More Than A Vow: Vows of Revenge / After Their Vows / Vows Made in Secret

“How did you get into security software development?” Melodie asked, nearly prompting a sarcastic “really?” out of him.

He didn’t allow himself to be suckered by her solemn expression of interest. It struck him that she might not be here to steal, merely to damage. Her family had threatened to use his background to discredit him once before. They wouldn’t be above trying it again. Perhaps she intended to sabotage his hosting of the wedding, removing his chance to grow acquainted with the world’s top influencers.

He met her quietly lethal question head-on, neutralizing any bombshells she might be poised to detonate by getting there first.

“I was arrested at fourteen for hacking into a bank’s network server.”

“Are you serious, Roman?” Ingrid cried on a gasp of intrigue, cutlery rattling onto the edge of her plate. “I had no idea,” she exclaimed, eyes wide with delight in the scandal. “You’re getting information out of him I never did, Mel!”

Melodie’s ridiculously long lashes swept down in a hint of shy pleasure, betraying that she enjoyed the thought of having power over him.

Irritated by the amount of truth in Ingrid’s remark—Melodie was the reason he was going against habit and bringing up his past—Roman finished the story. If it left this table he was determined it would be framed as closely to the truth as possible, and not twisted to annihilate him the way Melodie’s father had threatened.

“Once I realized I could outsmart adults, the game was on to see how far I could go,” he said frankly. “The security specialist who caught me, a tough ex-marine named Charles, was impressed, especially because I was self-taught. Once I did my stint in juvenile detention, he brought me onto his payroll. Taught me how to use my talent for good instead of evil,” he summed up with mild derision.

Melodie’s surprise appeared genuine.

“You weren’t expecting honesty?” he challenged.

“It’s not that. I’ve just never met anyone with a natural ability for programming.” A shadow flickered behind her eyes, something he barely caught, but it colored her voice as she said, “I thought that sort of thing was a myth.”

She was talking about her brother, he was certain of it, but her smile wasn’t sly. She wasn’t trying to trick him or win him over. No, her comment was more of an inward reflection and a hint of confusion. Wondering if Anton was really as good as he’d always claimed?

Hardly.

As quickly as Roman formed the impression, her expression changed and he was looking at a different woman, one who seemed open and engaging, her cares forgotten in favor of enjoying a lively conversation.

“I’m certainly not intuitive with them. Someone had to show me how to set up my email on my tablet.”

And there was the “I’m harmless” claim Roman had been anticipating since he had realized who she was.

The conversation moved on to contacts and wedding arrangements. Iced coffees replaced the white wine everyone had sipped with lunch. Huxley said something about the dock and took Ingrid to inspect it.

Melodie made no move to follow, choosing instead to shift forward slightly and remove her sweater, revealing a matching sleeveless top that clung lovingly to her breasts as she twisted to drape the sweater over the back of her chair.

“I didn’t expect it to be this warm. It’s fall at home. Quite wet and chilly.” She sat straight and, as if she felt the chill across the Atlantic, her nipples rose against the pale lemon of her top.

A base male fantasy of baring those breasts formed in his mind. He saw pink tips resembling cherries melting off scoops of ice cream. He wasn’t a breast man per se, but the languid image of caressing and licking the swells, working his way to the sweet, shiny niblet at the peak, was so tangible he had to part his thighs to accommodate the pool of erotic heat that poured into his groin.

At the same time he realized conversation had stopped. She was very still.

He lazily brought his gaze up and realized she’d caught him blatantly ogling her. A strange jolt hit him like an electrical charge, deep in his gut and far stronger than a zing of static. It was like a full current that reverberated in his chest, making his heart skip a beat and his abdomen tighten.

Her blue eyes held his, fathomless and not the least offended. In fact, her reaction to his masculine interest was arousal. He’d seen it in the tightening of her nipples and read it now in the confused shimmer of excitement and indecision expanding her pupils. Her lashes quivered, eyes shiny, and the tip of her tongue wet her lips.

The pull behind his thighs became more insistent. He wondered if he had ever experienced a more carnal moment.

She swallowed and jerked her gaze from his as though it was a physical wrench of muscle from bone.

He mentally berated himself for letting her see his interest, highly irritated by how easily she had got to him. It was time to drop the ax.

