Part 13 (1/2)
”Three, no four, by the time we boarded the flight in Miami.”
”Next time, Doug, I don't care what I say, or the cost, we hire a private jet. If I give you any guff, just remind me of this trip.” He gave Nicole a sidelong glance. She was so s.e.xy in that little yellow thing she was wearing that he valiantly forced himself to keep his eyes locked on her face. But, h.e.l.l, he was a b.o.o.b-and-leg man and a sucker for cleavage. His gaze kept drifting downward.
Doug watched the interchange and the effort they were both making to keep from looking at each other. Max, when he wanted to, could charm the pants off the most cynical and experienced women. He was a man used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted. There was something odd going on between him and Nicky. At first, after they'd come back from the lodge, he'd thought, from the hostility, that Max might have seduced her. But he must have been wrong. Max acted as if he was walking on eggsh.e.l.ls around her. It was out of character, and Doug was curious as h.e.l.l to find out what was going on.
Nicole captured the fluttering skirt from the wind and tucked the ends between her knees. She wasn't ready to reveal the rest of herself to Max's gaze. ””Tell me something, now that you've talked me into doing this and I'm here on the island with no means of escape.” She gazed from one man to the other. ”You knew all about me before you ever showed up in Montana, didn't you? I mean, that story you two cooked up might have convinced my father, but it was a little much for me.”
Max placed his hand over his heart. ”I swear, Nicky, we came to Montana only because of Bedford. We had absolutely no idea about your existence. It was just meant to be. Fate, pure and simple.” ”Kismet,” Doug put in.
”Karma.” Max wasn't about to be outdone. ”Chance.”
”Luck,” Max shot back.
”G.o.dsend.”
”Destiny.” Max grinned when Doug glared at him. Determined to have the last word, Doug said, ”Nick's been curious about how to handle Gillman. I told her you'd fill her in on all the details.” He stood up quickly, secured his hat on his head and strolled down to the water's edge.
”Is he wearing what I think, or am I having a hallucination Max asked.
”He's gone native.”
Max finished his coffee, then secured the mug in the sand beside the lounge. ”The natives have better taste.”
”Why is it I wonder, that no one wants to tell me what I'm supposed to do now that I'm here?” Nicole said.
”Maybe because we know you're going to be put in an awkward position.
It's not going to be a picnic.” Max immediately regretted the reference to ”picnic” even though it brought back some lovely memories.
”Listen, Nicky,” he went on, ”everyone here is a professional. They know their jobs in this sort of sting operation. Above all, they know their first priority is to keep you safe and unharmed. I won't lie to you. As vigilant as everyone's going to be, as closely as you're going to be watched and the fact that I'm going to be with you every minute nevertheless, there's always room for human error. One wrong move. One slip and you could be in a dangerous situation.”
”Now you tell me,” she muttered.
”That's why I have to have your word, no matter what's happened between us, that you'll do what I say.”
She took a moment to consider what he'd asked, then nodded. ”Fill me in.”
”First thing to remember in a con game or a sting operation is to stick as close to the truth as possible. Don't fabricate or you're going to be tripped up. You're going to call yourself Nicole with no last name because you can't remember. The good doctor, M. Adair Gibson--me. By the way, the M. stands for Marion, but you like Max better. I don't think that'll bother Gillman.”
She agreed it would be far easier to answer to her own name. ”What am I doing here? Why haven't you informed the authorities of my existence? Tell me about Dr. Gibson.” Suddenly there seemed so much to know for the scare to work that she began to doubt if she could do it.
”Don't choke on me, sweetheart. The halt's rolling and picking up speed and can't be stopped now.” Without thinking, he reached for her hand and held it tightly. ”Nicky, most of the explanations are going to be coming from me, Remember, you have amnesia and you can always fall back on that. But one thing has to be convincing--the fact that you're in love with me. You have to be rock solid in your love and devotion to me. It's the key, the one thing that's going to tip Gillman over the edge.”
