One Wild Night With Her Enemy by Heidi Rice

CHAPTER TEN

‘ONYOURFEET, Cassandra!’ Luke’s shouted command carried across the roar of the surf. ‘Now.’

Cassie tensed, her tired muscles straining as she leant forward on the board the way he’d instructed her. You can do this. Get off your knees.

But her fingers refused to obey her. She had only seconds before the wave would barrel past her and she’d miss her chance.

‘Look at me, cher. Don’t look at the board.’

She raised her gaze to find Luke standing a few hundred feet away, thigh-deep in the water.

The surfing lessons had been her idea—why the heck had she suggested them again...? Oh, yeah, because otherwise she and Luke would never have left the house, or rather his bed, in the last four days.

But still her fingers refused to relinquish their death grip on the board.

I can’t do this... I just can’t.

‘Cassandra, you’ve got this.’

The words carried over the tumble of water—powerful, provocative, confident. Confident in her. And in her ability to finally get this right.

And as if by magic the inadequacy which had been holding her back all morning finally let go its stranglehold on her body.

There’s no pressure here except the pressure you put on yourself.

This wasn’t about pleasing Luke. It was about pleasing herself.

The thought was like a light, blasting the last of the doubts out of her brain—and her fingertips.

The tired muscles in her thighs relaxed. She pressed her toes into the board and finally let it go...

Determination surged through her as she rose to a standing position in one fluid movement. Her legs strained, her knees shook, but she stood upright, instinctively assuming the stance Luke had taught her over the past two days—one leg forward, the other back, her arms outstretched to steady herself.

Her body absorbed the kick of power as the board skimmed across the water. The wave broke behind her and the board shot forward.

Suddenly she was flying. And shrieking. Her joy collided with the rush of triumph.

Her knees trembled, but instead of throwing herself into the sea, this time she adjusted her arms to balance her stance.

Still up...still flying.

Luke shouted and punched the air. ‘Way to go, Cassandra. You’re surfing.’

She had one blissful moment to absorb the glory of her achievement. It seeped into her soul and made her heart pound as she flew across the water.

This is what living is actually about.

Then the board wobbled and she tipped, sliding into the surf. She went under, swallowing a mouthful of brine. But it didn’t matter because she had already achieved the impossible.

Cassandra James—surfer extraordinaire!

Strong arms took hold of her and yanked her up, back into the air. Exhilaration joined the joy charging through her veins as she spluttered.

‘You did it, cher.’

A broad smile split Luke’s features, making her heart race fast enough to win The Grand National.

‘Does it still count? Even though I wiped out?’ she said, still not quite able to believe she’d actually stood upright and rode the wave.

‘Of course it counts,’ he said, while he unstrapped the board from her ankle and strapped it to his own wrist. It bounced and bounded behind them as he swung her over his shoulder and marched back to shore.

She giggled as he carried her back through the waves, then deposited her on her feet.

‘Good?’ he asked, the twinkle in his eyes even brighter than the sky.

‘Never better,’ she managed around the emotion forming in her throat.

With his wet hair plastered to his head, the afternoon light gleaming on his tanned face, he was so strong and steady and magnificent in his full body wetsuit.

‘That was fantastic,’ she added.

‘You sure looked fantastic, riding that wave like a pro,’ he said.

‘I’ll just bet I did.’ She choked out a laugh, matched by his rough chuckles, as her racing heartbeat galloped into her throat. ‘I want to do it again,’ she said, still struggling to catch her breath.

But her knees buckled.

He gripped her waist to hold her upright.

‘No way,’ he said, hooking her wet hair behind her ear, the gesture so tender her knees still refused to cooperate. ‘You’re beat and we’ve still got to kayak back to the house.’

She blinked furiously, stunned by the sudden sting of tears that came at the look in his eyes. Not just approval, but respect, admiration, protectiveness. Her heart swelled, pushing uncomfortably against her larynx.

‘Fair point,’ she said.

She stepped back, out of his embrace. Her swollen heart swooped into her stomach and suddenly she was tumbling again—but this time she was in free fall, and she knew there would be no one to catch her.

She rubbed her eyes to stop the stinging. Tried to steady herself again, but her balance was shot even though she was standing on dry land.

The last four days had been amazing. More than amazing. Everything she had wished for and so much more. The sex had been spectacular. Her body was still humming from all the orgasms, some compelling, some searing and seductive, every one of them more intense and unsettling than the last.

But she’d been ready for that, knowing they shared a rare chemistry. What she hadn’t been prepared for when she’d made the decision to stay on Luke’s island and grab this moment with both hands was how good the time they spent out of bed would become.

She’d discovered a side of Luke and a side to herself that felt like more than just a physical connection.

He’d been so patient, so protective and focussed on her. They hadn’t talked again about anything deep or personal, both far too aware of the end date this moment out of their real lives had, but even so she’d discovered something about him that only made him more compelling, more exciting, more...wonderful.

Luke Broussard might think he was a rebel, a loner, an outsider. And he was a man whom she knew had defied all the odds to make such a staggering success out of his life. But underneath all that ruthless determination and ambition he was a born nurturer.

