Hot August Nights

The man wasn’t just solid. His body felt as hard as concrete. Even his fingers felt as if they had no give at all when they automatically locked around her upper arms to keep her upright.

Beneath her hand, she felt the steady beat of his heart.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m…fine.” She was aware of the scowl in his voice, more aware of the heat wherever her body touched his. Each little point of contact seemed to physically burn—her palm where it had flattened against his chest, her arm where it lay against his. “I just got up too quickly.”

She shifted, getting her footing, trying to ease back.

Still holding her by one arm, he picked up the bottle of wine and tipped it. The scowl deepened. “Was this full?”

“It was when I opened it.”

“You sat out here and drank half a bottle by yourself?”

She was tempted to point out that he could have joined her. He just didn’t give her a chance. His frown had settled hard on her mouth. The displeasure carved in his face seemed to be slowly fading, though. It turned to something that looked far more like curiosity. And heat.

The air in her lungs went thin. She wasn’t sure she was even breathing when his eyes finally locked on hers once more.

“Give me your keys.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your keys,” he repeated, finally deliberately letting her go. “You’re not driving anywhere.”

She had already realized that she’d had more wine than could be considered wise. She’d realized, too, that his power to rattle her went a tad beyond anything she might be able to physically control. Yet, all she truly cared about at the moment was that he was the third person that day to tell her what she couldn’t do.

Curling her fingers around her key ring, she tipped her chin, reminded herself not to be intimidated and politely said, “No.”

The sound he made leaned heavily toward exasperation. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” she replied ever so reasonably. “You asked for my keys. I said no. End of discussion.”

“It might be the end of the discussion, but it’s not the end of the issue.” The determination in his eyes met the uncharacteristic stubbornness in hers. “Don’t make me have to take them.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to,” she informed him.

Her tone mild, her expression faintly mutinous, she slipped her hand under her jacket, beneath her blouse and tucked them into her bra. She was perfectly capable of keeping her keys in her possession while she figured out how to get home without driving there herself. She wasn’t drunk, but she doubted she could walk a perfectly straight line, either. The last thing she wanted was to be stopped for driving under the influence. Worse, harm someone in an accident she caused. The press would have a field day with that one.

Remembering that the press was always out there, lying in wait for some mistake in judgement or unguarded comment to exploit, did nothing but add another layer to the sense of frustration she was beginning to feel with her life. Or, so she was thinking when Matt’s glance slipped to the V of flesh between the lapels of her jacket.

Seconds ago, he had sounded considerably less than pleased with the position he found himself in. Now, with her keys nestled between her breast and her bra, he simply seemed intrigued by it.

“Now, that’s a move I never would have expected of you.”

“Maybe I’m tired of doing what’s expected,” she murmured, a little surprised by it herself. “Chalk it up to a bad day.”

“All the more reason for you to not get behind a wheel. And by the way,” he said, his voice surprisingly patient, “I wasn’t implying that you had to stay here. If you give me your keys, I’ll drive you.”

There was a deep cleft in his upper lip. Realizing she was staring at it, hoping he didn’t, she jerked her glance up. “All the way to Richmond?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a hotel. There’s a Hyatt right down the road.”

“It wouldn’t look right to check into a hotel without luggage.”

Especially if someone recognized me, she thought.

Having encountered yet another thing she couldn’t do, she picked up the goblet. Since she wasn’t driving, there was no reason not to finish what was in it. It was far too good a vintage to let it go to waste.

Watching her, looking unwillingly intrigued, Matt narrowed his eyes. “Why was it such a bad day?”

“It wasn’t really that bad. Not in the overall scheme of things,” she qualified. It really hadn’t been any worse than any other. Except for running into him, it hadn’t even been unlike any other.

She glanced toward the sky, wondering if she’d find a full moon. That might help explain the odd sense of dissatisfaction that had sunk its claws into her.

She didn’t see the moon at all.

“It was just…frustrating.”

“Because your brother didn’t show?”

