Under The Covers Read online

  Jeremy watched the small group board the plane until all of them were finally out of view. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “I hate to say good riddance, but, darling, you are one hell of a distraction.” More than likely she was headed home to be with her family—a doting husband who couldn’t wait to see her, possibly even children who’d missed her desperately.

  Everyone his age was married with children. Jeremy didn’t regret holding on to his bachelorhood. In fact, with the success of his first book, it was more of a blessing than ever. His editor made him swear never to settle down and marry.

  Jeremy chuckled to himself, turning toward his cabin, ready to get busy writing. “Like that will ever be a problem.” The last thing he wanted was to be chained to some woman. “Well, maybe not chained,” he muttered under his breath. His book in progress, Take What You Need, described the perfect female. She knew how to treat a man—and now he had an image of what she looked like. Perfect motivation to get his book done. Giving the woman in his book a face would make it even easier to write how a woman would treat a man in an ideal relationship.

  When he reached his cabin door, he couldn’t stop himself from turning around. The plane revved up for departure. Jeremy damn near dropped his coffee when the woman got off the plane, waving good-bye to those on board as she hurried away from the portable staircase. Her hair blew around her face, and she arched her back, reaching and pulling the long, thick, dark strands into a ponytail behind her head as she watched the plane prepare for departure.

  “Son of a bitch,” he snarled, his insides tightening with unwanted anticipation as he forced himself to quit gawking and hurried inside. “Why the hell isn’t she leaving?”

  Jeremy paced his cabin, waiting to hear her enter hers next door. When she didn’t, he opted to open the window next to his front door and slid the glass door open in the back of his cabin. He wanted to know where she was, what she was doing, and why the hell she was still on his island. Forcing himself to sit at the desk along the wall by the sliding glass doors, he opened his file and read what he’d written yesterday. Then, making a page break, he titled his next chapter Always Keeping Her Man Informed. The words started pouring out of him.

  More than an hour passed, and he was in need of more coffee. Stretching, he stood and heard her footsteps before she entered her cabin. Jeremy slid to a stop when she stopped at his front door and knocked.

  “Oh, hi,” she said through his open window, her voice a soft, sultry whisper.

  He hadn’t given her a voice in his mind and now decided that her husky tone—breathless yet calm and subdued—fit her perfectly.

  “Are you lost?”

  She flinched, staring at him through the window. He was being a jerk. A big-time, miserable ass. But, damnit, he’d made her his fantasy woman, and talking to her would ruin everything. Not to mention, that her seeking him out was too damn hot. His insides prickled, heat surging through his body as he reached for the doorknob and then opened his door.

  “Hardly,” she told him. “The island isn’t big enough to get lost. I’m told you and I are the only ones here. You’ve been watching me. I’ve been watching you.” She shrugged, her long, silky hair falling over her shoulder. “It appears we’re going to be neighbors for a while. I thought I’d introduce myself.” She extended her hand. “I’m Mercedes Porter.”

  Her hand was warm, her flesh soft and smooth, and her fingers delicate in his larger hand. “Jeremy Faulkner,” he told her, hesitating only for a moment while deciding if he should tell her his real name or not.

  “You aren’t by any chance an author, are you?”

  “No,” he said without giving it a thought.

  Mercedes blushed, pulling her hand from his. She was beyond beautiful, especially now that she’d put herself in an awkward position. It gave him the upper hand, one he decided to use before losing it.

  “Why are you here?” he asked, knowing he still sounded gruff and annoyed. This was his island, though, his paradise and safe, reclusive corner of the world where he could live in his fantasies while creating what he hoped would be his next best seller.

  “I just sent my crew home for the holidays.” She lifted her shoulder, her hair parting over her slender, tanned features. “But it’s best I remain here because all our work is on the ship, and it wouldn’t exactly be right for me to make the captain take responsibility for it.”

  He didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “How long are you here?”

  “It sounds like until after Christmas.” She nibbled her lower lip and shifted from one foot to the other as her thick black lashes fluttered over incredibly blue eyes. “I’m sure we’ll see each other occasionally because we’re the only ones here, so I just wanted to say hi.”

