Brenda Jackson - Risky Pleasures

She felt herself drowning in his sensuality, getting smothered in the passion. And she knew if she didn’t put a stop to this madness now, he would claim a victory; the same way he did with anything else he went after. And she refused to become another one of his claimed possessions.

With more strength than she’d thought she had, she pushed herself out of his arms and inhaled deeply to regain control of her senses. She felt flustered and knew she probably looked it, as well. But to her way of thinking, he maintained a calm demeanor, looking totally in control, programmed and completely at ease. His coolness made her even angrier. It also proved what she’d said earlier. The man had no feelings.

“That should not have happened,” she snapped.

“But it did, and it will again,” he said with strong conviction in his voice. “We are two passionate individuals, Vanessa. The reason you didn’t fight me off just now is because you’ve been aching to taste me just as long as I’ve been aching to taste you. And things won’t stop there, sweetheart. They can only go further.”

“No!”

“Yes. You can’t fight me on this. Becoming mine is inevitable.”

“Like hell!”

A small smile curved his wide mouth. “Actually it’ll be more like heaven. That I promise you.”

She took another step back. “Don’t promise me anything, Cameron. Just stay away from me.”

“Sorry, I can’t do that.”

Her mind registered his words but she refused to accept them. “I will fight you with every breath in my body.”

“You do that. And at the same time I plan on claiming you with every breath in mine.”

“You know nothing about me!”

“But I will. I intend to get to know everything about you, Vanessa. Count on it.”

Knowing that continuing to exchange words with him was a complete waste of her time, she angrily moved around him to leave his home, pausing only to snatch her red straw hat off the table.

“Mr. Cody, what do you want me to do with the basket that Ms. Steele brought?”

Cameron forced his gaze from the window where he watched an angry Vanessa make her way down his palm-tree-lined driveway toward the path that would lead her back to her place. To say she was highly upset with him would be an understatement.

He turned slowly, took a deep breath and let it out before asking, “Where is it?”

“I placed it on the kitchen table.”

“Leave it there. I’ll take care of it.”

“Yes, sir.” She turned to leave.

“And, Martha?”

She turned back to him. “Yes, sir?”

“If Vanessa Steele ever returns, whether I’m here or not, she is welcome.”

He was certain that after overhearing his and Vanessa’s conversation, his housekeeper probably thought that this would be the last place Vanessa would show her face again. However, if those were her thoughts, Martha was keeping them to herself. “Yes, sir,” she said instead. “I’ll make a point of remembering that.” Then she left the room.

Moments later, curiosity drew Cameron to the kitchen to see exactly what Vanessa had put in his gift basket. Like a kid in a candy store he started pulling things out, smiling when he saw the oatmeal raisin cookies she was famous for, the ones he’d heard Morgan rave about so many times.

As he began putting everything back in the basket he saw that her intent was for him to have a picnic without her, since there was just enough of everything for one person to enjoy. That was thoughtful of her. But then, from what he’d learned of Vanessa, she was a rather thoughtful person, which was why she was involved in so many community projects. But, as he’d told her, there was a lot about her he didn’t know, and since he intended to marry her relatively soon, he needed to continue his quest to get to know her.

Ten years ago he had vowed never to become involved in a relationship with even the remotest chance of becoming serious. He had made it a point to be totally honest with women he dated, to let them know up front that there were zero odds that the affair would go anywhere. He was very selective, preferring those women within his social circle. And there were certain things he just didn’t do. He didn’t invite them to functions that included his closest friends. And he never gave one free rein in his home. His home—and he had several—was his sanctuary, his private and personal domain. No woman had permission to invade his place. Until now. As he’d told Martha, Vanessa was welcome to his home at any time. If he was busy, he was to be interrupted; if he was asleep, he wanted to be awakened. It was important that he got his point across to Vanessa that she had become the most important thing in his life.

He leaned back against the counter, thinking about how she’d looked standing in the middle of his living room, as angry as any woman had a right to be. While she was standing there giving him what she saw as a much-deserved dressing down, he was giving her a dressing down of another type. He’d been wondering just what she had on beneath that cute pair of red linen shorts with the matching top. Some of the thoughts that had run through his mind had been outright scandalous. She hadn’t been wearing a bra, he could tell that. But then her breasts were just the right size and shape not to need one. And when he had pulled her into his arms and kissed her, he had known the exact moment her nipples had hardened because he’d felt them press firmly against his chest.

After their kiss, when he’d finally released her lips, he couldn’t help but recall how he’d left them moist and thoroughly kissed. And then there had been that deep, dark, desire-filled look in her eyes, just seconds before they turned fiery red and she began spouting off about him staying away from her. But, as he’d told her, that wouldn’t happen.

He would admit her finding out he had bought this house just to be close to her threw a monkey wrench in things for a while, but he was determined not to give up. Eventually, she would get over it, especially when she saw he wasn’t going away. He intended to use whatever means he found necessary to break down her defenses.

With that in mind he walked out of the kitchen and went to the nearest intercom to summon Martha.

“Yes, Mr. Cody?”

“I want a dozen red roses sent to Ms. Steele. And I want a bottle of wine delivered with the flowers. Have the card say, ‘Thanks for the basket. I’d love to share its contents, as well as this wine, with you later today on the beach.’”

“Yes, sir.”

Confident the older woman was capable of carrying out his wishes, he headed toward the study.

“Calm down, Vanessa, and stop yelling. I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

Vanessa inhaled deeply. Sienna was right. She had been yelling. Pausing, she rubbed her cell phone against her cheek to calm nerves that were already shot to hell. She couldn’t believe it. She just couldn’t believe it.

“Now do you want to start over and tell me what has you so upset?”

Sienna’s voice—calm as you please—reminded her why she was so upset. “Cameron is here, Sienna.”

“Here, where?”

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Here in Jamaica. On this island. Living right next door. He had the audacity, the gall, to purchase the house next door. I am as pissed as any woman can get.”

“I can tell. You’re raising your voice again. Calm down. So, you’re saying he found out you were skipping town and decided to follow you?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Just what am I supposed to do about that?”

“Make the most of it.”

“Sienna!”

“Okay, considering how you feel about the man, I guess that wasn’t a good answer.”