”I don't see it.”
”Think about it. Gillman believes he's done the perfect crime and is about to reap the rewards and get his hands on his wife's five-million-dollar estate.” Nicky gasped and he nodded. ”Yeah, a bundle. Think how he's going to feel when he's told his wife is alive. It's going to shake him up really good. But remember this, too. From all the background and research we've done one thing was clear--Gillman was always possessive and jealous of what was his, and Sandra was his.” ”Don't you think he'll suspect a setup?”
”Of course he will. He'll be suspicious and dangerous. But when he sees us together, so obviously in love, sleeping together--”
”Wait! Did I miss something? You kind of ran those last few words together.”
”We're supposed to be deeply in love--husband and wife, in our eyes. Don't you think he'd be suspicious if we didn't sleep together?”
”I guess.” She was having trouble taking it all in. ”So when he arrives, you move in with me? In the master bedroom?”
”No. I've already moved in.”
She opened her mouth and closed it then slowly tugged her hand out from under his. ”I don't think SO.”.
”Do you see what you just did? You don't want me to touch you. You're still p.i.s.sed off at me, and as much as you try not to show it you stiffen up a little when I'm close. Gillman's a smart man he'll spot the reaction. In the next couple of days we're going to be close---day and night, twenty-four hours a day. You have to get use to my touching you and being affectionate, even loving. Furthermore, you're going to have to reciprocate the feelings and actions.”
”Did you have this all planned in Montana?” ”Sure.”
”It's the only way, sweetheart. d.a.m.n it you just made a face at me.”
”Think of something besides' sweetheart darling. My ex-husband called me that all the time because, I'm sure, he forgot my name. I hate it.” She couldn't sit still any longer. Yanking off the skirt, she got up and headed for the water.
Max watched, his breath hanging in his throat and his heart hammering like crazy. The bikini bottom was no more than a tiny triangle of mated hal Her backside was taut and her legs long and shapely, with strong thighs and rounded calves. Years on ho:seback had hardened and defined every muscle, without making them overly muscular. He sat staring, drinking in the sight and remembering the strength ”of those legs wrapped around him. The way she'd squeezed him and held him inside her.
Max shook his head. He figured a dip in the water would be therapeutic. It would cool his desire and clear his head. Though the thought that he might get close enough to feel her wet-slick skin against him made him hasten his steps.
Nicole slipped under the water, letting it inch over her head, savoring the feel. The rivers at home were all fed by melting snow high up in the mountain and always cold. She'd swum in the Pacific, too, and found it cold, dark and unappealing. But the Caribbean water was different, sliding over her body like warm silk. She came up for air, wiped the water from her eyes, then squealed when she came face-to-face with Max. ”Wonderful, isn't it?” she said.
Max glanced around, taking it all in. He'd been to the island before and never noticed until that moment just how beautiful it was. ”Yes. But you know, I don't like it half as much as your mountain in Montana.”
She treaded water in front of him, laughed and said, ”Sure, you can say that now--you've never spent a winter there.” Then she started swimming parallel to the sh.o.r.eline, her strokes long and sure.
Max watched her body slice through the clear blue water and started after her. He had no idea how they ended up in a race. One moment he was simply trying to catch up with her, the next they were beating their bodies against the water, fighting to outdistance the other.
Nicole finally admitted defeat and stopped, her breathing labored. Max swam circles around her, no more tired out than if he'd taken a stroll on the beach. ”That's how you keep in shape--you swim?” she asked. She could barely get the words out she was so fired, and she flipped onto her back to float and catch her breath.
”Yes. Hard swimming takes some discipline. The first thing is to make yourself breathe slowly, the next is to remember to let your thigh muscles do all the work. You were exerting most of your power from the knee down, and that can wear you out real fast. Plus, you're not used to the way salt water can weigh you down and sap your strength.”
”You're being too kind. You're just stronger, better and more experienced than I am.”