  She started edging away from him, her gaze dropping to her hands as though she suddenly couldn’t wait to get away from him. He should let her go and make her think what she was obviously concluding at the moment—that he was a terrible grouch. But something inside wasn’t ready for her to leave.

  “Occasionally?” he asked, stepping out of his cabin and moving in on her.

  Mercedes looked up at him, her mouth puckering into a perfectly shaped, small circle. Her lips were full, naturally red, and moist. “I said that because you didn’t seem pleased that I took time to say hello.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  Her lips parted. He’d taken her off guard, and although her calm, confident air didn’t sway, he noticed she seemed hesitant about how to respond. She watched him, searching his face, those incredible baby blues checking him out. The heat from her gaze showed interest, curiosity, and possibly the slightest bit of trepidation.

  He liked keeping her guessing. “But because you did say hello, you can accompany me for more coffee.”

  “I don’t drink coffee.”

  “I do.” He placed his hand on her back, encouraging her to walk alongside him. Her hair was soft as silk, full and thick as it brushed over the back of his hand. “Do you not celebrate Christmas?”

  “Of course.” She glanced his way warily, and then her gaze traveled down his body. “Don’t you?”

  His editor had taken his Christmas list, agreeing to make arrangements for everyone on it to receive their gift from him so he wouldn’t be bothered while meeting his deadline. “Born and raised Catholic. Francis tells me they’ll have a midnight mass in the village on Christmas Eve.”

  “I’m not Catholic.”

  “What are you?”

  She shrugged. “I guess I’m not anything.” It was hot as hell the way she nibbled her lower lip when trying to decide what to say to him. “Maybe it’s the scientist in me. Or maybe work just takes up so much of my time I don’t think about religion.”

  “What kind of scientist are you?”

  “Marine biologist. Although I have a degree in oceanography. Anything to do with the ocean fascinates me.”

  “Why is that?”

  Her voice was breathy, and when she continued, staring at the sea while explaining, he saw that what he’d originally viewed as a look of confidence was in fact one of incredible intelligence. Beauty and brains. Maybe that would be the title of his next chapter.

  “I think maybe because no matter how much I learn about it, it is and always will be filled with mystery. There’s no way in a lifetime I can exhaust all there is to know about her.” Her laughter was melodic, but she paused, stepping to the side and out of reach of his hand when they arrived at the office. “I’m sure that sounds ridiculous.”

  Francis grinned her toothy grin as she walked around the front desk with a coffeepot in hand—as though she’d seen them coming and waited on him. Which more than likely was the truth. Her knowing grin was more than annoying, and if Jeremy had had any sense, he would have avoided this moment. He predicted Francis’s words before they were out of her mouth.

  “I knew you two would like each other,” she announced, her accent thicker than usual. “Tonight I will make a special
dinner for you both. Whose cabin will you be eating in?”

  “Oh, um…” Mercedes began, her hair falling around her face when she looked down at her clasped hands.

  Jeremy studied her for only a moment, focusing on the cleavage pressing above the top of her low-cut tank top. He had no problem imagining where having dinner with Mercedes might lead. Maybe spending time with her would be advantageous instead of detrimental. Already he had the title for his next chapter. She might very well be an inspiration to his writing.

  “It would only be proper to have dinner at the lady’s cabin,” he said, catching Mercedes’s surprised look. “A gentleman is never forward or assumptive in suggesting a woman come to his place.”

  “Perfect!” Francis clapped her hands together, preventing Mercedes from saying whatever it was she had opened her mouth to say. Instead of speaking, she licked her lips, shifting her attention to Francis, who continued speaking. “I will prepare a romantic dinner for two. At seven when the sun sets. And to make the lady at home, I will serve it outside the back of her cabin. Not to worry at all. I will have a table set up, and it will be a meal for lovers.”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “That is most gracious of you, Francis,” Jeremy said, interrupting Mercedes before she could back out. Then, holding his full coffee cup up in a silent salute, he nodded to Mercedes. “I’ll leave you two ladies to iron out the details and will see you at seven.”

  “Wait—” Mercedes began.

  For the first time since arriving on the island, Jeremy was grateful that Francis was so talkative. As he turned away from the ladies, he saw the older lady wrap her bony fingers around Mercedes’s tanned arm as she started discussing the menu options. Mercedes was trapped. And he was free to write his next chapter.