“Does, um, he come around the office much?” she asked, gaze scanning restlessly toward the water. “Are you used to their displays?”

“Who?” he almost growled, then remembered two other people were here. Ingrid and Huxley. They held hands and bumped shoulders as they staggered, love drunk, across the sand.

Roman was behaving almost as inebriated, forgetting they were even here, manufacturing lurid fantasies of possessing a woman too lethal to imbibe. He tried to shrug away the strongest wave of sexual attraction he’d ever felt toward a woman and almost wondered if she’d slipped him something.

“He might, but I don’t,” he replied belatedly, forcing his mind back to the conversation. “The whole point in being on the cutting edge of technology is to use it.” He chinned upward to his office, rebaiting his hook. “I often telecommute.”

“And Ingrid is your avatar in New York?” she guessed.

That took him by surprise. He almost chuckled, then caught himself, dismayed by how easily she kept disarming him. He eyed her, searching for the source of her power. “I hadn’t looked at it that way. I suppose she is.”

“Working from home always seemed so ideal to me,” she mused, propping her chin on her hand. “But now I’m doing it, I find I’m becoming a workaholic, never letting it go. I keep sitting down for one more thing and losing another two hours.”

“You live alone, then,” he said, picking up on what he thought she wanted him to deduce. It shouldn’t please him to hear she was single. She was nothing to him, certainly not a woman he’d bed. Not in these circumstances. Perhaps his libido found her leggy build stimulating. That faint scent of citrus and roses emanating from her skin was pure seduction, but as much as he hated her family and wanted revenge, he wouldn’t stoop to grudge sex. He didn’t intend to touch her.

She could go ahead and offer herself, though. Rejecting her advances would make for a delightful twist. He wondered if she’d take this game of hers that far, and decided he would make it easy for her to humiliate herself.

A pulse of expectancy tugged at him.

This was a chess match, not a flirtation, he reminded himself.

“I do,” she answered, fingertips grazing the pearls at her throat where he thought he saw her pulse fibrillating. Her glance went to the house. He suspected she was mentally recalling whether she’d seen evidence of a paramour in there. She hadn’t. He kept his companions out of his private space.

“Me, too,” he provided.

Melodie’s flushed cheeks darkened with a deeper blush as she cut a glance toward him, perhaps trying to work out whether his remark was a signal of attraction.

There was no use pretending otherwise. She’d already caught him lusting, so he let her see that, yes, something in him found her appealing. He didn’t understand how it could happen when he held her in such contempt, but he rather enjoyed the fact that she was so disconcerted by her own response as she read his interest. Her reaction was too visceral to be fake, which was probably why he was aroused by it.

It was a bad case of misguided chemistry. She certainly wasn’t desirable to his rational mind, but maybe it was the risk of the situation that he found compelling. He’d developed a taste for plundering in his early years. Not of women. He was actually very cautious with how he approached relationships, but he loved finessing his way past defenses, exposing closely guarded secrets. He liked to prove he could. It filled him with enormous satisfaction.

“Where is home?” he asked. He’d read the answer yesterday, but he liked seeing how his attention put her in a state of conflicted sexual awareness.

“Virginia,” she answered, smile not sticking. “For now. I’m considering a move to New York, though.”

“Don’t bother,” he said instinctively, then closed his mouth in distaste at reacting so revealingly. “It’s a perfectly livable city, but I don’t care for it,” he said in explanation. “More than my share of unpleasant memories,” he added, to see if she’d pick up that the filthiest ones involved her family. Others were so heartbreaking he pushed them to the furthest reaches of his mind.

She only murmured, “I feel like that about Virginia.”

Her tone exactly reflected his feelings, as though she’d opened the curtain and stepped inside the narrow space where he stored his soul. It was so disturbing he bristled, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Her wrinkled brow relaxed and she forced a cheerful smile. “I need a fresh start. And you’ve inspired me now with your talk of telecommuting. Tell me how you manage it. Ingrid said you’re a global company, so I assume you travel a lot? I expect I will, too, as I become more established. What are the pitfalls and best practices?”

She was very smooth in her way of bringing the conversation back to his business. He had to admire her for her dogged stealth.

