesta, he’d called it—was already docked on the little island of Nantucket. She’d been there enough times to recognize the south wharf with the rows of gray, cedar-sided cottages lining nearby docks.

Gentle waves rocked their sailboat in time with all the other watercraft in nearby slips. The view, while pretty, made her realize she wouldn’t have been any better at discerning one vessel from another in the light of day. Now, if they redid their sails in purple paisley or muted floral chintz, she’d be all set.

And, yikes, didn’t that sound like something her mom would say, martini glass in hand as she strolled around the deck?

“I woke up early and figured you would just as soon be docked when you opened your eyes. I pulled into the marina about half an hour ago.” He took the bag of clothes and settled it on a seat cushion near the helm.

As a warm breeze lifted her damp hair off her shoulders, she noticed he’d already relocated her design books to the same canvas bolster.

So eager to be rid of her? Disappointment outweighed her relief that a separation would ensure no one resurrected her old scandal by photographing them together.

“Then I won’t keep you.” She dug in her purse for her business cards. “I’m sure you’re anxious to get under way on your trip, and I’m sorry to have slowed you down.” Finding the sterling silver case, she handed him a card.

Frowning, he took the cream-colored linen stock bearing the logo that Marlena had designed as one of her first projects as an intern.

“I’m in no hurry.” He tucked the card into the pocket of his shorts. “In fact, I’d hoped to buy you breakfast by way of apology for the, uh…accidental kidnapping. I figure if I can bribe you with eggs and sausage, you’ll be less likely to press charges.”

Pleasure warmed her to her toes while she weighed the probability of anyone recognizing Keith in Nantucket. While she debated the question, a young family pulled a big powerboat into the slip beside them. A boy and a girl—both knee-high and dressed in navy-and-white-striped T-shirts—waved from either side of their mother, while their dad steered the craft into place. “I am hungry,” Josie admitted. “But I’m afraid I’m just as guilty as you, since I was the trespasser last night. If anything, I should probably be buying you breakfast.”

Or dinner, maybe, after an afternoon of acrobatic sex that left them both ravenous. The thought heated her cheeks again, warming her all over in spite of the mild sea breeze. Now why had she said that? Sharing a meal in public with him was a risky proposition at any time. Hadn’t she promised herself she was done dating guys who attracted tabloid interest? She had no desire to dredge up her “party-girl” past, after working hard to bury that image.

Although she couldn’t help but be miffed that she’d earned the rep without any of the fun it implied. She’d networked her butt off on those nightclub outings, pitching her fashions to the social elite. She’d hoped to catch a few trendy clients who didn’t mind taking a risk on a new designer. One of her few impulsive moves during that time had been a kiss in a back alley with a cute guy who’d flirted with her relentlessly. All the other pictures the media had gathered to create the “party-girl” montage had been from her rebellious teenage years, before she’d channeled her energies into productive creativity.

“Hmm. I don’t think any judge would see much of a threat in a five-foot trespasser bearing fifty pounds of design swatches.” Keith hopped out onto the dock to help the speedboat owner with the young family tie his craft to a cleat. “But how about we debate it over coffee?”

He flashed white teeth, his easy charm drawing her toward him in spite of herself.

“I’m five foot three, actually.” Leaving her books behind, she stepped onto the dock, while the kids in the striped shirts and their mom came closer to the bow to watch Keith tie the line. “And I happen to have great aim with a can of Mace, although since I was drugged at the time, I probably didn’t pose much danger.”

Finishing the knot, Keith reached up to give each of the preschoolers a high five. Turning to Josie, he held out his arm.

“Are you ready?”

Her heart sped foolishly, even as she told herself they were only sharing a couple of eggs in the most out-of-the-way restaurant she could find. One meal together and she’d head for home.

“Absolutely.” Ready to battle the unwise attraction long enough to thank him for delivering her safely to shore, she dropped her fingers into the crook of his elbow.

This would be like any other friendly networking meeting, she told herself. But as her skin tingled from that small, casual touch, Josie feared her body was ready to betray her good intentions at the slightest provocation.

AN HOUR OF BREAKING BREAD with Josie had yielded a wealth of useful information about her. They hadn’t found a restaurant still serving breakfast at noon, so they’d settled for sandwiches and microbrews at a quiet local pub.

Now, while they finished off the last of the beer and waited for the check, Keith steered the conversation back to his discovery that she was as much a workaholic as he’d been up until this week. Apparently, she’d worked in the fashion industry after college, then taken a job at a large interior-decorating firm before starting her own company eighteen months ago.

“So, you know, I’m taking a vacation for the first time in three years.” He kept his empty longneck in his hand, hoping the waitress would be slow to return, since he still wanted to learn more about the woman across from him in the tall, private booth. “When’s the last time you took a stab at some rest and relaxation?”

“Hmm.” She played with the unused knife near her plate, flipping the heavy piece over and over on the scarred wood table. A series of skinny silver bands covered her ring finger right up to the knuckle. “I went to Mexico with some girlfriends before I started at that big interior-design firm, so that would be…two and a half years ago.”

Nearby, a busboy juggled drinks for a corner table full of older women who’d ordered a big, candle-covered birthday cake a little while ago.