

Nick picked up the decanter and poured himself a snifter of brandy. His office, with its rich masculine colors, black slate tiles and warm suede sofa and chairs, normally gave him solace. But not tonight.
His thoughts kept turning to Annie---to how she would handle the hurricane alone back in her rooms. And damned if he also couldn't help but wonder what she might be wearing as she retired for the night.
Did she wear one of those frilly, see-through contraptions that some women liked to wear to bed? If so, he knew it would be silky soft but full of wild, exotic tones, just like Annie herself. Her nightwear would never be simple white or black, he was positive.
For Annie, the hue would have to be a deep, forest green to match her eyes---or perhaps a vibrant turquoise like the waters here in the Caribbean. He could even imagine her in a blast of lipstick-red or a cool Mediterranean-coral that would complement her coloring.
Shaking his head, he put the glass to his lips and let the warm, liquid fire ease down his throat. He shouldn't be doing this, having indecent thoughts about a woman who was his employee. It wasn't particularly honorable nor faithful to the memory of his wife.
But what if Annie wore a T-shirt to bed? Or perhaps she wore nothing at all.
The stab of heat that image brought cut him clear down to his gut. He slouched on the office's wide, comfortable sofa and glanced over to the framed photograph of Christina that sat on the end table beside him.
His wife's cool, blond image stared back. He'd always loved the way Christina's sophisticated hairstyles had matched her polished method of dressing. She'd seemed to him to be the perfect fragile, silver angel. But he'd never felt the sharp pang of desire for Christina that the mere thought of Annie's clothes could bring to him.
Nor had he ever felt any emotion that might qualify as love for her. No matter how badly he'd wanted to feel it at the time.
He closed his eyes and waited for the familiar melancholy to settle over him. Thirty years old, and he had only had sex with one woman in his entire lifetime. Some men would think that was an old-fashioned ideal, but he had never wanted there to be anyone else but his wife. And now that he knew he was incapable of having children, it was the only honorable thing to do.
It irritated him that tonight, when he should be remembering ethereal Christina's flawless face and the consuming way she had loved the sea, all he could picture in his mind was earthy Annie and the sound of her laughter as it wafted through the air and settled low in his body.
Annie was pure temptation, tempting him to leave behind his safe gray world. Her eyes were hypnotic, her voice the siren sound of sensual desire.
Banishing all thoughts of her, Nick stood and poured himself another brandy. Then he turned and lifted his glass toward his wife's photograph.
"Here's to you, darling," he toasted. "I've kept all my promises. Your marine mammal center is fully functional and I will make sure only the best research is ever done there."
He took a sip and let the guilt run down his throat. "And I'm sorry I couldn't be everything you needed while you were alive. I couldn't give you the child you so desired and I pushed you to be what I expected you to be."
He'd left out a big part of Christina's story when he'd told it to Annie. Deliberately, he'd neglected to tell her about the pain, the anger and the cold doubts about Christina's death.
Waiting for the icy ache of dislocation that usually came over him when he thought about his lost wife's missed opportunities, he noticed instead that he just felt numb. Unlike last year's ritual of goodbye, this year the pain of the loss had softened around the edges. It had become indistinct and blurry.
He needed that sharp pain to return. To remind him of the emptiness---and of his promises.
Downing the second glass of brandy, Nick poured himself another. It was almost the time for his agreed-upon call to the research center to check on their progress with the storm.
The idea that the dolphins might be helpless if they happened to escape the lagoon where they were raised gave him cold chills. But once again there was nothing he could do to keep the sea from wreaking whatever havoc it chose to inflict. At this point, he was much more helpless in the ocean than the dolphins.
As he headed for his desk phone, Nick caught sight of the gypsy's book. He reached out to touch it, but withdrew his hand when the book felt warm to his touch. Not tonight.
Nick wasn't quite ready to face children's fairy tales tonight. Now that he knew he would never be a father, any reminder of what he would be missing seemed too cruel.
The gypsy said the book would bring him to his heart's desire. Not likely. Rather, tales of love and happily ever after would only bring him more pain.
Turning away from the book, he decided that after the call was made, he and the decanter of Napoleon were going to spend some quality time on the sofa, riding out the storm. And trying to control any wayward thoughts of Annie.
She was just another reminder of all the things he could never have.
