Magnate's Mistress...Accidentally Pregnant!

“I certainly hope so.” He reached to her right to grab the faded T-shirt hanging on the piling, bringing that bronze skin so close she could smell the sunshine and the musk of clean, male sweat. As he pulled it over his head, she stamped down her disappointment at the loss of the lovely view of his pecs. “I’m Chris Wells.”

“Ally.” She shook the hand he offered. It was warm and strong and slightly calloused, indicating he worked with his hands. The thought of those hands on her…She snapped back to the conversation. “I’m sure she’s enchanting.”

Chris cocked his head, sending a lock of blond-streaked hair over his forehead before he pushed it back. Those highlights were real—he obviously spent a lot of time in the sun.

Ally cleared her throat. “Circe. The enchantress queen from the Odyssey.”

“Yes, I know. I’m just surprised you do. Not too many people know who she is.” He crossed his arms across that unbelievable chest and leaned against the piling.

“I guess I’m a bit of a mythology geek.”

Chris’s eyes traveled appreciatively down her body, leaving her skin tingling in their wake. “I definitely wouldn’t consider you a geek.”

The heat of a blush replaced the tingles, and her brain turned mushy. “She so rarely gets the credit she deserves.”

“She turned Odysseus’s crew into pigs.”

Was that a challenge? “Some might say it wasn’t exactly a stretch.”

“Ouch,” Chris said.

“But she also gave Odysseus the information he needed to find his way home and avoid the Sirens. Odysseus owes Circe one.” Why am I babbling on about this? She needed to quit while she was ahead. Find another topic of conversation before he decides you really are a geek.

But Chris egged her on with another of those smiles. “But they were lovers. That’s what Circe wanted from him.”

Ally laughed and took the opening. Maybe he didn’t think she was babbling. “True, but I think that worked out better for Odysseus than for Circe.”

“Excuse me?”

She looked at him levelly. “Odysseus and Circe have a fling. After which, Circe gives him much-needed information, and he’s gone without a backward glance, leaving her pregnant with triplets. Not so great an ending for Circe.” She shook her head sadly.

“What, no romantic sympathies for his desire to get home to Penelope?” Chris teased.

This was fun. She leaned against the opposite piling and mirrored his crossed arms. “Oh, now Penelope has my sympathy. Odysseus, the original golden boy of ‘all style, no substance,’ goes out adventuring, leaving her at home to weave and take care of the kid. She remains faithful while he starts the tradition of a girl in every port. Odysseus was a player.”

Chris laughed out loud. “You don’t sound like you like Odysseus much.”

“I won’t deny there’s something attractive about him, but smart women don’t fall for that—at least not more than once.”

A blond eyebrow arched upward. “You sound bitter.”

She shrugged. “Let’s just say I know better. If you ask me, Odysseus got much better than he deserved.”

“That’s a different take on a classic.”

In her primmest voice, she said, “Homer was a man. I don’t think he sees it quite the same way a woman would.”

“You have a point, Ally.”

“Maybe.” When he didn’t respond, she was disappointed. Were they done now? Should she move on? She didn’t want to, but Chris did have a major project underway. He hadn’t moved from his lazy pose against the piling, but maybe he was just too polite. She’d wrap it up and let him get back to work. “But you’re doing a good thing, bringing Circe back to her former glory. I’m sure she’ll be lovely.”

“She will be. Right now she’s just a money pit. I can see now why Odysseus left her. Too needy.” He punctuated the statement with a wink.

Feeling better than she had in months, Ally let a giggle escape. “You’re terrible.”

Chris shrugged. “You started it.”

“Well, I stand by my earlier statement, regardless. Your Circe deserves the face-lift. I’m sure she’ll be a beautiful, enchanting ship when you’re done.”

“Yacht.”

“Pardon me?”

“She’s a yacht. Not a ship.”

“Really? There’s a difference?”

“Definitely.” Chris levered himself back to his feet. “Ships are those big ones that move cargo and such. These,” he indicated the boats around them, “are yachts.”

Maybe they weren’t done just yet. He didn’t seem in a hurry to run her off and get back to work. A little spurt of excitement warmed her blood. This trip was getting better by the second…

“Ally! Ally-girl, I thought that was you.”

