His Virgin Acquisition Part 7

Marco could see the war that was being waged behind her eyes. The fierce light that had glinted in their blue depths when she'd thought about arguing, the anger when she'd realized she had no choice but to accompany him, to hold to her end of the contract. Then, finally, he'd seen acceptance.

"When do we leave?"

Chapter Six.

THE vibrant colour of the island rushed up into Elaine's vision as the plane began to move closer to the viridian land. The trees were so dense she could hardly see the runway, and it felt as though the plane was going to crash into the thick palms and kukuis that lined the coast.

"It's so beautiful," she said.

Marco barely looked up from his laptop. He was sitting across from her in a captain's chair that was adjacent to the small loveseat she was perched on.

His private plane was the size of her apartment, and was lavishly furnished. She'd probably looked completely gauche when she'd boarded the plane back in New York, her mouth hanging open as she took in the absolute indulgence and luxury of her surroundings.

"Yes. It is. Which is why it's such valuable real estate."

Even the matter-of-fact statement sent a shiver of wanting through her. He could recite baseball statistics and still sound unbearably s.e.xy. She'd had her own bedroom and en suite bathroom for the duration of the thirteen-hour flight, but not even that little bit of privacy had been enough to keep her from feeling horribly, embarra.s.singly aware of the man.

It bordered on being infuriating. Where was her focus? She was so close-twelve months away-to reaching the ultimate prize, and half of her mind, and all of her body, were homed in on Marco.

Maybe it was the natural order. Maybe hormones and normal adult desires could only be ignored and suppressed for so long. Maybe they'd spent the last ten years building up in her system, only to be unleashed on the first desirable male to come within five feet of her.

It wasn't as though she'd never had the opportunity. There had been plenty of men who'd showed interest in her, especially in college. And she'd even liked some of them, dated some of them. But in the end their lack of ambition had made her crazy, while her driving need for success had driven them away. There had been kisses-none of them overly pa.s.sionate, all of them ending at the front door. There had never seemed to be the time or the adequate desire for a physical relationship.

And then there had been Daniel. Whom she'd liked a lot. Whom she'd been attracted to-whom she'd very nearly said yes to when he'd asked that all-important question at the door. But in the end she'd turned down his request to come in, nerves or maybe even morals stopping her from accepting.

That moment of refusal had changed everything. The next day Daniel had started spreading the rumors, and by the end of the day everyone knew why she'd been getting promoted. At least they'd thought they did. n.o.body would believe that she'd gotten the promotions on her own merit, and her co-workers had been more than willing to believe that she'd slept with the boss rather than believing she might actually be good-better than they were-at what she did. And just like that her career had been killed before it had started.

Which brought her full circle to where she was now. On a private plane that had just landed in Hawaii, with her mercenary husband, whom she was appallingly attracted to, and twelve months of marriage to a man who threw her thoroughly off kilter looming ahead of her.

Marco stood when the plane came to a halt, his laptop secured in its travel case. "We will go straight to the Ha.n.a.lei Bay Resort and get settled into our accommodations. Later we will be having dinner with James and his wife."

"Our accommodations? As in, we're sharing?"

Marco watched as hectic color flooded Elaine's face. It was a source of amazement to him that a woman of her age could blush so easily. He preferred a more sophisticated type of woman, the kind of woman who didn't expect anything from a man but a few nights of mutual satisfaction. The only sort of pink any of those women got in their cheeks came from their make-up bag. He found it an interesting sort of challenge, making her blush.

"No, actually I was planning to have you installed down the hall, so that I could use your services by day and entertain my mistress by night."

Color reddened her neck and slowly climbed into her face, staining her cheeks a deep crimson. "Well, the stipulations of the prenup would certainly allow it," she said stiffly.

He chuckled. "You're not getting rid of me so easily, cara mia." He strode across the cabin of the plane and leaned down, cupping her chin and tilting her face up so that she was forced to meet his eyes. "I'm here to play devoted husband." He smoothed his thumb along her lush bottom lip. l.u.s.t attacked him, hot and hard. "And we're on our honeymoon. That means you will be staying very, very close to me."