"Oh, no you don't," Passionata Chagari warned as she stared down into her crystal ball.
This brash young Scoville was determined to ignore the magic. But the old gypsy woman would not let him get away with that.
She was not supposed to stir into the future, but to Hades with regulations. Thinking of ways to move him on toward his destiny, Passionata concentrated on the ultimate goal.
The hurricane... Yes, perhaps their safe refuge had a weak spot. Something that would bring Nicholas closer to the truth, yet would not damage his self-image for the time being.
The young man had a lot to learn and a lot to unlearn. And this old gypsy using her father's magic was just the person who could teach him the lessons.
The lights flickered one more time and Annie set the book down beside her on the bed and stared at the bedside lamp. Maybe if she kept a careful watch on it for a few minutes, the electricity would hold still long enough for her to finish one more chapter.
She'd been having some difficulty concentrating on the wonderful new romance novel that her sister Brenna had sent in a care package that had arrived just yesterday. Bless Brenna, Annie thought. Chocolate bars, fingernail polish, a bar of vanilla-scented soap and a new novel by her favorite author. What more could a person want?
Annie glanced at her newly polished toenails and smiled. The island village did have a small grocery store that carried the basics. But they certainly didn't carry blue nail polish.
The sounds of the storm caught her attention as it intensified outside the walls of her room. The winds roared and tree branches whipped against the roof and windows. She felt safe and secure here in her suite, though.
This whole single-story wing of the house was brand-new, built within the past five years. Everything was so fresh and clean with its seashell motif and the beige and white paint, bedspread and drapes. Much more sophisticated than her room back home.
Her gaze landed back on the open book beside her. It was a terrific romance. But she couldn't read more than a paragraph or two without thinking about Nick.
For weeks now, she'd been having dreamy fantasies about her boss. She'd tried to squelch them. Fantasizing about her boss was a complication that felt way beyond her abilities.
But every time she closed her eyes, his silky blond hair with its silver tips and his wide sensual mouth kept creeping into her mind, making her fingers burn to touch them. Along with some other parts of him that she wouldn't want to admit, even to herself.
And every time recently that the two of them had been close enough to touch in real life, she'd felt giddy and nervous and not at all like her normal self. She'd even noticed that she'd been giggling and sweating whenever he came close. For heaven's sake.
She'd given it a lot of thought. Regardless of how irritating Nick could be at times, this just had to be a real old-fashioned crush. She had certainly seen her older sisters go through similar things enough times.
As teens in an all girls' school, her sisters had never been interested in anything else but boys. They'd begged to be let out on dates. Their strict parents had tried to keep the gates locked and the temptations to a minimum, but her sisters had found sneaky ways around the rules.
During her own teen years, Annie had gossiped on the phone with girlfriends and dreamed about a Prince Charming coming to sweep her off her feet. But she'd been too focused on her athletic teams, her studies and her books to work all that hard on finding boyfriends. In high school, getting an athletic scholarship to college had been her biggest goal.
She had dated a few times in college, but she'd been so busy thinking up a way out of the house and out of Boston that it hadn't left much time to worry about finding the perfect man. After college, her dreams had slowly turned to a desperation for travel, seeing the world and all the wonderful and far-off places she'd been reading about all her life.
"And boy did I get more than I'd ever thought possible," she said aloud to her empty designer room.
Nick's Caribbean island was like something out of one of her favorite novels. She was doing what she'd always dreamed of doing. So the idea of being caught up in her first real crush at the age of twenty-four was a bit much.
Silly, she mused. She'd better dig down deep and find some of that practical good sense, just like her mother had always cautioned. Nick was about as attainable as one of her fairy-tale princes.
Throughout the evening, the storm battered the roof and the sides of the house with pelting rains and gale force winds. Nick awakened several times to the sounds of something heavy hitting the house.
At midnight he prowled through the darkened main house, worrying about the dolphins in their protected lagoon. The storm had turned course slightly and they were catching more of the hurricane than anyone had predicted.
The electricity had gone out about an hour ago and he had not been able to reach any of the research team since then. Using a flashlight, he entered the kitchen and immediately his thoughts turned from dolphins to Annie. Dammit. Not again. He had to stop this.
Just then, a tremendous noise echoed through the house, loud enough to be heard above the storm.