The voice hit her between the shoulder blades and crawled down her back. I spoke too soon. She knew that creepy, gravelly voice. She turned, and, sure enough, Fred was lumbering down the dock toward her like a duck to a June bug. Why me? Why? I find a hunky guy to talk to and the slimy one has to come and ruin it. It wasn’t fair.

She saw Chris’s eyebrows go up in question as Fred lumbered to a stop beside her. “Ally,” he puffed, “I saw you headed this way. If you’re interested in boats, darlin’, I’d be happy to oblige.”

At least he’s wearing more than he was yesterday. The polo shirt and shorts were an improvement, but that didn’t mitigate the fact he was here ruining her day again.

Fred looked Chris up and down, then glanced dismissively at the Circe. “How about that dinner now? We can let this swabbie get back to work.”

Chris stiffened a bit at the insult, but he didn’t take the bait. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Swabbie? How arrogant could one guy be? And how was she going to gracefully extricate herself this time? Short of jumping off the dock and swimming to shore, she was trapped.

She felt, more than saw, Fred reach for her elbow to lead her away. Desperate, she turned to Chris and mouthed, Help.

The corner of Chris’s mouth twitched. Dammit, this wasn’t funny. She didn’t want to be outright rude to Fred, but this needed to be nipped in the bud.

Fine. Rudeness begat rudeness, and this jerk started it. Her conscience could be salved by that, at least, as she took a deep breath and opened her mouth to be intentionally rude for the first time in her life. “Look—”

“Ally,” Chris interrupted smoothly, “I know you’re upset I’ve been spending so much time on the boat, but you don’t need to get even by flirting with another man.”

She let out her breath in a rush at the save, but then gasped as Chris looked at Fred and shrugged. “You know how women are about these things. They get so jealous over the ‘other woman.’”

Her mouth was open to argue with such a sexist statement when she realized Fred was nodding in agreement. She closed it with a snap and accepted the hand Chris held out to her. One quick tug, and she was against his chest with his arms wrapped around her.

And everything else ceased to exist.

The men were talking, but Ally couldn’t hear the exchange. The heat from Chris’s body and the solid wall of muscle surrounding her had her blood pounding in her ears. Closing her eyes, she inhaled, and the summertime smell of him filled her senses. Every nerve ending sprang to life, and she fought against the urge to rub sensually against him but lost. Her breathing turned shallow and her inner thighs clenched. But when Chris dropped a warm kiss on her bare shoulder, lightning raced through her, causing her to arch into him in response.

His arms tightened around her, and she melted into the pressure…

“Ally?”

The whispered question sent chills over her skin as his breath caressed her ear. Her eyelids felt heavy as she attempted to open them.

“He’s gone. You’re safe now.”

The words hit her like cold water. Reality snapped back into focus, and…Oh, no. She felt the hot flush of embarrassment sweep up her chest and neck.

She’d been writhing against him like a stripper against a pole, and her humiliation was now absolute.

This vacation sucked.

CHAPTER TWO

ALLY WAS A WONDERFUL ARMFUL, but the situation was about to become embarrassing for them both if he didn’t release her. The colorful sundress she wore had concealed the lush curves he could now feel as she fitted perfectly into him like a puzzle piece. Curly dark tendrils of hair that smelled like sunshine and citrus caught the breeze and tickled over his skin. When she’d sighed and moved against him, he’d been unable to resist tasting her.

Her plea for help might have spurred him to reach for her, but in reality it had only provided an excuse to act on the need to touch her that he’d felt the moment she’d lifted her chin and started her defense of Circe. A need that had intensified when that Euro-trash wannabe had tried to stake a claim on her.

But now that he was gone, Chris no longer had a reasonable excuse to continue holding her—beyond his own enjoyment, of course. But that enjoyment was beginning to press insistently against her, and in another moment he was going to take advantage of the situation.

As he gave the all clear, Chris felt her stiffen. Ally extricated herself awkwardly, clearing her throat as a red flush colored her chest and neck.

Maybe I’m not the only one who got a thrill from the contact, he thought.

“I, um, ahem, uh—” Ally paused, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Thank you for the save. Fred must not have gotten the hint yesterday that I wasn’t interested. Maybe now he’ll find someone else to stalk.”