That sounded so petty. And it was. But it wasn’t any one thing getting to her. It was the accumulation.

“Among other things,” she murmured.

There was a time when Matt would have told himself to let it go. To pack her into a cab and get her out of there. This was the woman who had backed away from him every time he’d come within ten feet of her, who had barely said a word to him even when he’d gone out of his way to get her to speak. From the time he’d first laid eyes on her, when she’d been all legs and long hair and all of fourteen, she’d done everything but twitch her nose to disappear in order to avoid him.

He could have sworn she had intended to continue to treat him like one of the great unwashed when she’d first arrived. Yet, it seemed that he had misread her. She didn’t seem at all intent on avoiding him now.

He watched her swirl the pale liquid. Her expression pensive, her thoughts clearly troubled, she seemed far different from the untouchable little princess he’d last seen nearly ten years ago. There was no mistaking her polish or refinement. There was a grace about her that went beyond the impeccable clothes and flawless skin. Yet, even looking as privileged as she truly was, she seemed softer to him, more…touchable.

In the muted light spilling through the windows, her hair looked like pale silk. The way she had it caught at the back of her head fairly taunted a man to undo the intricate clasp restraining it, free it to tumble over her shoulders. And her skin. In the shadows it looked as smooth and perfect as marble. Her eyes were what drew him, though, the gentleness he saw there.

Curious, taunted by a vulnerability he never would have expected, he heard himself ask, “Like what?”

“Well for one thing,” she said, looking as if she might be struggling to admit it, “I’ve discovered that I lack…guts.”

“Guts?”

“You know. Nerve.”

Fascinated by the admission, he watched her frown.

“Anything in particular you want this nerve for?”

“To do something freeing.”

“Freeing?”

The pinch of her delicate forehead deepened, her pensive expression making him wonder if the wine might be making her a little more thoughtful, or more candid, than she might have otherwise been.

“Make that something…outrageous.”

“For instance?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Looking very much as if she were only now considering it, she moved to the railing and lifted the goblet toward the dark water. “Maybe taking that boat and heading off where no one could find me.”

“You sail?”

She shook her head, turned her glance back to the water. A faint breeze tugged at her hair, loosening a few of the shorter strands around her face. “Not without a crew. And that would defeat the whole purpose.”

“That’s not outrageous. That’s just escape.” He recognized that need easily enough. He’d just never expected that she would feel it. “Next choice?”

“How about throwing my dinner at the next waiter who interrupts eight times to ask if everything is prepared to my liking?”

“A food fight at Four Seasons. Yeah,” he muttered, nodding as he considered. “That might be a little shocking.” He smiled. “What else?”

She pondered for a moment, clearly searching for what, for her, would be scandalous behavior. “Skinny-dipping.”

His glance cut to where she stood at the rail. He didn’t know how tall she was. Five-five maybe, without the heels that brought her to his chin. But he had no trouble estimating the size and proportion of the rest of her slender, supple-looking body.

He’d been conscious of her since the moment he’d opened the front door. He had not, however, been prepared for the jolt of pure physical awareness he’d felt when he’d caught her by the arms moments ago. He’d barely had his hands on her, barely breathed in her subtle, faintly erotic scent and every nerve in his body had gone on alert. Then, she’d looked up at him and his glance had settled on the gentle part of her lips. Her lush mouth had looked soft, moist and as ripe as a peach. And the prospect of tasting her had turned certain parts of his anatomy as hard as stone.

“You think you’d do that?” he asked casually.

“No.” She sounded disappointed. “But it sounds like something that would take nerve.”

“For some people.”

“Have you done it?”

He lifted one shoulder in an offhanded shrug. “The water’s warm in Tahiti.”

Ashley’s glance moved from his broad shoulders to his narrows hips, then jerked back to where the low security lights made shadows on the boat in the distance. She had a profound appreciation for art in all its forms and his body, magnificently, gloriously naked would definitely be a work of art. As for experiencing the freedom of being naked in the water herself, she couldn’t imagine the sheer lack of inhibition doing something like that would take.

At the moment, growing more relaxed by the wine, protected by the darkness, she realized she truly hated being inhibited.

“What does it feel like? Being that…free.”

She felt rather than saw the faint lift of his shoulder above hers. “Good, I guess.”

“I mean really.” She waved her glass toward the vast darkness beyond them. “How does it feel to not care about convention and just go where the moment leads you?”

“What makes you think I know?”

She knew he did. Actually, she was dead sure of it. Her memory about why that was just seemed a little fuzzy at the moment. And, as relaxed as she was and, surprisingly, not feeling nervous at all, it didn’t seem to matter anyway. “You don’t?”

Matt reached over, slipped the glass from her fingers. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you.” He took a swallow of wine. Rather than handing the goblet back, he kept it for himself. “In your mind, is going for a swim without a suit the most outrageous thing you could do?”

He spoke quietly, thoughtfully, as if he really wanted to know her secrets. As if learning them might tell him something he had always wanted to know.

The thought that he might have always wanted to know more about her drew her eyes to the shadowed angles of his face. The years had carved character into his compelling features and made him far more dangerous than he had ever been in his reckless youth. Dangerous because he was far easier to talk to than she ever would have imagined. Dangerous because he drew her in ways she didn’t totally understand, didn’t trust and at the moment really didn’t care to consider.

Looking from the sensual line of his mouth, wondering if it would feel as hard as it looked, she could easily think of something far more shocking than diving naked into a pool. For her, anyway.

“No,” she heard herself quietly admit. “It’s not.”

“So, what is?”

She shook her head. The thought of curving her arms around his neck, stretching herself up against his chest and thighs and unabashedly kissing him felt bold enough. No way would she say it aloud. Especially no way could she tell him that, at that moment, what she would really like to do was tug off his sweater and let her hands roam over all those beautiful muscles. She’d never fantasized about seducing a man before, but if she were to do it, he would definitely be her fantasy.

Realizing she was fantasizing, her eyes widened. Dragging her glance from his mouth, she heard Matt chuckle. The deep delicious sound washed over her like the caress of warm velvet.

“Come on,” he gently coaxed. “In vino veritas.”

“In wine there is truth,” she translated, smiling. “That does seem to be true.” She’d already exposed far more of herself to him than she had anyone else. “But some things are definitely better admitted only to oneself.”

“But I already know you have a deep-seated wish to throw food and swim naked.”

“That’s just between you and me.” She quickly glanced up, her eyes suddenly serious. “Okay?”

“I won’t tell a soul.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he replied, and reached over to tuck back the strands of hair that curved by her mouth.

His touch was light, oddly reassuring and, at that moment, felt like the most natural thing in the world. It seemed strange that she should feel such certainty about him, but she didn’t doubt that she could trust him with everything she said. Not once in all the years he’d known her brother had he ever said a word about a Kendrick that had shown up in print.

Even in the lovely fog relaxing her body and mind, she knew that alone was worth its weight in platinum.

His hand slowly fell. Over the tranquil lap of water, she heard the faint clink of the goblet touching wood as he set it on the railing ledge.

“So.” His eyes glittered on her face, down the line of her throat.

“So,” she murmured back, feeling strangely warm everywhere his glance touched.

“Are you going to give me those keys or not?”

She swallowed, drawn by that delicious heat, drawn by him.

“I hadn’t planned on it.”

Humor glinted in his eyes, tugged the corner of his mouth. “Do I have to go after them?”

Her heart bumped her breastbone. The thought of his big hand slipping inside her jacket and inside her bra pooled that heat low in her belly.

“You wouldn’t.” She swallowed, thinking she should feel far more alarmed than she did by the thought. Or, at least, alarmed by the jolt of anticipation it brought. “Would you?”

He edged closer, making her tip her head back farther to look up at him. His grin was as seductive as the deliciously dark tones of his voice when he slipped his fingers along her jaw. “There’s something you need to know about me, Ashley.”

His head descended, making her pulse leap, her breath go shallow.

“What’s that?”