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and the pink tip slicked across his thumb. Electricity shot from his hand to his groin. Her eyes widened, her pupils dilated. She wanted him. She probably wanted his money even more, but there was no denying that she wanted him physically.

And he ached to take her. To pull her to the floor and have his way with her, pound into her while those gorgeous, endless legs were wrapped high around his waist, as she whispered soft, feminine sounds of pleasure in his ear.

He was so hard it hurt.

But he didn't have any protection with him-and not by accident. He wasn't taking any chances with this mercenary woman he'd married. His own parents had given him an early crash course in the essence of human nature. Greed and self-satisfaction were at the core of every human being. Even the most honest and good could be corrupted for the right amount. With enough incentive a father could throw his family out onto the streets to fend for themselves. A mother could leave her children when she got a better offer than sleeping in alleyways. Yes, the right incentive could entice people to commit all kinds of sins.

He didn't trust the woman. Her motives were anything but pure. He was certain of that. She had lied to her own father and married a stranger, all for her personal gain. He had no intention of falling prey to her. She was a fabulous manipulator. She was a calculating businesswoman, the embodiment of s.e.x appeal, a ruthless compet.i.tor...and a blushing innocent?

Until he was able to ascertain exactly what her true motives were, exactly which of the characters she portrayed reflected the real woman, he would have to keep his distance.

His erection pulsed in protest.

She turned her face away and picked up her purse. When she faced him again her composure was intact. The face of the fl.u.s.tered girl covered by the mask of a perfectly collected, icy businesswoman.

She was either a very good actress or a very nave young woman who was in way over her pretty blond head. It bothered him immensely that he wasn't able to figure it out for certain.

She pushed past him, and the tips of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s brushed lightly against his chest. Her eyes widened fractionally and she hurried to break the contact. It seemed natural, like an honest mistake. But if there was one thing he knew about women it was that they practiced looking natural until they had it honed to a fine art.

"Well, there had better be two beds." She craned her long, elegant neck and lowered her eyelids, the light lashes fanning across her cheekbones.

He studied her beautiful, haughty profile. Everything about her was designed to entice men. Even, he was discovering, her ice queen routine. She was a challenge-a challenge that roused something in the most primitive, unenlightened, masculine part of him.

A man who really understood female beauty would be able to see hers-be able to appreciate the rarity of it, the quality, even buried beneath the layers of boardroom armor. And any man who recognized her beauty would want a taste of it. Would want to draw from her a response. Would want to make her shed her inhibitions, to take the tight knot of her hair down and sift it through his fingers. Kiss her, make her cry out in pleasure. Make her lose every bit of that hardened exterior until she was soft, pliant, and all out of that control she seemed to prize so much.

He was beginning to think she'd been cleverer in crafting her persona than he could have imagined.

He chuckled at her uptight expression. "I don't think honeymoon suites are typically outfitted with two beds. Unless the newly married couple wants to experience a change of scenery now and then, I don't really see the point."

"If this is some sort of childish trick to get me into bed..."

He reached out and hooked an arm around her slender waist and drew her close to his body. "I don't have to stoop to subterfuge to get a woman to sleep with me." He trailed his finger along the line of her collarbone, and he didn't miss the shiver of awareness that racked her slight frame.

She wiggled, extricating herself from his hold. "Well, I'm not going to become another of the legions of notches on your bedpost. Besides, if you add any more notches the whole bedframe is going to collapse-and where would that leave you and your lovers?"

"The floor."

Elaine's heart stuttered. Images of twined tanned and lily-white limbs flashed through her mind's eye. Marco kissing her pa.s.sionately, desire overwhelming them to the point that they couldn't make it to the bed, Marco taking her gently to the floor, settling between her thighs...

She blinked, trying to stop the erotic slideshow.

The look in Marco's dark eyes told her that they were experiencing a moment of identical thought, and that was enough to bring common sense and sanity back.

"Cla.s.sy." She sounded prissy even to her own ears.

"Cla.s.s is sometimes overrated. Particularly in the bedroom."

The fact that he was always ready with some casual, off-the-cuff response was infuriating. She couldn't hope to compete with him there. She lacked both the sophistication and the experience to fake nonchalance when he said things like that. Before this moment s.e.x on the floor had never even crossed her mind, and she was way too busy grappling with the new, unsettling notion to try and be witty.