He’d taught her every one of his mother’s signature dishes—she now knew how to cook everything from crawfish étouffée to a mean batch of blueberry pancakes. He also had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the local flora and fauna, which he’d been determined to share. After dragging her off on a couple more hikes through the island’s interior he’d taught her the difference between a hawk and a raptor, a red alder and an Oregon white oak. His boundless patience and energy had also paid rich dividends when he’d dedicated their final two afternoons in Pirates’ Cove to teaching her how to surf.

There had been no judgement, no cutting remarks, no impossible demands, no ultimatums—even though she wasn’t the most able student. Instead there had been only encouragement and excitement at her achievements, however meagre.

The stinging in her eyes got worse. She blinked furiously.

Don’t you dare cry. It’s just the salt water. You have nothing whatsoever to cry about.

He caught her wrist, dragged her fist away from her face. ‘Rubbing them will only make it worse,’ he murmured.

Leaning down he grabbed the bottle of water from his pack, uncapped it.

‘Here, hold steady.’ He cupped her chin, tilted her head back and held one of her eyes open, then the other, to douse them with clean water. ‘Okay?’ he asked, as he handed her a towel to wipe her eyes without re-contaminating them.

‘Yes, thanks,’ she said, trying to smile as her stomach bottomed out.

What had she done? And how did she take this yearning back? They were flying to San Francisco tomorrow. This moment was almost over.

‘Let’s head home,’ he said, gathering up the surfboards to lock in the container he had at the far end of the beach. ‘How about we hit the hot tub, then nuke one of Mrs Mendoza’s pot roasts or something?’

‘Sounds like a plan.’

She made herself smile as she packed up the rest of their stuff for the kayak journey back around the point. But her swollen heart had already snagged on the word ‘home’.

Luke Broussard might be a natural nurturer at heart. But he wasn’t hers—could never be hers.

She swallowed past the raw spot forming in her throat. Somehow or other she was going to have to hold it together tonight, because tomorrow she had to return to reality.

‘Hey, come here.’

Luke gripped Cassandra’s wrist and tugged her into his lap. They’d done some heavy petting in the hot tub, and filled their stomachs with Mrs Mendoza’s enchilada bake, but he’d been itching to make love to her again ever since that moment when she’d stood triumphant on the board and a swell of pride had burst in his chest.

But as he cupped her cheek, leaned in for a kiss, she braced her hands against his chest and pushed him back.

‘Problem?’ he asked, surprised by the edge in his voice.

He didn’t pressure women. But he’d got used to her instant response. That spark of hunger, of need, that had become as natural as breathing—for both of them—every time he reached for her.

Her golden eyes searched his face. ‘No, it’s just... I’m exhausted. I thought I’d head to bed now. In... In the guest bedroom. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow,’ she added hastily. ‘As soon as we get back to the city, I need to check in at the office and start working on my investment report so I can take something tangible back to Temple in a week’s time.’

She was babbling, her nerves evident in the way her body was vibrating under his hands. He stroked her waist, far too aware of the need still thrumming through his system and the instant spurt of anger at the mention of her boss.

Her job was important to her. He got that. And he thought he knew why after spending the last week in her company.

Cassandra was sharply intelligent, focussed and loyal. She was also extremely conscientious. He’d noticed that about her after teaching her everything from how to make a gumbo to how to spot the difference between an oystercatcher and a cormorant. She had an adorable way of processing every single instruction as if her life depended on it... He could imagine she made a brilliant executive assistant. Even if he’d generally tried not to think about her relationship with Temple.

But they’d had an agreement. No work on the island. And she’d broken it. He hadn’t wanted to mix this...whatever this was...with their professional lives.

The truth was, he didn’t want to think about her returning to the UK. And to Temple. Up to now it had been easy to lose himself in the sex and the companionship—which had surprised him more as each day passed. But as she shifted, ready to get off his lap, he found his grip tightening on her waist. He knew he didn’t want to let her go—wasn’t ready to let her go. Not yet.

And, weirdly, he knew it wasn’t just because of the sexual connection that had blindsided them both. Sure, that had been diverting—and intensely pleasurable. But what had captivated him more was her. Her willingness to try new things, to overcome what he’d begun to realise were some fairly major insecurities. Insecurities he suspected she’d hidden behind a shield of competence and capability.

He already knew her father had been a bastard, but when he’d watched her this afternoon, overcoming her fear of failure as she came shooting towards him on the board, her face a picture of pure and uninhibited joy, he’d known he could easily become addicted to that look.

‘I should go to bed...’ she said, sounding exasperated, but he could hear the uncertainty she always made such an effort to hide.

‘I told you I would help you with the report,’ he said.

‘I know, but there’s still a lot to—’

‘How about I introduce you to the start-ups I have in mind in person once we’re back in the city? And you can come with me to the product launch Tuesday next,’ he added, cutting off her argument. ‘Because everyone who is anyone in the tech industry in the US will be there.’