His mouth hovered inches from hers. “I’ve always found it hard to resist a challenge. Right now,” he said in response to her claim, “yes, I would. And not because I’m in any hurry to get you out of here.”

The heat of his body seemed to radiate toward hers, surrounding her, drawing her closer. She wasn’t in any hurry to leave, either. “Oh,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” His breath caressed her cheek. His lips brushed hers, the touch light, incredibly tender and far too brief. “Oh.”

Lifting his head far enough to see her eyes, he waited to see what she would do.

When all she did was draw a shivery breath, his head dipped again and he covered her mouth with his.

Ashley’s first thought was that his lips weren’t anywhere near as hard as they looked. They were soft, warm and, when his tongue touched hers, the shock of that small invasion turned her insides liquid and threatened to turn her legs to mush.

He kissed her slowly, deeply, his unimaginable gentleness melting her bones by slow degrees. He eased her closer, his touch feeling far more like promise than demand. It occurred to her vaguely that she had never been kissed the way he was kissing her. It was almost as if he could be perfectly content to simply savor the shape of her mouth, her taste, and let her decide just how much more she wanted.

She sagged toward him, opened to him a little more, wanting more of the promise. Or, maybe, it was the feel of his hand and its gentle pressure at the small of her back that had her flattening herself against him as she had imagined only moments ago. She wasn’t entirely sure. Lost in the sensations, in the haze, she wasn’t even sure it mattered.

All she knew for certain was that she hadn’t wanted his mouth to leave hers when he trailed a path of moist heat along her jaw to the sensitive shell of her ear.

“Are you going to tell me what you were thinking?” He whispered the words, his warm breath causing a delicious shiver to race along her sensitized nerves.

She let her head fall to the side, giving him better access. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin.

“Then just tell me if I’m getting hot or cold.” His voice darkened, grew more intimate. “Did it have anything to do with this?”

His lips trailed down her neck, touched the pulse pounding between her collarbones.

“Warm,” she murmured.

“And this?” He lifted his head, brushed his lips over hers, the sensation deliciously teasing.

“Warmer.”

His mouth still hovered over hers when he lifted her hand, pressed it to his chest and murmured, “This?”

Her heart jerked. “Maybe.”

“Hot or cold?”

As close as he was, every breath she drew brought his breath into her lungs. “Hot,” she whispered.

“Do you still want to do something no one would ever expect of you?”

Slipping her hand over hard muscle, the feel of it drawing her closer still, she smiled. “I’m not going skinny-dipping.”

“I wasn’t even going to suggest it. The water’s too cold.”

“What, then?”

“Ever make love in a sailboat?”

She didn’t know what she said. She didn’t know if she said anything at all. As she raised up on tiptoe and lifted her lips to his, she just knew that while she didn’t have the nerve to seduce him, she had no problem at all with him seducing her.

Chapter Two

Ashley should have known something would go wrong. When it came to something she needed to have go well, it almost always did. That was why she drove herself nuts trying to imagine every possible disaster and come up with a plan to cope with it. Especially when there were cameras around.

She stared across the ballroom of the Richmond Bay Yacht Club, her heart beating in her throat and her grip tight on the podium. Even with her totally obsessive attention to detail, she hadn’t considered this particular possibility. Since she’d slipped from her brother’s house last Wednesday morning, not an hour had gone by that she hadn’t felt shocked to the core by what she had allowed to happen with Matt Callaway—or prayed that it would be at least another ten years before their paths crossed again.

She’d made it three days. He’d just risen from one of the tables at the back of the room.

She had just auctioned off the last item of the night—a weekend in Aspen that had gone for eight thousand dollars. It had been the highest bid of the evening, the frosting on the proverbial cake for the gala dinner and auction to benefit the East Coast Shelter Project. Enthusiastic applause rang through the crowded and glittering room of beautifully gowned and tuxedoed guests.

She barely heard it.

