Led into Temptation Page 10

  “This way.” She started down.

  Dane glanced over his shoulder before he followed. There was no one in sight. This area of the island seemed entirely isolated. That meant they were probably safe from Michael Davenport. That was the good news. The bad news was that Naomi might not be safe from him.

  When one of her sandals set off a shower of stones, he stepped around her and took the lead. There was a path of sorts, and at times, it was wide enough that they could walk side by side. But the narrowness of the walkway caused occasional contact, and he was very much aware of each brush of her arm against his.

  “Do you mind a personal question, Father?”

  He shot her a sideways glance, but her focus was on the path. “No.”

  “Do you have to wear that collar all the time?”

  “No.”

  “Why are you wearing it here at Haworth House?”

  As a reminder, he thought. “Because I’m here on priest’s business, and I’m sold on this place. Especially this beach. I think it’s the perfect spot for meditation and prayer.”

  This time it was his foot that dislodged a shower of stones, probably punishment from on high for the lie. When she gripped his arm, he felt the imprint of each one of her fingers. “We should walk single file for a bit,” she said. He was careful not to meet her gaze as he stepped into the lead.

  Naomi found herself looking at his back. He’d slipped completely into priest mode, the man she’d been talking to at breakfast before the scones dropped. But she was looking at the body that had fascinated her from across the courtyard last night. Up close and personal. He’d changed into a gray cotton T-shirt that hugged a narrow waist and stretched tight over broad shoulders. Above the neckline, the Roman collar was just visible.

  “Why did you become a priest?”

  There was a beat of silence before he said, “Because I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to help people. Why did you become a lawyer?”

  Naomi frowned as she moved to walk beside him again. He’d had to think about it. Surely it was a question he’d answered many times. And he’d countered with another question. That was an age-old method of avoidance. “I became an attorney so that I could protect my sisters.”

  As they reached a curve, he glanced at her. “I can understand that.”

  There was something in his eyes. Regret? Pain? “You have family?”

  “Yes.” This time the silence stretched for two beats. Overhead, a gull gave a lonely call.

  “I lost them.”

  “Lost them?” She put a hand out and rested it on his arm. “How awful.”

  He turned and glanced down at her hand, but he didn’t draw away. “I don’t know why I said that. I never talk about it.”

  “Maybe you should. What happened?”

  He turned away then and began to walk. Naomi was pretty sure he wasn’t going to say any more. If her throat hadn’t been so tight, she might have assured him that it was all right if he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “My mom was what you might call nontraditional in her approach to child rearing. She loved us, but she also liked men, a lot of different men. When I was old enough to think about her behavior in a more analytical way, I came to the conclusion that she was looking for Mr. Right and not having much luck finding him. But she never gave up. My two brothers, my sister and I probably all had different fathers. I was the oldest, and when I was nine, she didn’t come home one night.”

  Naomi gripped his arm again. “What happened?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t find out until the next morning when the police and social services showed up. She’d been taken to an emergency room where she’d died of a burst aneurysm in her brain.”

  Something squeezed around Naomi’s heart. She pictured him as a nine-year-old trying to make sense of what had happened. She’d been younger when her father had left her sister and her with the nuns and later when they’d received the news that he’d died in a car crash. But she had some idea of the piercing sense of loss, of disorientation.

  “I tried my best to keep us together. But I was nine. We had a few days together in a facility before they split us up. I can still see the way my two brothers and my sister looked at me when they were led away.”

  She tightened her grip on his arm and waited until he stopped and met her eyes. “When my father died, at least my sisters and I weren’t alone. My mother was French, and she’d died six months earlier of leukemia. Neither of my parents had any other family, so Dad brought us to this Catholic French boarding school where my mother had gone. Just temporarily until he could make arrangements. He was on his way back to us when his car ran off the road near Monte Carlo. But we had the nuns, and there was never any talk of separating us.”

  “Like yours, my mother didn’t have any family, so I went into foster care. My brother Ian went into a different foster home and he was eventually adopted. My sister, Brianna, was two, and she was adopted. So was my four-year-old brother, Caleb. Sealed records. I’m still trying to locate the two younger ones. But I found Ian. He was working in research and analysis at the CIA. He’s brilliant at what he does, and eventually, we’ll find the others.”

  “I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do to help…I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been separated from my sisters.”

  He laid a hand over the one that still rested on his arm. “You may have your sisters, but you’ve suffered losses, too.”

  She frowned at him. “I lost a job and a fiancé. I didn’t lose family.”

  “Still, it had to be a blow to lose your fiancé. You must have loved him.”

  “No.” Michael had said those words, but she never had. “I thought I loved him. Even after everything I’d learned about him, I still thought maybe I did. I kept trying to put together the Michael Davenport I knew with the man the FBI described to me. The man I became engaged to was thoughtful, kind, very romantic. He was always buying me little souvenirs to commemorate everything that happened between us.”

  “Like what?”