“The happy couple is returning,” he noted, avoiding answering by directing her attention to where Ingrid and Huxley had stopped at the far end of the pool, admiring the view of the beach.

Ingrid glanced at him, and he inferred that a consultation was requested.

He stood and held Melodie’s chair, getting another eyeful of her breasts, not intentionally, but he was a man and they were right there.

Her sultry cloud of scent filled his nostrils, imprinting him with the image of marble and turquoise and sunlight off dishes so he would never forget this moment of standing here, her lithe frame straightening before him. She had a slender waist and hips he longed to grip so he could press forward, bend her to his will, cover and possess. He had to school himself against setting a proprietary hand on her back as they moved to where the bride and groom were debating logistics.

What the hell was it about her?

She moved with remarkable grace, he noted. Not so much skinny as long limbed. A thoroughbred. Not a mutt like he was. If he didn’t have so much contempt for her bloodline, he might have questioned whether he was good enough for her.

Instead, he was the one with ethics while her sort wore an air of superiority that was only a surface veneer of respectability provided by old money. Perhaps she wasn’t overt about thinking herself better than those around her, not the way her father had been, and perhaps she didn’t act entitled, but she was among her own with Ingrid and Huxley. She took it for granted she was accepted. He couldn’t help but appreciate that confidence.

“Would the guests moor here overnight?” Huxley asked.

“That’s up to Mr. Killian,” Melodie deferred, turning to him.

“Roman, please,” he said drily. She could use his first name until he made his position clear, which would be about five minutes from now. “There’s a shoal to be wary of,” he said to Huxley, stepping forward so he could point.

He was fully aware of Melodie’s proximity to his own. He had no intention of bumping her, though, and actually reached out absently to ensure he didn’t.

Melodie was the one who recoiled in surprise, taking a hasty step backward.

He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, heard her squeak of shock and snatched again, more deliberately.

She was already tipping backward. He missed her, tried again. Their fingertips brushed, but he failed to catch her. Her face pulled into a cringe as she fell backward into the deep end of the pool. Roman stepped back from the splash and stared at her one shoe caught in the grate.

CHAPTER THREE

ONCE MELODIE REALIZED her fall was inevitable, she let it happen, only splaying out her arms and holding her breath. Above her, through the rippled water, three blurry faces stared. Roman was throwing off his jacket and looking as if he might dive in.

She let herself sink, waiting until her foot tapped the bottom, then kicked herself back to the surface.

What an idiotic thing to do!

But that damned Roman had been throwing her for a complete loop, being all masculine and sexy, sending mixed messages of lust and disapproval, hovering next to her like a raptor, smelling tangy and male. She’d been standing next to him, admiring his build, thinking his voice was too hypnotic, when he’d reached toward her as if he knew she was there, as if he was a lover searching for the hand of his mate.

Her reaction had been startled fear that she’d betray how thoroughly he was affecting her if he touched her. She’d jerked back and...

“Pah!” she spat as she came up for air. “You might want to change the design of that grate before the wedding. Either that or we advise all the women to skip the stilettoes and wear flip-flops.”

Ingrid and Huxley laughed unreservedly. Roman wore a more severe look.

It wasn’t easy to tread water in a narrow skirt. Her second shoe came off as she kicked toward the edge.

Roman squatted as she reached for the lip of the pool. His strong hand grasped her forearm, dragging her closer whether she wanted his help or not. His other hand got hold of her opposite arm and he pulled her up and out of the pool as though she was a teensy ballerina, not a five-foot-ten mermaid pushing a hundred and thirty pounds. Soaking wet, she added with a private cringe.

Water sluiced off her, and she rather wished he had let her take stock before landing her in front of him, dripping and plastered with wet clothes, not a single thing left to the imagination. Her makeup had to be running and— Okay, good. Her pearls were still here, but seriously. She felt absurd.

She crossed her arms to hide the way her nipples hardened and risked a quick sweep of her gaze around the faces goggling at her. Ingrid was still snickering, hand cupped over her mouth while her eyes danced with laughter.

“What on earth, Mel?” she asked.

“You left your shoe on the bottom, Cinderella,” Huxley teased, moving to where a large net lay against the low garden wall.

“I can’t believe I did that,” Melodie grumbled, mortified but able to laugh at herself. It was so ludicrous.