Nick turned and made his way in the dark to Annie's quarters as fast as he could. He threw open the hallway door and barged right into her rooms, yelling at the top of his lungs.
"Annie! Where are you?" He flipped the beam of the flashlight around but found only an empty bed.
The sounds of the storm had grown louder in here and he could feel the air stirring. He turned toward the source of the wind and bolted to the open bathroom door, reaching it with little trouble in the dark.
But when he stepped inside the threshold, he found chaos. A huge palm tree lay half-inside the bathroom while the other half was still caught by the corner of the roof. But there were fronds and broken glass and now rainwater building higher on the tile floor.
And Annie stood on the counter in the middle of it all, trying to shove bath towels into the hole in the roof.
He swore once then moved toward her through the debris. "Are you all right? Just leave the damned thing alone and come away from there."
"I don't have my shoes. I think I already cut my foot on the glass," she hollered above the roar of the rains.
"Then put your arms around my neck. I'll carry you."
"You can't carry me! I'm too heavy," she protested.
He waded closer to the counter. "My personal trainer would disagree with you on that one. She says I'm a lot stronger than I look." He'd said it with a forced smile as he reached to tug her down into his waiting arms, but he was too concerned about her safety to be very gentle.
Annie rolled against his chest and hooked an arm around his neck. Holding onto the flashlight with one hand, he pressed her close. She was as light as a baby in his protective embrace---and soaking wet from standing in the rain that was coming in through the roof.
Slick and cool against his naked, warm chest, Annie's body slipped lower against his abdomen. He groaned silently and begged for strength. The friction of her skin rubbing against his skin was causing him to lose his mind.
Carrying her, Nick quickly stepped into the bedroom and slammed the bathroom door behind him. He gently let her slide the rest of the way down his body to the bed.
"The bathroom is a mess, and I'm worried about the integrity of the roof on this whole section of the house," he told her as he stepped back and let the flashlight illuminate the room. "Let's get you some dry clothes and then you and I will have to spend the rest of the hurricane in my office. It's in a part of the house that's been through several previous hurricanes and should be safe enough."
"Yessir, master," she quipped as she prepared to get off the bed.
"Cute. But stay put." Nick put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down. "Just tell me where to look for your things. You shouldn't stand until we have a chance to attend to your cut foot."
Frustrated, Annie scowled up at him. "I can get around by myself. I've always excelled at one-footed races."
"Stay there," he demanded once again and moved to her closet. "We have to hurry. Tell me what you need."
Annie directed him to the drawer with her shorts and T-shirts. Then she watched as he and the light disappeared into the huge walk-in closet. She would've liked to have dry underwear too, but simply could not imagine having him sift through her bras and panties.
Nick was back in an instant. "You carry your clothes and the light," he ordered as he shoved shirt, shorts and flashlight into her hands. "I'll carry you."
Once more, he lifted her easily. She closed her eyes for a second, much too aware of where his body was touching hers. But the flashlight was in her possession, so she opened her eyes and tried to keep the beam steady, showing him the way through the darkened house.
His arm was tight around her back, while her side was pressed against his firm naked chest. She wasn't accustomed to seeing him without a shirt. He'd always worn T-shirts to work out.
The muscles that she'd help create, bulged and bunched as he moved them past darkened obstacles. She tightened her grip around his neck and clung to him as she felt herself slipping down his body. Both of them were sweating and slick in the heat and humidity.
He dragged her up closer and she caught a whiff of something that smelled like good old-fashioned soap, coming from his sweat-glistened skin. The familiar scent seemed unbelievably masculine all of a sudden.
An electric tingle rushed across her skin and she could barely breathe. Having him carry her in his arms had turned into one of the most erotic experiences of her entire lifetime.
A few moments later, Nick entered a guest bathroom that she'd never been in before. "I'm going to let you down now. Do you think you can change clothes on one foot while I go locate the first aid kit?"
He bent to help her keep steady on her one good leg. But as she slid down his body, she felt the unmistakable thrust of aroused male against her back. She twisted and grabbed for his shoulders, shaken by her own desire as much as by his.
"Uh...hold on to the counter," Nick said roughly. "Everything will be fine as soon as you change and I doctor your wound.
"Keep the light with you," he urged with a rush as he stepped away and thrust a dry towel at her. "I can find my way in the dark to get another flashlight."