  “Silly things. A key chain, a refrigerator magnet, a little snow globe. I saved all of them. I kept them on a shelf in my apartment. I even brought them here with me. Don’t ask me why.”

  He didn’t, but the silence finally made her say, “Probably because I was stupidly trying to hold on to the myth that he loved me. No one had ever treated me with that kind of meticulous attention before. It was very seductive.”

  “And he was a good lover?”

  A mix of surprise and shock rippled through her. She opened her mouth, not exactly sure what she was going to say when he said, “I’m sorry. That was an abominably rude question and none of my business.”

  She met his eyes directly. “I don’t know what kind of a lover Michael would have been. He never did more than kiss me.” She felt the rush of heat to her face. “You’re probably wondering why I ever agreed to the engagement.” She was beginning to wonder, too. “But Michael seemed to be the kind of man a girl should fall in love with. He was charming, thoughtful, my boss loved him. I went with the flow.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not proud of that.”

  “Do you think he was in love with you?”

  Naomi considered. “He said he was. He acted as if he was. But since I don’t really know him, I can’t say.”

  “In my experience, people get engaged for two reasons, love or money. If it wasn’t a compelling issue of love at first sight, a man like that, a swindler, must have seen some advantage in establishing a relationship with you. What did you bring to the table?”

  She stared at him. “Nothing.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself.”

  The sharp impatience in his voice made her blink. She had time to recognize that it wasn’t the priest she was talking to now, but before she could say a word, he hurried on. “For one thing, you brought a reputation for honesty. How many clients did he gain access to in the past six months with you standing at his side?”

  Surpris
e rippled through her again, and her picture of her relationship with Michael shifted just as sharply and drastically as if she were viewing it through a kaleidoscope.

  Anger surged. “Because of me, he was able to convince my boss and most of our law firm’s biggest clients to invest with him. That’s why Leo King said he had to let me go. He said he didn’t believe that I had anything to do with Michael’s schemes, but because it appeared that way, the firm couldn’t be associated with me anymore. Michael Davenport used me. I’m not going to let any man do that to me again. Ever.”

  Afterward, Dane wasn’t quite sure how it happened. Maybe it was the mix of emotions that ran through him at her words or the Joan-of-Arc look that was back on her face. Or it could have been that he’d finally given in to the steadily strengthening temptation she’d presented each time she’d touched him on their walk down the cliff. But suddenly she was in his arms, and each delicate curve of her body was pressed against his.

  Her eyes widened and darkened immediately. Her breath hitched, and the pulse at her throat kicked into that wild rhythm that never failed to trigger an instant response in him.

  At first he didn’t move. When she wrapped her arms around his neck and he felt that strong, supple body vibrate against his, he pulled her even closer. The priest should have stepped back. The man simply couldn’t.

  He’d never known a desire this raw, this reckless. He wanted her, needed her the way a man needed to eat after a long fast—the way a man might crave air after a long time underwater. Once again the world spun away until all he knew was her. He leaned forward, closing the distance so that he could finally taste her when he felt the collar around his neck cut into his skin.

  Reality thundered back into place, abruptly widening the scope of his world. He was here to do a job. And the woman in his arms might be in mortal danger. He wasn’t sure which of those concerns gave him the strength to loosen his hold on her.

  “I can’t, Naomi. We can’t.” Gripping her wrists, he removed them from around his neck.

  Her eyes were still cloudy with desire, but he didn’t miss the flash of pain before she averted her gaze. “Because you’re a priest.”

  It wasn’t a question so he was saved from having to make an answer. Good thing. He was certain the lie would have choked him. As it was, it took all his concentration not to reach out to her. Her vulnerability pulled at him. But if he touched her again…he wouldn’t be able to stop.

  It took her only a moment to gather herself, and she moved past him to take the lead again. Admiration streamed through him. In addition to all her other qualities, Naomi Brightman had more than her share of true grit.

  She didn’t speak until they reached the beach. “Hungry?”

  “I could eat.” The moment had passed. She wasn’t going to bring it up again. But Dane was very aware it wasn’t relief he was feeling as they walked toward the water.

  With her eyes firmly fixed on the sea, she sat down, slipped out of her sandals and slid her feet into the warm sand. He allowed himself a long look at those legs before he dropped down beside her. Then he busied himself with unpacking a thermos and plastic cups. By the time he’d poured drinks and screwed the cups into the sand, she’d extracted two Chinese take-out containers. “It’s my sister Reese’s idea to pack picnic lunches this way. It cuts down on sand.”

  Dane opened the container she passed him, found two sandwich wraps and handed her one.

  “I hope you like chicken curry,” she said.

  “If it tastes as good as it smells, I do.” He bit into the wrap, but in spite of the explosion of flavors on his tongue, he was still wondering what Naomi would taste like.

  For the next few minutes, they ate their way through the sandwiches in silence. Dane tried to regroup. He’d have had a better shot if he hadn’t sat down so close to her. She was less than a foot away. On top of that, the setting itself was weaving its seductive magic. It offered privacy and the illusion that whatever happened here could stay here. And it didn’t help one bit that each wave that crashed into the shore had him replaying in his mind the scene in From Here to Eternity when Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr made love with the surf thundering around them.