“My pleasure.” Definitely. He’d never been one for saving the damsel in distress before, but if this was what it was like, he’d reconsider playing Lancelot.

Ally attempted to smooth the loose hair back from her face, then smiled uncomfortably. But she wasn’t beating a fast path off the dock, which was good since he was already hoping he’d have an excuse to touch her again soon.

“Would you like to come aboard? See the Circe up close?”

He was treated to a brilliant smile that lit up her deep brown eyes. “I’d like that a lot. I’ve never been on a boat before. A yacht, I mean.”

“You can call her a boat, just not a ship.”

“Good, because yacht sounds a bit pretentious.” Her cheeky smile was contagious, and he knew he was grinning like an idiot as he stepped onto the deck and held out a hand to help her board.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been on a boat before.”

“Never. Well, unless you want to count a canoe at camp one summer.”

He’d spent his entire life on, in or around boats. Sailboats, speedboats, rowboats, tugboats—if it went on the water, he’d built it, raced it or at least crewed it. He’d never met anyone who hadn’t even seen one up close before.

Ally seemed to be taking the inspection seriously, as she asked questions about the sails and the cleats and how it all worked. As she trailed a hand along the tiller, his blood stirred, wanting that hand to caress him instead.

He cleared his throat. “She was designed to race, so she’s lean. No frills to weigh her down.”

“Is that what you’re going to do? Fix her up and race her?”

“No, I can’t race her. Her hull is too heavy to compete with what’s out there now.”

Ally looked at him. “But you do race, right? Or you’re wanting to?”

Was she serious? A look at Ally’s heart-shaped face told him she was. She honestly had no idea. How long had it been since he’d had a conversation with someone who didn’t know who he was? Wells Racing and the OWD Shipyard really had consumed his life—to the extent that it had probably been at least five years since he’d met anyone who wasn’t as obsessed as he was. Maybe more like ten. And while part of him wanted to impress Ally with his list of credentials, he held it at bay. It was nice to be incognito for once.

“I race…among other things.” It wasn’t a lie. Pops still kept his command in the offices of the OWD Shipyard—in name at least—but Chris found more and more of the day-to-day business crossing his desk these days. He juggled a lot, but Wells Racing was still his main focus.

Ally grinned at him. “But do you ever win?”

He laughed before he caught himself. “Occasionally.”

“Is it dangerous?” She didn’t meet his eyes as she asked that, but the too-casual way she poked at the deck line belied her interest.

“Not really. You can get hurt, don’t underestimate that, but it’s pretty hard to kill yourself.”

Her shoulders dropped in relief. “That’s good. My brother races dirt bikes for fun. It’s pretty easy to kill yourself doing that.” Ally poked her head into the hatch. “Not a lot down there.”

“Like I said, she’s built for racing. Bare necessities only.” He liked watching her explore the Circe. As the breeze molded her dress to her curves, he realized he liked watching her, period. The erection he’d only recently got back under control stirred to life again.

Ally sat on the edge of the cockpit and ran her hands over the smooth planks of the deck. “This is neat. Thank you for showing me.”

Unable to resist, he sat next to her. Possibly a little closer than was called for, but Ally didn’t move away. “Neat?”

“Yes, neat. I like to learn new things.” She looked sideways at him and shrugged. “In fact, I’ve decided that this vacation is going to be all about new things. I came by myself, which was definitely a first. I’ve—”

“You came on a Caribbean vacation by yourself?” Even though she’d been wandering the dock alone, he assumed she had friends or family somewhere on the island.

“It’s a long story, but, yes.”

He started to ask another question but she cut him off.

“Seriously, it’s a long, boring story. But I’m here now, and I’m making the most of it. I’ve tried new foods, let the spa spread mud all over me, and now I’ve been on a boat for the first time. I’d say I’m off to a good start.”

He was still reeling at the mental image of Ally nude while mud was painted sensuously across her breasts. He cleared his throat. “You’re quite the adventurer.”

She beamed, her brown eyes lighting up. “I wouldn’t go that far. But I am taking baby steps.” Ally closed her eyes and leaned back to enjoy the sun. It was an artlessly erotic pose—back arched, breasts thrust temptingly toward him, the gentle curve of her neck exposed. “This is wonderful. The wind and the water are very relaxing.”