Adrenaline surged as he made the offer off the top of his head and realised that tonight didn’t have to be the end. Not yet. Not if she agreed to his proposal.

Why the hell not continue this liaison? They’d enjoyed themselves on Sunrise. She wasn’t due back in the UK for another week. The product launch was a big deal for Broussard Tech—a chance to take his company to the next level. And, again weirdly, he wanted her by his side for the events he had planned. Not just the launch itself, but the lavish reception afterwards at one of the city’s hippest nightclubs.

‘But...’ She blinked. ‘Really? Are you sure? I... I thought we weren’t going to see each other once we got back to San Francisco,’ she said, blunt as always.

‘That was the plan, but the plan can change.’

He hitched his shoulder. He couldn’t let this matter to him—not too much. But even so his gut twisted when she stared back at him and did that lip-chewing thing again, which had always driven him nuts.

‘No reason why we shouldn’t enjoy the time we have left,’ he added, deciding that mixing this with his professional interests and hers didn’t have to be a bad thing, if it gave them both what they wanted.

Her brow puckered; her thoughts transparent as always. She was torn—he could see that. Torn between taking what she wanted and doing what was right for her boss.

He stifled the prickle of annoyance.

He didn’t like Zachary Temple much, even though he’d never even met the guy. And he liked even less having to help the guy out in order to keep Cassandra with him for a while longer. But if Temple wanted to invest in the US tech scene—as long as it didn’t mean any involvement in Broussard Tech—he would throw the guy a bone just to have Cassandra where he wanted her for the next week. Until this need had run its course.

‘An endorsement from me will give Temple a huge advantage when it comes to getting investment opportunities in Silicon Valley,’ he added.

‘I... I don’t know,’ she said, still tugging on her bottom lip—and making him ache.

‘What don’t you know?’ he asked, not quite able to keep the snap of frustration out of his tone any more. Why was she being so difficult about this? He knew she still wanted him, as much as he wanted her, so what exactly was the issue?

‘I’m not sure what Temple will make of it if he finds out I attended the launch as your guest...’

He hadn’t invited her as a guest, but as his date. His gut knotted, the snap of frustration becoming something darker and more painful.

He pushed it back. Forced himself not to overreact. This was about her job. She was scared of messing up, of looking unprofessional, because that was the kind of woman she was. This wasn’t about him. Or her loyalty to Temple. Not really.

‘Hey... It’s not that big of a deal,’ he said, ignoring the bitter taste in his mouth and the unhappy shaft of memory of all the times he’d been ostracised as a kid, for something he hadn’t been able to change and had no control over.

He captured her chin, lifted her gaze to his. He saw uncertainty and concern.

Yeah, so not about you, Broussard.

‘This is just a chance to enjoy ourselves for a couple more days,’ he said, with a nonchalance he didn’t quite feel. ‘And ensure you get your job done while we’re at it. That’s all. But if you want to call it quits tomorrow, when we get back to the city, I’m good with that, too.’

He waited for her reply, and as he watched the emotions cross her face—concern, confusion, and finally conviction—a weird sense of relief overtook his irritation. Her answer really shouldn’t matter that much. He wasn’t that ostracised kid any more... He didn’t need Cassandra to accept him—or validate him.

‘I... Okay, I’d like that,’ she said, not sounding entirely certain.

But that didn’t stop the surge of vindication rising up his chest and making his stomach bounce.

‘If you’re sure it’s not a bother,’ she added.

‘A bother?’ He grinned—he couldn’t help it. The question was so quintessentially Cassandra, he found it unbearably charming. ‘Non, cher, it’s not a bother.’

She smiled. It was a tentative curve of her lips—as if she still wasn’t sure, but she was willing to take a chance—both brave and sweet. ‘Okay, then. I guess we have a deal.’

His ribs tightened and he had the weirdest thought that if he’d ever had the chance to date Cassandra James in high school, she would have acknowledged him the next day in class. No question.

He dismissed the dumb sentiment.

And the burst of pride and exhilaration at the thought of having Cassandra James on his arm at the product launch.

Still just a booty call.

‘Cool.’ He cradled her cheek, then swept his thumb across her bottom lip to stop her worrying it with her teeth—and driving him the rest of the way out of his mind. ‘How about we celebrate?’

He grinned at the flush that lit up her cheeks as she nodded. Damn, but she was adorable when she blushed. He tucked her hair back, pulled her in, then slanted his lips over hers, not able to wait a moment longer to taste her.

She opened for him instinctively and he feasted on the soft sob of pleasure, the gentle sigh of surrender. When they finally parted she looked dazed, arousal darkening her eyes.

‘You still want to sleep alone tonight, cher?’ he asked, glad he could tease her about it now.

She shook her head. ‘I never really did.’

His heart punched his ribcage the same way it had that afternoon, when she’d stood shaky but upright and ridden the wave towards him.

He stood, scooping her into his arms and heading up to his bedroom. Their bedroom.

Hunger flowed through him like the wave that afternoon—strong, steady, unstoppable—but, best of all, it destroyed all the other emotions in its path.