Roman didn’t seem to think it was funny, though. He was staring at her so hard her wet clothes should have been nuked off her body.

“May I have a towel?” she prompted.

“Of course.” He snapped into motion.

“Oh! I have a bathing suit you can wear,” Ingrid exclaimed. “I bought it yesterday and left it in my bag.” She disappeared into the house and Melodie shook her head. It was far too late for swimwear.

She followed Roman into the nearby cabana where he turned with a towel in his hand. His gaze raked down her again, making her acutely aware of how her clothes were suctioned to her like a second skin. She plucked at her knit top, which only stretched the neckline and ruined it.

Roman came forward, shaking out the towel and slinging it around her. He was so tall it was no problem at all for him to get it around her.

Her heart did another somersault and his musky scent stole through the air of chlorine as his wide chest filled her vision. Weakness attacked her.

“I—” It would be silly to apologize. She hadn’t fallen on purpose, but he looked so thunderous. “Thank you” was all she could manage as he drew the edges of the towel to where her waiting fingers brushed his.

“When you sank like that, I thought I was going to have to come in after you.”

“It was quite refreshing, to be honest. I needed to cool off.”

She shouldn’t have said that. The sexual tension she was fighting became something they both had to acknowledge, like it was a real thing holding them in its vortex.

She found herself staring at his mouth, anticipating its feel against hers. Kisses were about as far as she went these days after losing her virginity for all the wrong reasons. Even kisses, however, always seemed to fall short of the hype. She always felt as though she was going through the motions, not really losing herself to the experience. If she couldn’t get caught up in that much, there was no use going further, she’d decided.

But she remained ever hopeful that she’d find a man who made things different. Today, at least, she wanted to be kissed. Deep longing filled her, making her ache to know how it would feel to kiss the man before her.

Distantly she was aware of his hand grasping her upper arm. He stepped closer. His head tilted.

She should have been startled, but it felt so natural. She dampened her lips. Parted them. And gasped when he branded her with the heat of his mouth.

So hot, so smooth and commanding, instantly hungry. Claiming her like a desert warrior stealing her for his pleasure. His hand splayed in a firm pressure behind her tailbone, bringing her imperiously into the wall of his muscled frame.

Heat burned through her wet clothing, sealing them tight with only the friction of dampened fabric between them.

He kissed her as though he meant it. As though he was making sure she’d never forget this moment. As though she was his and he was ensuring she knew it.

She kissed him back with the same passion, not thinking of anything beyond exploring this new pleasure. Letting him have her because what he was doing to her was fresh and exciting and incredible. His kiss made her feel desired. His tongue touched hers and shivers of delight stung her skin. A flood of arousal seared between her thighs, urged her to lean into him and let a moan of pleasure fill her throat.

“Here you are—oh!” Ingrid said on a breathless burst, then laughed with embarrassed hysteria.

Roman jerked back, keeping one hand on Melodie’s arm to steady her. His firm grip hadn’t hurt her, but his touch left a tingling impression. She massaged the spot, trying to dispel the odd vibration while she noted the front of his clothing wore her moist imprint.

“I’ll come back,” Ingrid offered, grin mischievous.

“No,” Roman blurted, brushing past Ingrid as he moved swiftly out of the cabana.

Ingrid, nearly doubled over she was laughing so hard, she stepped and pulled the curtain across. “O. M. G,” she said with exaggerated significance, eyes huge.

Melodie dropped her burning face into her damp hands, eyes closed in mortification. “I don’t know how that happened,” she groaned.

“Oh, please,” Ingrid chortled. “He’s Roman Killian. You should see what the office looks like when it’s announced he’ll be in. It’s like a red-carpet event, there are so many women wearing push-up bras and designer labels. I’m not the least bit surprised you—pun intended—fell for him.”

“No, I haven’t...” Melodie tried to protest, but her bones were still weak, and if Roman had walked back in and told her to come with him, she would have gone without a second thought.

“Don’t bother,” Ingrid instructed with a shake of her head. “If I hadn’t been crushing on Huxley my entire life, I would have fallen for Roman. He’s gorgeous. What intrigues me, though,” Ingrid lowered her voice to murmur, sidling closer with a little wiggle of excitement across her shoulders, “is the way he is falling for you.”