He was anything but relaxed. “Would you like to go out?” he blurted.

Ally sat up and opened her eyes, the shock readily apparent. “I’m sorry, what?”

Well, that hadn’t been his smoothest move. He cleared his throat. “Sailing. Would you like to go out sailing tomorrow?”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“Come on. It’ll be fun.”

“I’ve never—”

“I thought you were being adventurous on your vacation.”

Ally shifted uncomfortably. “There’s adventurous and then there’s the fact that I’m not a very good swimmer.”

“The chances of you going overboard are pretty slim unless you jump.”

Ally looked over the mess he’d made of the Circe, a wary look in her eye. “But—”

He followed her gaze and laughed. “Not on the Circe. She’s not up for company yet. I’ll borrow a little cat or something. Start slow.”

Confusion furrowed Ally’s forehead. “A cat?”

“Catamaran. Like the ones you see on the beach down there.”

She looked to where he was pointing and nodded. “It’s kinda big, don’t you think, for my first time? Maybe something smaller, like those over there?” She pointed to some dinghies tied up at the dock.

“Ah, Ally, you don’t want to start too small. You want to get the full experience.” He dropped his voice and teased, “Bigger really is better, you know. It’s not the same sensation at all.”

She caught her lip in her teeth, the picture of indecision. “Um…”

“We’ll take it really slow and give you some time to get comfortable. We won’t go very far until you’re sure you’re ready. Just nice and easy.” He stroked her arm and gooseflesh rose under his fingers. “We won’t go too fast, I promise—unless you decide you want to, of course. And I think you will once you get into it. Otherwise, you can relax and let me do all the work while you just enjoy yourself.”

Ally’s eyes were wide and dark as she exhaled gently. “Are we still talking about sailing?”

Who cares about sailing? He stopped and gave himself a strong mental shake. “Of course. Well? Are you game?” He could see the indecision in her eyes. She wanted to go, but something was holding her back. “Are you afraid? Of the water?”

She hesitated as she looked away. “No. Not afraid, just not any good—I mean, I’m not a good swimmer.”

“Do you trust me?”

One eyebrow went up. “I’ve known you for less than an hour. No, I don’t trust you.”

Ally was a breath of fresh air—and honest to a fault. “I’m hurt,” he teased.

Looking sideways at him, she amended her statement. “But I don’t distrust you, either.”

That easy smile was really starting to work on him. “It’s a start.”

“And you did save me from Fred.”

“Very true. Surely that merits something.”

“If you were a Boy Scout, maybe a badge of some sort.” She bit her lip again, sending a jolt through him. “But I don’t think you’re a Boy Scout.”

“You do know how to wound a man. I may not be a Boy Scout, but I am a good sailor. You needn’t have any worries about surviving the experience. I’ll bet you’ll even enjoy it, despite your reservations.”

She didn’t pick up the gauntlet, but she was coming around. “How about the medium-size one? I can work my way up from there.”

“How about dinner instead? If you still want to start small after that, then I’ll get the dinghy. But I think you’ll come to see the benefits of not setting your sights too low.”

Confusion crinkled her forehead, and it took all he had not to reach for her and drag her below, but there was nothing below but a couple of narrow bunks, completely useless for what he had in mind. “Dinner?” she asked.

He feigned shock. “Of course. You don’t expect me to go sailing with a woman I barely know, do you?”

Ally laughed and nudged him with an elbow. “I don’t know what to expect from you.”

“Just a good time, that much I can assure you.” For us both.

“Then it’s a deal.” Ally stuck out her hand, but instead of shaking it, he squeezed it gently.

Slightly flustered, she stood and brushed at her dress with her free hand. “Should I, um, go change?”

“You look amazing.” She blushed at the simple compliment, and something primal and protective stirred in his stomach. It was an odd feeling. “I, on the other hand, need to shower. You can’t be seen in public with an unwashed swabbie.”

Ally squeezed his hand back as she apologized. “Fred’s a jerk. That comment was uncalled for.”

“I’ve been called worse by better.”

