The Deeper the Passion.... Jennifer Lewis

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The Deeper the Passion... - Jennifer Lewis Mills & Boon Desire

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plans. She might need to pull back at some point and she didn’t want her own rampant desires to make that almost impossible.

      Jack handed her a brimming glass of pale gold wine. “To treasure.”

      “Treasure.” She smiled and lifted her glass. The wine tasted delicious, smooth, rich, cool and refreshing after the hot sun outside. “Jewels and coins and gold bars for you, part of an old cup for me.”

      “That doesn’t sound fair.” His dark eyes sparkled behind the lock of hair hanging down to them. “Maybe we’ll have to find you a gold necklace or a stash of rings.”

      She held out one of her pale, bony hands. “As you can see, I’m not much of a ring wearer.”

      “You might change your mind, for the right one.”

      “Don’t count on it.” She glanced at her empty ring finger. She did not intend to live her life by anyone else’s rules. “But I’d be happy to sell it for a handsome profit.” She shone him a bright smile. “In fact, that’s my intended future business, so it would be a nice jump start.”

      “I heard you were working for an auction house.”

      “That was my apprenticeship. Now that I know what things are worth, I plan to go out on my own.” She sipped her wine again. “This is good stuff. Tastes expensive.”

      “You do know what things are worth.” His eyes crinkled in a smile.

      “You’re funny, Jack. You always look so casual and act like you don’t care about money, but you do enjoy the finer things in life.”

      “One of my many weaknesses.”

      “Hmm, makes me wonder what your other weaknesses are.” Not a soft heart, for sure. Which is why he’d never fallen for anyone.

      “A passion for a fickle mistress.” He looked at her over his glass.

      “The sea.” She knew it wouldn’t be a real woman.

      He nodded. “Though she’s been good to me.”

      “She’s giving you all the riches she took from the hundreds of men and women who’ve died off this coast over the centuries.”

      “I did say she was fickle.”

      “And obviously has her favorites.”

      A slow smile crept across his mouth. “Let’s go sit where we can see her.” He led the way out onto a veranda with a view out over the sea grape in the dunes. Blue and steady, the ocean lay before them like a velvet throw. She could hear the waves crashing on the beach, but couldn’t see them because they were hidden by the dunes. Jack ushered her to sit on a sleek upholstered outdoor sofa. When she was seated, he eased himself down next to her and flung his arm casually on the back of the sofa behind her.

      Her neck and shoulders prickled with awareness. Of course he was doing it deliberately. He wanted to taunt and tempt her. He had every intention of seducing her. And she might even let him, but not until they were at least on the way to finding the cup. Otherwise he might find he’d already got what he wanted and send her packing.

      She twisted the stem of her wineglass in her hands. “Because there’s a reward, there are probably other people looking. We need to move fast.”

      “We’ll start tomorrow at first light.”

      “When is that?”

      “Six or so is when you can start to tell the sea from the shore.”

      She cringed inwardly. Jack probably didn’t even drink coffee in the morning. She usually started the day with her familiar newspapers and a hearty meal to ground herself before venturing out into the cold, cruel world. The prospect of having to drag herself out of bed and onto the sea without those reassuring comforts was frightening. And she’d better buy something for her stomach. If she’d known the cup was under the sea, she might have been better prepared. “Where’s the nearest drugstore?”

      “Headache?”

      She hesitated. “Nope. I might need a little something for my stomach on the boat tomorrow.” She avoided his eyes. “It’s always good to be prepared.”

      “Don’t worry. My larder’s well stocked.” His eyes twinkled. Maybe he’d give her a placebo so she’d be leaning over the edge of the deck, begging for mercy. “We can stay out at sea for days at a time. Weeks even.”

      “I’m not sure I’d survive weeks trapped on a boat with you, Jack.”

      “I suspect you could survive almost anything.” His arm shifted behind her, and she tried to ignore the shimmer of response that slid through her body. “You look slender and insubstantial on the outside, but you’re made of sturdy stuff.”

      “I hope so.” She’d need to be to make it through this trial. Being this close to Jack was having a dangerous effect on her sanity. Which didn’t make any sense. He was just another rich, handsome bozo and she had years of experience and training in dealing with them. “I guess only time will tell.”

      “You look different.” His eyes narrowed. He studied her face for a moment while her pulse quickened.

      “It has been six years since I saw you.” Did she look older? Her dad had aged dramatically during his swift and private fall from grace. Hollows appeared under his eyes and cheekbones, and his skin developed a bluish undertone. “You, on the other hand, look exactly the same.”

      Not exactly. Time and the sun, working hand in hand, had made him look rugged and distinguished. His eyes still had that insolent flash to them, and his lip that disdainful way of curving upward so you couldn’t tell if he was laughing with you or at you.

      Did she imagine it or did his left thigh creep imperceptibly closer to her right one? She could almost feel the heat of it through her pants. The salt air filled her lungs and made her giddy.

      “I don’t know what exactly is different.” His eyes rested on her face—her cheek, to be precise, because she was avoiding his gaze by staring at the horizon. “Something big, though.”

      She shrank a little under his inquisitive look. She was quite a different person than the brash, confident and empty-headed girl who’d partied and had sex on the beach with him that summer. Then she’d thought the world was hers for the taking and she was taking a vacation before seizing it. The years since had taught her that the world wasn’t too interested in whether she wanted it and that the foundation of her life—the privilege and wealth afforded by her proud family—had been built on the shifting sands of illusion.

      She certainly didn’t intend for him to find out about that. No, they could laugh about that later once she’d made a name for herself and didn’t need to rest on anyone else’s laurels. Right now, though, she was hanging in thin air, and she intended to keep that a secret.

      Which might be interesting, because she’d already committed to sharing a bed with him. Hopefully she wouldn’t talk in her sleep.

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