"Where is my luggage?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't comment on the abrupt subject change.

His wicked half-smile told her he knew exactly what had prompted her to shift the gears of the conversation. "One of my flight staff will see that it gets put in the rental car."

She held back a comment about the excesses of having staff on a private plane. They were going to be meeting James Preston soon and they were supposed to look like blissed-out newlyweds, not tense strangers.

She followed Marco out of the plane and into the balmy outdoors. A warm salt breeze was blowing in off the sea. The tang from the salt mingled with the smell of moisture and tropical flowers to create a heady perfume. It smelled like sensuality, and it made her acutely conscious of her body. And Marco's.

"Aloha oe."

They stepped onto the tarmac and a woman with glossy black hair and burnished copper skin slipped a fresh flower lei over Elaine's head, then Marco's. Elaine didn't think it was her imagination that the double-cheek-kiss the woman planted on Marco lingered longer than was strictly necessary.

"Aloha," Marco said, his husky voice making the word sound exotic and s.e.xy-like an invitation. An invitation to engage in bedpost-demolishing activity. It wasn't as though she could blame the woman. Marco was a walking advertis.e.m.e.nt for the pleasures of the flesh.

Elaine saw the woman slip a card into the pocket of Marco's pants and a strange, heated emotion rolled through her stomach, causing it to cramp and twist. Jealousy? She'd never actually experienced the emotion before, and it wasn't the time or the place to start feeling it now. Or the man to feel it for.

A glossy silver Mercedes McLaren was parked near the edge of the tarmac, the convertible top down, the keys in the ignition. She ought to have figured that Marco didn't go to the rental counter like mere mortals.

Marco opened the pa.s.senger door, his smile aimed only at her. He looked every inch the devoted husband. He wouldn't have any trouble convincing James Preston he'd reformed.

As long as he doesn't convince you.

She brushed the thought aside as soon as it popped into her mind. She didn't care if he did truly reform and decide he wanted love, commitment, and two point four kids. He could find them with some other woman who actually wanted those things. She wanted to realize her full potential, not become a casualty of marriage-a mere accessory to a husband who valued her about as much as he did his brand-new Rolex.

She'd seen it happen to her mother. Seen the decline of her self-esteem. Seen her make an absolute fool of herself over male attention, craving validation from her husband and, when that failed, from her many young lovers, unable to find value in herself. Elaine had vowed she would never be that woman. She would never pin her hopes, dreams and sense of self-worth on someone else.

Marco put his hand on the small of her back, and she all but leapt into the car to escape the burn of his touch through her thin b.u.t.ton-up blouse. The cool, b.u.t.ter-soft leather of the seat helped to douse some of the flames that his touch had ignited, but the embers still burned in her veins. She hoped he didn't notice how much he affected her physically. One look at his dazzling grin as he sank into the car told her he was acutely, absolutely aware of what he did to her.

The virgin and the playboy. It was an unfair pairing. She had never felt this level of desire for a man in her life, and she certainly didn't have any practice suppressing it.

The high-performance engine roared to life and Marco tapped the gas pedal, taking the sleek sports car from zero to sixty in a fraction of a second.

Elaine's eyes widened when she looked at the speedometer. "Slow down!"

Marco took a sharp corner on the narrow two-lane road with ease. "A car like this isn't meant for slow."

After a few moments she relaxed. The car handled with total precision, and Marco was in complete control of the roaring beast. He tamed it, harnessed its power, drawing from it the response he wanted-a response only he could command...and just like that her mind was back on s.e.x.

He had that effect on women, all women, she thought sourly, as she remembered the forward actions of the gorgeous native woman.

"Did that...did that woman at the airport give you her phone number?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the card, setting it in Elaine's lap. "I hadn't checked."

The digits on the card confirmed what Elaine had suspected. "That's nice. We're here on our honeymoon and she's trying to pick you up."

He chuckled, low and throaty. "It makes a case for there being two beds in our honeymoon suite."

Her face heated, but not from embarra.s.sment this time. "That's disgusting."

"You're the one who made the rules of the arrangement, Elaine."

"I hardly imagined you bringing another woman back to our shared hotel room."