"But, Nick..."
Whatever she would've said to make him take the light with him was lost. He disappeared into the darkened hallway and left her all alone to wonder what had caused both of them to totally lose their senses.
"Let me look at your foot, Annie." Nick was standing before her as she sat on the edge of the bathroom counter.
His body took up all the air and space in what she'd thought before was a huge room. He'd brought the first aid kit and a kerosene lantern back with him. Being able to see his expression and his steel-blue eyes was not helping her feel any less nervous.
She lifted her foot toward him before remembering her new toenail polish. It was too late now.
"I tried to wash the cut while I was waiting for you to come back," she said with a shaky voice.
He turned her foot in his warm hands and stared down at her toes. "What color is that? Blue?" It felt so strange, having him touching her bare foot that way.
She'd hoped that he would never have to see her little girly choice of polish. How embarrassing. She should be wearing her athletic shoes, like she nearly always did.
"My sister sent it to me. I was just messing around tonight while I waited out the storm. It's not my usual color. I---"
"I like it on you," he interrupted with a raspy chuckle. "It's fresh and full of energy. Just like you."
"Oh." Annie was totally overwhelmed by the heat she'd seen in his eyes.
Nick still had hold of her foot. Suddenly she realized what was happening. She was aroused by having him touch her bare skin. And if she didn't miss her guess, Nick was aroused as well. Jeez. Now what?
"The cut doesn't look too deep," he told her as he studied it. "Do you think you washed all the glass out?"
"I'm pretty sure."
He raised his eyes to question her and she was immediately struck dumb by his nearness. His face was mere inches from her own. If she just leaned forward slightly, she could kiss those full lips. She could reach out and pull him in for the pleasure of it.
Her imagination began to run away with her and ripples of some unnamed sensation ran down her spine as he began to bandage her feet. It was too intense and she closed her eyes so he wouldn't guess what she was thinking.
Nick had to bite the inside of his cheek in order to get through bandaging Annie's wound. It was all he could do not to ravish her right there in the bathroom.
It had been easy to see that she wanted him. If not because of the sexy bedroom way she'd been staring at his lips, then because of the way her nipples had peaked against the thin material of her T-shirt as he tended to her wound.
Obviously, she wasn't wearing a bra. But then, he remembered that she'd been in her silky shorty pajamas when the roof had caved in. Of course she wouldn't wear a bra to bed. And he hadn't retrieved any underwear for her on their way out of her suite.
Knowing that was driving him crazy. He didn't want to stare at her chest. It had been tough enough before when she'd felt his arousal against her back. Good Lord. Male anatomy was such a pain sometimes.
It was a huge relief to finally have her bandaged and safe and sound on the sofa in his office. Now he had to find something to do to keep them both occupied through the rest of this storm.
He absolutely refused to give in to his body's demands. He was a much better man than that.
"Do you want to try to get some sleep? That sofa is fairly comfortable," he asked with too much force.
"Are you kidding? Who could sleep with all the excitement of the hurricane?"
"Hopefully, we've had the last of the exciting events for this storm."
"Are you going to sleep?"
He shook his head. "No." Exasperated and enchanted with her all at the same time, he gave in to the situation and leaned back against the edge of his desk. "I guess we should keep each other company while we wait it out."
He'd wanted it to be easier. He'd wanted her asleep so his libido would let him off the hook. But nothing about Annie ever seemed easy. Passionate, sensual and so full of life an aura of energy fairly shimmered around her.
"I've heard of hurricane parties. Maybe we could have one of those."
"Hmm. Depends on your idea of what would constitute a party."
"Well...there would be music. There's always music at a good party."
He smiled, despite himself. "If you haven't noticed, the only music you hear in this house comes from your CD player in the gym. And without electricity, retrieving that now would be useless."
"No music? My gosh, I hadn't realized." She stared up at him. "I can't imagine living in a house without music. At home, you could walk through the house and every room would have a different song playing. Don't you like music?"
"It isn't that," he confessed. "Growing up we didn't have much music in our house...aside from an occasional piano concerto played during a business reception."
"Your family had a piano and you didn't play it?"
He tried to keep the grimace off his face, but it was impossible. "I wanted to learn. But my father said piano playing would be of no use in business. I had the feeling he didn't think it was particularly masculine either."