  Pushing the image firmly out of his mind, he attempted to shift his focus back to the job. Davenport was here on the island. And he was making plans. That was what he had to remember.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her repack the picnic tote. When she drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, her legs didn’t brush against his, but some of the sand her movement displaced did, and he felt a little jolt. She might just as well have touched him. He’d never in his life been so sensually aware of a woman. How far would she take him when he kissed her, when he touched her, really touched her? He wanted to run his hands over her, mold every inch of her.

  What in the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t a teenager with raging hormones. Wise decision or not, he was here alone with her and he had the perfect opportunity to persuade her to open up. He needed as much information as he could get on Davenport if he was going to have any chance of predicting the man’s next move.

  “What do you think of this place for a retreat, Father?”

  He turned to her. It was the first time since they’d reached the beach that he’d met her eyes. Her breath caught and he watched a tremor move through her.

  He knew exactly what she was thinking. Their minds were running down the same path at breakneck speed, and if he didn’t keep his foot on the brake… He raised a hand to finger his collar as a reminder. “It’s perfect. I could see doing a morning prayer service here while the sun is rising.”

  Prayer service. Glancing away, Naomi tried to picture it in her mind. And failed. All she’d been able to think about since they’d sat down in the sand was the scene from The Thornbirds movie in which Father Ralph had chased Meggie across the sand and finally trapped her beneath him. Only it hadn’t been Richard Chamberlain and Rachel Ward she’d been picturing. It had been Dane and her.

  It could so easily be her lying beneath Dane in the shallows. As the images played out in her mind, she’d felt the ebb and flow of sand and shells beneath her back and the much faster rhythm she was creating as she matched the movements of Dane inside of her.

  Turning, she studied him as he sat facing the sea, leaning back on his palms, his long legs stretched out in front of him. They were close, their arms almost touching, and his were covered with hair. She knew that he had hair on his chest, too. What would it feel like against her palms? Against her breasts?

  Everything inside of her yearned to know. And wasn’t that desperate desire for knowledge the ultimate temptation? It had cost Adam and Eve Eden. And if she sat here another second, she was going to climb right on top of him.

  Only to be rejected again? No, to get to the man, she would have to deal with the priest first.

  And she would. She’d thought of something in Hattie’s tower room. She just had to get away from him for a moment to bring it back to mind. Pushing to her feet, she walked on unsteady legs to the edge of the water.

  Dane stood as well, telling himself he was glad that she’d moved. Another few moments and his control would have shredded. She would have been beneath him on the sand and he would have been experiencing that first thrust. Her slick heat would have closed around him, capturing him.

  He stopped short when he realized that he’d followed her to the edge of the sea. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he said, “I’m going to walk along the water for a while.” He didn’t wait for a response. He didn’t trust himself. He had to get away. He had to think.

  He headed in the direction of the farthest pile of rocks and concentrated on clearing his mind of her. If he acted on what he was feeling, how did that make him any better than Michael Davenport?

  Dammit, she’d gotten to him. He never talked about the breakup of his family. He didn’t like revisiting those days or recalling how little he’d been able to do to help his brothers
and sister.

  And that wasn’t what he should be thinking about now. He needed to focus on what he’d learned from her. The money Davenport had swindled out of his investors had to be hidden in one of the little mementoes the man had given to Naomi as a romantic gesture.

  And Davenport had the advantage there. He knew which one was worth the jackpot, and because he’d known Naomi for six months, he might also have a good idea where to look for it. But there hadn’t been any little souvenir-like trinket in the contents of her purse that morning. Had Davenport expected her to be carrying it with her?

  “Hey, wait up.”

  Dane turned to find that he’d outpaced Naomi by almost ten feet. As he watched her approach, anger surged through him again. How could Davenport have been around her for six months and not touched her? Not had her?

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. Even at this distance, he could all but taste her. Desire crept into him, slowly and surely pushing out everything else—the threat, the money, his determination to bring Davenport to justice.

  Perhaps if he could have her just once, the ache would go away. In spite of the risk, he could almost convince himself that if he made love to her, he could be free.

  “You’re angry,” she said as she reached him.

  He had been a few seconds ago. At himself, because he was coming to loathe what he was doing. What he still had to do. He still needed more information from her. And the clock was ticking.

  He managed a smile. “I’m upset with myself because I’m taking up your time when you’re under a lot of pressure. And you’ve been patient enough to listen to my life’s story. Maybe I could at least return the favor. I’m a very good listener.”

  He saw something in her eyes. Annoyance? Impatience? Then both were gone and what remained was that martial light he’d glimpsed earlier that morning in the parking lot.

  “Actually, you can help me out, Father. I didn’t bring you here strictly on Haworth House business. I also brought you here for personal reasons. I’ve been feeling very guilty, and I want you to hear my confession.”