"Give me a bit more credit than that," he said, sounding darkly amused. "It isn't as though I've slept with every woman I've been photographed with. My bedpost actually remains pretty st.u.r.dy."

She didn't know why, but the knot of tension that had settled in her chest loosened a fraction. "I guess we're both victims of false press."

He shrugged. "It's all part of having ambition. There are a lot of people who want to get to the top. They want fame and fortune, and if they have to take others down in the process they're more than willing. Your downfall opened doors for more than one person at your firm, didn't it?" She nodded in the affirmative. "It's probably why your colleagues latched onto it with so much glee. Your descent from grace was the secret to their success."

"I guess I lack the killer instinct. Maybe I should have spread some gossip of my own."

"I sincerely doubt you lack the killer instinct." He reached over and took her left hand, lifting it so that her engagement ring and newly acquired wedding band caught the sunlight. "This is proof."

"What does it say about you, then?" she huffed.

He laughed. "No one has ever accused me of being a soft touch."

Not outside the bedroom. He didn't have to add that last part, her imagination did it all by itself. She imagined that in bed he could be a soft touch, or a demanding touch-whatever his lover desired.

She slammed the brakes on her runaway imagination and concentrated instead on the lush scenery that surrounded them. The water was clear and brilliant. Spinner dolphins swam alongside the coastline, seeming to follow them as they drove down a road that was slowly winding up the heavily forested green mountainside.

The road dead-ended at the top of the mountain, ending at a heavy wrought iron gate with a number pad and intercom mounted on it. Marco leaned in and entered a series of numbers with his long tanned fingers. She couldn't stop herself from enjoying his hands again.

The gates opened and they continued up the steep drive.

The hotel was built into the side of the mountain, the balconies for each room segmented and private, overlooking an impossibly gorgeous bay with surreally bright water and a luxuriant natural landscape, with an abundance of vibrant tropical blooms.

Everything on the island seemed like a sensory overload to her. The air was thick with salt from the ocean; mist was rising from the fresh rainfall and the perfume of flowers. The colors were overly saturated. The blanket of green that covered the mountain was thick and dense, a shocking contrast to the ever-brownish haze of smog that blanketed the city of New York. It was like having a veil ripped from her eyes and having her five senses fully realized for the first time.

Not necessarily a good thing, since her awareness of the man who was her temporary husband had also gone up several notches.

Marco slipped his arm around her waist and led her to the front entrance of the hotel. Pink and orange sunset vines clung to the stone exterior. Far from giving it a rustic appearance, the invasion of nature upon the man-made structure made it look all the more exclusive.

A small crew of sharply dressed men exited the hotel and greeted them with broad smiles. A young man with blond hair shook Marco's hand firmly. "Aloha, Mr. De Luca. Mr. Preston is in a meeting, and is regretful he is not able to greet you and your new bride. My name is Jonathan, and I would love to take care of any needs you might have. The Ano Lani villa has been reserved for you. It's nearly half a mile up the coastline. If you like, myself or one of the other men can drive you and a.s.sist in the unloading of your luggage."

"Thank you, but it won't be necessary. Perhaps just a map of the resort?"

Jonathan reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a sleek brochure. "If there is anything else in particular you need, the concierge will be pleased to see to it."

"I don't think the charger for my BlackBerry made it into my luggage," Marco said. "I would like to have one delivered to the villa as soon as possible."

After receiving the make and model information Jonathan and crew went back into the hotel to complete their mission.

It was amazing the kind of service money could buy. Her family were well off by most standards, but they would hardly have been able to aspire to be guests at a place like this. Marco only had to sign a check and he would own it. The intensity of that amount of wealth, that amount of power, was staggering. She understood why he was concerned with guarding his a.s.sets. Even the most scrupulous of people would be tempted to try a taste of what Marco enjoyed so freely.

She wondered if he even realized just how incredible it was that he was in such a position. He probably didn't. He had been born into wealth, and from it had fashioned almost immeasurable riches. No wonder he was so arrogant. Asking him to understand her position was like asking Zeus to step down from Mount Olympus to play cards.

"You didn't forget your charger," she said accusingly as she got back into the small sleek car. As if he would forget any detail-no matter how small.