Looking totally at ease in black tie and cummerbund, Matt moved toward the middle of the tables. He drew the eye of every female he passed. The men noticed him, too. The aura of quiet power surrounding him had them all sitting taller, straightening their shoulders as males who competed for money or power often did when faced with a prime example of their own.

With an easy smile, he motioned to the assistant handling the portable microphone.

Ashley had long ago learned to cover nerves with grace, disappointment with a smile, challenge with composure. Now was definitely not the time to forget what she’d been taught. Not with the society editor of the Richmond Times-Dispatch and five hundred of the wealthiest and most influential citizens in Virginia as witnesses.

Applause was still ringing when other guests began to turn in the direction of her frozen stare.

“Before you conclude the auction, Miss Kendrick. I’d like to bid on one last item.”

Matt’s rich, deep voice filled the ballroom. Applause quieted. Conversations died.

Ashley made herself smile as her own microphone carried her voice back to him. “I’m afraid those were all the donations we had. There isn’t anything left.”

“Sure there is.” His tone was deceptively, good-natured. Almost dangerously so. “There’s you.”

She could swear her heart stopped. Sheer will kept her tone unremarkable. “I beg your pardon?”

“You,” he repeated easily. “I’ll bid fifty thousand dollars for you to actually help build a Shelter Project house yourself.”

Murmurs rolled through the crowd as the cream of Virginia society looked from the undeniably attractive man casually holding the mike to where she stood on the dais in her strapless pink gown.

Over the years, Ashley had learned to pretend an ease that was never truly present in public. She madly pretended that ease now as the low rumble of speculation and approval faded to expectant silence.

With a thousand eyes on her, aware mostly of the steel-gray pair locked hard on hers, two thoughts collided in her mind. Under no circumstances did she want to do anything to embarrass herself or her family. And she would give half of her sizable trust fund to have never behaved so irresponsibly with a man who obviously still behaved irresponsibly himself.

“Mr. Callaway,” she said, feeling frantic, feigning calm. “Your bid is most generous.” Pride and duty nudged hard. So did a rather desperate need to get him away from that microphone. “I would be more than happy to work on a Shelter Project house.”

“Start to finish,” he qualified. “You have to stick around to see it through. You can’t just show up, then disappear.”

He was too far away for her to see the challenge she felt certain must be glinting in his compelling eyes. But she didn’t doubt it was there. She could practically feel it radiating toward her. She could hear it, too. An edge had slipped into his tone that indicated far more meaning in his last words than what anyone else was likely to hear.

You can’t just show up, then disappear.

He was angry. At the very least, it seemed he’d been offended by what she had done. Or, more likely, what she hadn’t. She hadn’t wakened him before she’d left. She hadn’t left a note. She hadn’t done anything but hurry away before he could wake up and see that she was not at all like the woman who had eventually pulled off his sweater, unzipped his jeans and played out her little fantasy of feeling totally unrestrained.

Embarrassed to death by what had happened, she hadn’t returned the call he’d made to her office the next day, either.

“Tell you what,” he said, “you see it through and I’ll make it a hundred thousand.”

Low gasps went up around the room. Regatta Week in Richmond drew the movers and shakers, old money and new, and anyone who was anybody spent with abandon. Yet, even that rather exclusive crowd seemed impressed by the sum. Or, maybe, what impressed them was Matt’s nerve.

Determined not to lose hers, she glanced around the room. Her expression as good-natured as her tone, her stomach in knots, she asked, “Are there any other bids?”

A smattering of laughter drifted through the room as guests craned their necks to see who might want to top him.

It seemed no one wanted to steal his thunder. Either that, or they’d maxed out on their charitable spending for the night.

With all the other items, she had rapped her small gavel against its block when the item had been won. It was a fair sign of how rattled Matt had her that she forgot the gavel now. “Then, one hundred thousand it is.”

Matt’s golden head dipped in a deferential nod.

The flash of a camera caught her as the crowd burst into enthusiastic applause for the unprecedented bid. The goal of raising a quarter of a million dollars to build adequate housing for the working poor had not only been met. It had just been quite handsomely exceeded.