“But still…”

She seemed so earnest in her apology and need to console. “Forget it, Ally.You’re not responsible for the actions of others.”

A shrug was her only response.

“Where are you staying? I’ll come get you around seven.”

“The Cordova Inn. How about I meet you in the lobby?”

He nodded, and steadied her as she stepped onto the dock. The Circe bobbed as she did, and the boat felt a bit empty once she’d left. He was admiring the gentle sway of her hips when she turned and gave a small wave. Another moment and she was around the building and out of sight.

Well, this was an expected turn of events. He’d come to Tortola to get the Circe and found the delicious Ally, as well. His father had called the Circe a lucky boat, and now he had proof. Not that he was ever one to question his luck—he’d learned early on to take advantage of whatever winds came his way.

He went below to get his shaving kit and wished the repairs were further along. Or that he’d at least gotten a proper bed installed. He didn’t mind crashing on the narrow bunks, but the Circe’s cabin was low on creature comforts and not exactly conducive to pastimes other than racing.

That would change, just not soon enough.

Of course, the arrival of Mickey and Victor tomorrow would also put a damper on any on-board activities with Ally. Which reminded him—he still had supplies to stow and he needed to call home.

He’d call and check in with Grace, just to be sure there wasn’t anything too pressing, then he’d call Pops and mollify him over the extended absence.

Thanks to the Circe, the company, the Dagny, and his grandfather were all far away and would remain so for the next few weeks. He stretched, and his fingertips grazed the Circe’s bulkheads. He was a free man. Somewhat free, he amended as his phone alerted him to an incoming text message.

It could wait a while though. Ally was far more interesting than another discussion of the Dagny’s sails or OWD business.

He grabbed his shaving kit and a clean shirt and headed to the marina to shower.

Ally held her composure until she was sure Chris was no longer in sight, then she sagged against the wall of one of the marina buildings. Her legs felt shaky as she let out her breath in a long, unbelieving sigh.

Had that really happened? Had she really just met a real-life Adonis and agreed to…to…She shook herself. Technically, she had only agreed to dinner and a sail, but deep down she was pretty sure she’d agreed to something far more. Chris’s interest went beyond taking her sailing. She wasn’t that naive.

She was, however, completely out of her league. Men like Chris just didn’t appear in her world every day. Men like Chris were the stuff of fantasies. Or movies. They certainly didn’t appear out of nowhere like a dream come true and take an interest in mousy little accountants.

“God, I love this island.”

She wrapped her arms around her stomach and enjoyed the thrill. She had an urge to find that fiancé-banging stupid travel agent and give her a big kiss. Checking her watch, she was amazed to realize dinner wasn’t that far off. She only had a little over an hour to wait, but at the same time, that hour seemed like an eternity. Not that she was interested in food. That feeling in her stomach definitely wasn’t hunger pangs.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed off the wall and found that her legs still weren’t completely stable. Which was appropriate, since she wasn’t sure she was mentally stable at the moment, either. These things just didn’t happen to her. But it had, and she was willing—make that more than willing—to grab this moment and run with it.

She covered the short distance between the marina and the inn in record time and hurried to her room. The light on her phone blinked, indicating she had a message waiting at the front desk, but she ignored it. She wasn’t the least bit interested in her fruity family or whatever crisis they’d concocted for themselves today.

Her wardrobe was limited, as she’d never considered this possibility while packing, and she grimaced at the selection. All of it plain, boring, unexciting—rather like her at times. She wished she had time to go shopping, to find something better, but the clock was ticking. When she got home, she’d do some serious shopping to remedy the sad state of her wardrobe. She did find another sundress that was dressier than the one she had on and wasn’t shaped like a potato sack. It would have to do.

She showered again and took extra time getting ready, wanting to look as good as possible, but her hair wasn’t cooperating. Sighing, she settled for another braid, tucking in the frizzing strands as best she could. At one minute after seven, she took a deep breath and headed for the lobby, half expecting Chris not to show up.

But he did, looking like something out of a magazine in loose linen slacks and button-down shirt with his blond-streaked hair brushed back from his face. That fluttery feeling in her stomach bloomed back to life, followed rapidly by the urge to suggest a quiet dinner in her room.