Kate Hoffmann - Marcus

“Ask me anything,” Marcus said.

“Why do you have an Irish accent?”

“I don’t,” Marcus said.

“You do. I noticed it the moment I met you. It’s there, but it’s very faint.”

“I grew up in Ireland,” Marcus explained. “My ma got sick when I was about five years old, and my da sent me and my two brothers to live with my grandmother. We were there for eight years. I had a really thick accent when I got back, but I learned to hide it. Hiding it helped me survive at school.”

After he finished, Marcus drew a deep breath, the detail of his reply surprising him. He’d always been so guarded when talking to women, especially about his childhood. His answers usually consisted of three-or four-word replies. But suddenly, he felt compelled to reveal his life story to Eden. Was it because he wanted her to do the same? Or was it because he’d come to trust her? After all, neither one of them had lived a fairy-tale life as a child. She would understand better than anyone.

“But you are an American,” she said.

“I felt Irish,” Marcus said. “It was all I knew for a long time.” He took another sip of his wine, the alcohol relaxing him. “Now your turn.”

Eden drew a deep breath. “All right. I thought I loved him and I wanted to keep everything between us exciting because there were so many women who wanted him. So I let him turn on the camera. And we watched the tape later and it was exciting and fun. He promised to erase it, but he kept it. A few months ago, after I said some rather unflattering things about him in the press, the tape suddenly reappeared. I think he gave it to a friend who gave it to a guy to put on the Internet.”

“It doesn’t make me think any less of you,” he said, his jaw tight. “But it sure as hell makes me think a lot less of this guy. He deserves a proper smackdown.”

Eden laughed. “And you would do that for me? Defend my honor?”

“Yeah, I would. And I’m good with my fists.”

She reached out and took his hand, weaving her fingers through his. “My hero,” she murmured, pressing her lips to the spot below his wrist.

It was such a simple gesture, unplanned and uncomplicated by any thoughts of seduction. But his reaction was instant and intense. The heat of her lips on his skin felt like a brand, lingering long after she’d drawn away. Marcus swallowed hard and flexed his fingers, wondering why they’d gone numb. But Eden didn’t seem to notice.

“Maybe I should have you negotiate this problem with my father,” she said.

“He’s going to be angry with you.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement of fact.

Eden nodded soberly, then set his hand down on the table. She placed it flat and distractedly began to trace an outline of his splayed fingers. “More than angry. He’s threatened to disown me before, and this will probably push him over the edge. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have cared, but lately my father and I have actually started to get along.”

“How long do you plan to hide out here?”

“A few years maybe,” she said, sending him a smile. “It’s not like I committed murder. I had sex and we videotaped it. People have sex all the time. It’s a very natural thing.”

The desire between the two of them had seemed perfectly natural, Marcus mused. But for some reason he didn’t like thinking about Eden in bed with other men, especially smarmy Eurotrash playboys intent on betraying her. “Right,” he said.

“You don’t agree?”

“I thought we weren’t going to go there,” Marcus said.

“Talking about sex isn’t having sex,” Eden said.

“It is for me,” Marcus replied. “You’ve already cost me a thousand dollars. Maybe two thousand, depending on how my brothers are interpreting the rules.”

Eden picked up her wineglass and slowly ran her finger around the rim. “Explain, please.”

“We made a bet, Ian and Dec and me. To be completely celibate for three months. I lasted just over two weeks.”

Eden’s eyes went wide and she laughed. “But we didn’t…have sex. We had foreplay. That doesn’t count.”

“It all counts,” Marcus replied. “I’ve already lost the original thousand I put in just by touching you. And I may have to put up another thousand if my brothers don’t go easy on me.” Marcus sighed. “I’m thinking maybe I just won’t tell my brothers. They’d never need to know.”

“It’s not like there’s a videotape,” Eden teased.

Marcus chuckled softly. At least she had a sense of humor about it. “No, thank God for that.”

Eden slowly set her wineglass down and got to her feet. His gaze skimmed over her slender body, the thin cotton of her tank top clinging to the curves of her breasts, the flowing fabric of her skirt revealing long, tanned legs. Her skin had a rosy glow from the sun, and as she stepped closer he felt the heat from her body.

“So the only thing standing between us and a fabulous night in bed is a couple thousand dollars?”

Marcus stared up at her, his fingers twitching with the need to touch her. “I don’t have that kind of money right now.”

She tipped her head to the side and gave him a naughty smile. “Do you take American Express or would you prefer a check?”

“I thought we weren’t going to do this,” Marcus murmured.

“I find the idea of buying your body intriguing.” Eden reached out and slipped her fingers through his hair, smoothing the strands away from his temples. Gently she turned him in his chair, then straddled him, her hair falling in soft waves around his face.

“You think you can have your way with me?” Marcus whispered, pulling her close enough to kiss.

“Maybe we shouldn’t ignore our desires. Maybe it’s best to just act on them.”

Marcus groaned inwardly. She had no idea what it was costing him to resist. The past few days had been sheer torture, and a night in bed alone would be enough to turn him into a sex-starved maniac. But there was still something holding him back, some instinct that told him that sex with Eden would not be simple.

Though Eden played the uninhibited temptress, Marcus had come to know the girl she really was-scared, lost, vulnerable and distrustful of men. If he crawled into her bed now, she’d probably find some excuse to discard him within the week.

“Princess, how long are we going to play this game?”

She frowned. “What game?”

He reached up and cupped her cheek in his palm, forcing her gaze to meet his. “Dragging me off to bed isn’t going to solve any of your problems. You should call your father and tell him you’re here,” he said.

He felt her stiffen in his arms and she quickly twisted out of his grasp. Marcus watched her walk to the stern and climb up on the top of the aft cabin, her attention focused on the sunset. “He’s probably already written me off,” she shouted, her voice breaking.

Marcus’s heart softened as he watched her facade crumble before his eyes. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“You don’t know my father,” she said, spinning around to face him, tears swimming in her eyes. Marcus had never really understood women, not deep down. But, oddly, he seemed to understand Eden. Right now, all she really wanted was a warm body, a distraction from her troubles. If he weren’t here, there’d be someone else willing to provide comfort and a little affection.

Marcus stood and crossed the cockpit. When he reached the aft cabin, he held out his hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s finish dinner. After that, I’ll take you for a ride in the dinghy. There’s a cove just over there I want to explore.”

She gnawed on her lower lip, then finally nodded her head. Eden bent down, and Marcus grabbed her around the waist and lowered her back into the cockpit. Her body brushed against his, and when she stood toe to toe with him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly.