Tawny Weber - Call To Redemption

“Well, that’s specific,” Darby said with a laugh. Not just the law, but all shades of the law.

“I believe in covering all contingencies.”

“I like that in a man.”

“Excellent.” He gestured for the waiter to pour the wine, waiting until the man left before lifting his glass. “Here’s to vacation mysteries and pleasurable fantasies.”

“I think I can drink to that,” she agreed, a little thrilled to realize that she could not only drink to it, but she also actually welcomed it.

“So what do you do when you’re not sipping frothy pink drinks in Hanalei?” he asked after they’d clicked and sipped.

“You had your two things, here are mine.” Mind made up, she leaned forward with a smile hopefully tempting enough to lure him into agreement. “First off, you’re a gorgeous man who is filling my head with thoughts and fantasies so detailed and erotic that I’m surprised I’m not blushing.”

“Is that a fact?” When he turned his wrist so their hands were palm-to-palm and gently rubbed his thumb over her pulse, even those thoughts blurred. Darby had to take a couple of deep breaths to pull them back into focus.

“Mmm, yes. That is a fact. So thing one is to assure you that despite bursting my beachside B-and-B bubble, the attraction is very mutual.”

“That’s good to know.” His smile shifted, his dark eyes narrowing with desire. “Since I plan on finding out a lot more about those fantasies of yours so we can play them out in exquisite detail.”

Oh, boy. She wanted a sip of ice water to cool her throat—or a gulp of wine to steady her nerves. But she forced herself to continue without either.

“Which brings me to the second thing.”

Talk about wicked. His smile shifted, sparking a curl of hot desire deep in her belly. The kind that made Darby want to press her thighs tight together to intensify, to build until the pleasure exploded.

“The second thing is that we agree that whether our time together is limited to dinner, to the night, or the entire week, that it’s only about here and now.” Afraid she was sounding like some goofy romantic in a sappy movie, Darby cleared her throat and continued. “Whatever time we spend together will be focused on the matter at hand with no sharing of personal details. Topics such as careers, job demands, educational specifics or anything work-related is off-limits.”

“Interesting.” He arched one brow. “Are you involved in anything illegal?”

Tempted to laugh, Darby shook her head.

“Immoral? Illicit?”

Immoral? Thinking of the thousands of lawyer jokes she’d heard over the years, Darby’s lips twitched again.

“There is nothing about my vocation that the United States government would frown on,” she said primly.

“So that’s it? No sharing home addresses or phone numbers, and no job talk?”

“Not even a hint.”

Considering, he leaned back in his seat while the waiter set salads lush with leafy greens, spears of fruit and a dusting of fried plantains in front of them.

“Any other personal details off-limits?” he asked as soon as the man was out of earshot.

“Last names,” she added, just for fun. She knew all it’d take was a visit to the front desk—probably even less for him—to get that information. But it added to that the mystery. “We stick with Darby and Dominic. Which would have been a great name for that B and B, by the way.”

“I can see the carved driftwood sign hanging over the door,” he agreed. “But since you’ve put the kibosh on that particular fantasy, I guess we’ll settle for the other one. A week of vacation pleasure. We’ll live in the moment, with no pressures and no expectations on either side. Except for pleasure. I have a lot of expectations when it comes to pleasure with you, Darby of no last name.”

His expression was easy, the look in his eyes promising that the pleasure he offered was more than anything she’d ever imagined. But there was something else there, Darby realized. She’d seen hints of it already, an intensity and guarded pain, that made her realize that while this little escape into fantasy was something she wanted, it was actually something Dominic needed.

A tickle in her belly joined the sexual tingles teasing her skin. Darby wasn’t sure what it meant. She recognized the attraction—the guy was gorgeous, after all. But there was something deeper pulling at her, tugging her heartstrings. Making her want to cuddle the man close and smooth away any pain. To give him a safe haven against the miseries she saw in his eyes.

Whoa.

Freak-out alert. Darby could feel her brain scrambling back from the concept of emotional anything.

Emotions led to feelings. Feelings led to pain. Pain led to debilitation. The kind that slayed hearts, destroyed families, ruined lives.

No can do.

No way.

No thanks.

Darby drew in a slow, deep breath, feeling as if she’d just backed away from a mental cliff on a windy day.

Emotions didn’t come into this, she assured herself. This thing, this week, it was all about the physical. Or, better yet, the fantasy.

“That’s exactly what I want,” she told Dominic, leaning forward take his hands in hers. “I want the fantasy. I want to lose myself in the pleasure of this gorgeous resort, this beautiful island and each other. I’d like to see what life is like outside of the world I usually live in.”

Dominic lifted both her hands to his lips, brushing a warm kiss over the knuckles of one, then the other. He smiled, his mouth still warming her skin.

“If it’s a fantasy you want, darling, it’s a fantasy I’ll give you. One you’ll never forget.”

Uh-oh.

Darby knew trouble when it was kissing her hand.

But this was vacation.

Her chance to prove that she had a life outside of work. A way to relax that she could actually enjoy.

So what if the guy was trouble?

Nobody was going to be hurt by this. They were both single, both free to enjoy themselves. And both interested, with a solid finish line already spelled out.

It was perfect.

For the first time in her life, she was ready to simply live in the moment. To grab on with both hands and ride it like a wild stallion, wringing every drop of pleasure there was to be had from it.

Talk about work-life balance.

Who knew it could feel so delicious.

CHAPTER THREE

BY THE END of dinner, Nic was mentally writing a thank-you note to whatever universal being had sent Darby his way. Fate, his guardian angel—and no way a man saw what he did and lived through it all without believing there was an angel watching over his ass—or, in his case, the god Poseidon, whom he’d pledged service to when he’d earned his trident.

Whoever, whatever, there was no question that they were looking out for him. Darby wasn’t just stunning, she was intriguing. There was an edgy sophistication in her demeanor that pricked at his curiosity and engaged his mind. As easy to talk to as she was to look at, she had a husky laugh, a wicked sense of humor and an easy sexuality that spelled interesting things for this week of living a fantasy.

Nic watched her lick the last smear of caramel from her spoon, liking the way she seemed to give her entire focus to enjoying experiences. Food. Drink. Flirting. So far, the woman seemed to embrace every sensual moment of them.

“The band is good,” she observed as the music drifted up from the lanai.

“They’ve got a solid reputation,” he agreed. Then, after a long moment, he asked, “Would you like to dance?”

His hesitance didn’t stem from reluctance to hit the dance floor. It was simply a matter of not bursting the fantasy bubble before they’d even got naked. The lead singer of the band currently rocking out an island version of “Welcome to the Jungle” was his cousin. If they went downstairs, there was no way his identity—or rather, his career, which was one and the same—would stay secret.