Melodie shook her head. “You’re mistaken—”

“He can’t take his eyes off you,” Ingrid insisted, enjoyment gleaming in her eyes as she gave Melodie’s drowned-rat state a good once-over. “To be fair, I don’t see him with women very often. I think he’s the sort who compartmentalizes. Work. Play. Know what I mean?” Ingrid made little stalls with her hands. “But when I have seen him with a date, he keeps up that aloof facade of his, never planting one on them as if he can’t wait for everyone else to leave. And they’re always blonde and stacked. Kittenish. Not really striking me as his intellectual equal.”

“I fell into the pool, Ingrid. Hardly a sign of great intelligence,” Melodie argued, heart galloping at the idea that Roman had been unable to resist kissing her.

She was not the type to provoke men to passion. Most of them thought she was too tall and wiry. Her half brother had done a number on her as a child, tearing her self-esteem to shreds in a way she’d only been able to rebuild once she had left home, so she still considered herself an ugly duckling who’d arrived at goose, not swan.

That dented self-esteem, along with her mother’s need of her, had kept her from a serious pursuit of love, but she longed for a deep connection with the opposite sex. With her mother gone, there was more than just a hole in her daily schedule. She felt her single status very keenly. The sight of couples and families made her feel very lonely. She wanted someone to share her life with. Not the facade of a shared life that her parents had had, but the sort of deep, abiding love that Ingrid and Huxley had.

She opened the towel and wrapped it like a turban on her head, throwing off self-pitying thoughts as she peeled away her wet clothes.

Ingrid pulled the tags off the bathing suit and something else that she held up for inspection. “Look. Huxley bought a shirt. You can borrow this, too.”

Any relief Melodie felt evaporated a moment later. Ingrid was decidedly smaller than she was. The bikini would be microscopic even on her client. On Melodie, it was downright lewd.

Ingrid was not deterred. She dropped Huxley’s sleeveless white shirt over Melodie’s head. “It’s a bit risqué, but nothing I wouldn’t wear poolside or to the beach.”

Or in the bedroom to incite her fiancé?

Melodie looked at the thin fabric hanging from narrow straps over her shoulders to scoop low across her breasts and waft in an indecently high hem across her thighs, barely covering her bottom. Even on the beach, this outfit would be nothing less than bait. With the pearls resembling puka shells around her neck, she looked like a surfer groupie trolling for a vacation hookup.

Unfastening the necklace, she muttered, “I can’t believe this has happened. I look so unprofessional.”

“It’s fine. Better than fine. Your legs should be licensed as a deadly weapon,” Ingrid said with a meaningful lift of her brows. “Let’s see if Roman likes them,” she added with a wicked grin, gathering up Melodie’s wet clothes and zipping outside with them, leaving the curtain to the cabana open.

Melodie hesitated, not wanting to be so encouraged by what Ingrid had said about Roman’s interest. She really wasn’t very experienced with men. Aside from her insecurities, a lot of the reason was exactly what she’d told Roman: she was a workaholic. She’d been supporting herself a long time, spending what little extra time she had visiting her mother, advocating for her. The few men she’d been loosely involved with had been nice enough, just not the type to inspire her to make room in her life for them.

Not that she expected Roman to want a place in her life! Quite the opposite. He struck her as a man who expected his women to be self-sufficient and sophisticated. Which she definitely wasn’t—not when it came to relationships. She might not be an actual virgin, but she was a one-time wonder, still not sure what had possessed her to go through with it the first time.

Well, realistically, she knew that immaturity and helpless fury had driven her. She’d wanted to strike back at Anton and had wound up hurting herself and a man who hadn’t deserved to be used. Anton’s friend, a young man Anton had been using so he could party on his family’s yacht, had had a crush on Melodie. She’d reveled in the opportunity to show Anton that not only did his friends find her attractive after all, but she had the power to influence them. She’d made the boy turn down Anton’s demand to sail in favor of taking her for a private cruise. She went through with the lovemaking she’d promised him, but it had been awkward and disappointing. He’d realized she didn’t truly care for him and had been quite devastated. The entire experience had turned into a lesson in being kind to others and true to oneself, which she had tried to follow ever since.