Annie laughed. "Don't tell that to my brother Ryan. He plays every kind of music there is. Good enough that he can even take requests. And he's no sissy. He was a fullback on the Notre Dame football team. Now he's a fireman in Cambridge. He'd be a grand person to invite."
She'd been so animated as she talked about her brother. It was obvious that she loved her family. Her face glowed and she had bounced in her seat as she'd waved her hands throughout the story.
God, how he wanted her.
He would give up a month of his life to just once be able to capture that sexy mouth with his own. To run his hands through her fiery curls. To touch that smooth skin and finally bury himself deep inside her waiting warmth.
She was still driving him insane.
Waving a hand as if to dismiss the problem, she said, "Don't worry about the music. I can sing later if need be. What we really should have is beer or ale. That's another absolute necessity for a good Irish party."
"Sorry. I doubt that there's a beer in the house."
"Don't you like beer, either? My father would call you a heretic." She laughed and the flashing green fire in her eyes made him too aware of her teasing.
"Be serious for once," he scowled. "Perhaps we should play a game of chess to pass the time."
"Don't know how to play. How about Hearts? I used to love to play that with my family."
"Hearts?"
"It's a card game."
He shrugged. "No playing cards in the house."
"Oh my gosh. A house with no playing cards and no beer. That's just sad."
He found himself laughing at his own expense. "You are absolutely impossible." But joking with her was turning him on even more than before. "I suppose in some ways I've been living in a dull world. At least it must seem that way to you," he managed.
"Oh I don't think your world is dull at all." She smiled and he felt his knees go weak. "Look around you. This is a fabulous mansion on an exotic Caribbean island. You can get on a jet and go anywhere in the world you want, any time you want. And in the meantime, you have a dolphin research facility where you can play with and talk to marine mammals. If that's not colorful, I don't know what is."
Through her eyes, the gray in his world faded away. It made him want more...more vibrancy...more life...more of Annie.
He loved to hear her talk. Just talk. Her voice had a lilt to it that rolled over him like warm honey.
"How about if we just talk to pass the time?" he asked, desperate to find something to take his mind off her body.
"Okay." She seemed to think that over a minute. "I know. We can tell stories."
"What kind of stories?"
"Ghost stories. With no electricity and all these shadows from the lanterns and candles jumping all over the room, ghost stories would be lots of fun."
He sat down on the sofa next to her. "I don't know any ghost stories."
"What? What kind of education have you had?" She chuckled and her eyes danced with delight.
Then she slid a glance over his shoulder and her whole demeanor suddenly changed. Her face drew up and her eyes grew dismal. Nick turned to see what had caught her attention and ruined her mood.
As he turned, he realized that she was staring at the picture of Christina. Hell.
He stood, grabbed the photo away from its spot on the table. "There are some ghost stories better left untold."
"Please don't move that because of me," she said sadly.
"Uh, I've been meaning to put it over behind my desk with the others of her." He stashed it, face-down, on the credenza in the darkest corner of the room. "She never cared much for that photograph anyway."
As he walked back to Annie's side, Nick noticed that she had tears in her eyes. Her expression was filled with sorrow and the tears welling there were poised to spill over her face.
"Annie?" He sat down on the sofa beside her again.
"I'm sorry." She fluttered her fingers in front of her as if to will away the tears. "It's just such a tragic love story. A young couple with so much to look forward to."
Nick couldn't stand to see the pain on Annie's face. Not when the truth of the tragedy was that there had been an absence of love. And he always felt better when Annie smiled. When she laughed, the whole world brightened.
A single drop leaked out of the corner of her eye. It tore a huge hole in him and he reached for her, rubbing a thumb under her eye to wipe her pain away with the tear.
"Annie, please..." He'd meant to say "please don't cry." At least, he thought that's what he'd meant.
But somewhere there, the entire mood in the room changed with one deep breath. He lifted her chin, leaned in and traced her full, rosy lips with his tongue. It was beyond him to stop.
Annie made a small sound and threw her arms around his neck to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. She was impossible to resist.
She was everything he'd ever wanted and had refused to let himself take. Though it made him mad to admit it, he knew that all his hard-won scruples and fidelity were just about to disappear into the night right along with his honor.
She moaned again. And a red haze of desire exploded in his head as he let Annie take him completely over the edge of reason.