  Jeremy kept his window open, as well as the sliding glass door. The breeze was perfect, the temperature proof of paradise. At five that evening, he closed his laptop, cleared his notes from the desk, and then showered. If the evening went the way he planned, they would never be in his cabin. Just to be safe, though, he removed all indication of his writing. Thankfully, he’d been wise not to share with Francis who he really was. As talkative as the older woman was, it would be the first thing she’d tell Mercedes. He stripped, stepped into the hot shower, and then let it soak his back while imagining Mercedes preparing for their date as well.

  Would she shower or take a hot bath? Would she soak in scented soap, creating a fragrance that would linger on her skin and make her cabin smell just like her? He pictured her shaving, taking her time while suds streamed down her soft curves. His cock started throbbing as he imagined how soft her breasts were. He prayed she shaved her pussy. There was nothing hotter than smooth, silky flesh between a woman’s legs.

  “Crap,” he growled, grabbing his dick and feeling the pressure build as his balls tightened, growing heavier by the moment. He didn’t want to masturbate again. He wanted to sink deep inside Mercedes’s heat and feel her wrapped around him. He wanted to fuck her until she cried out his name. More than anything, he wanted to see her body glistening with sweat, in the throes of passion, while he rode her hard and gave her everything he had.

  Jeremy pressed his free hand against the shower wall, maintaining his balance as need hit him harder than it had in ages. He had to get a grip on himself. The last thing Mercedes, or anyone, would ever find out was that he wasn’t the perfect gentleman, the perfect bachelor with insight and understanding into the woman’s mind. The truth would destroy his career. He was a pervert, craving a lady who would submit to him and desire hard, rough sex as much as he did.

  3

  Mercedes twisted in front of the mirror after trying on yet another dress. She had only three dresses, some shorts and tops, and a few pairs of jeans. It wasn’t as if there was a huge selection to choose from for her date.

  “Date. Hell,” she groaned, moving closer to the mirror and inspecting the makeup she’d applied. “How did I get myself into this?”

  If it wasn’t for the way her flesh had tingled while Jeremy Faulkner had watched her say good-bye to her team, she wouldn’t have gathered the nerve to introduce herself. At the time, it had seemed a smart move. He was distracting the hell out of her, and she figured if she met him—showed herself he was just some man and wasn’t that big a deal—she would get him out of her system.

  “Talk about a plan backfiring,” she grumbled, frowning at her reflection and then down at the makeup on her bathroom counter. “Now you’re a nervous wreck, and why? He’s forward and too good-looking for his own good.”

  Mercedes sighed, picking up her lipstick but then dropping it. She moved quickly to catch it before it rolled off the counter. There wasn’t any reason to primp further. A man like Jeremy would notice the work she went to in order to impress him and would probably use it against her somehow. She hated feeling so grossly out of her league.

  She walked out of her bathroom and spotted two young boys placing a table outside her sliding glass doors. Francis was with them, speaking softly but quickly as she instructed the boys. They spread a tablecloth over the table and arranged candles and place settings and then disappeared, hurrying out of view, more than likely to return with dinner.

  Mercedes plopped down on the edge of her bed, staring at her laptop, which was still open to the Web site for the author Jeremy Fall. He was a dead ringer for Jeremy Faulkner.

  “Like hell you aren’t an author,” she said, wondering why he would lie about it. Although, in truth, he was probably alone on this island because he was tired of people hanging all over him. Especially women. “And I prance up to his door to introduce myself.”

  But he was the one who had dragged her with him to get his coffee. He had encouraged the conversation when she would have backed off after their initial introductions. Her first impression was that he didn’t want to be bothered. He’d told her as much.

  “Then he traps me into a dinner date.” She shifted on the edge of the bed, pressing her legs together while willing the pressure inside her to subside.

  Squirming around simply made her wetter. Mercedes stood as the boys returned pushing a silver cart loaded down with covered platters. A feast had arrived. And she’d be surprised if she could eat a bite.

  “It’s almost seven. Might as well get this over with.” She couldn’t remember ever being so nervous about a date. Hell, when had she last gone on a date?

  There was a reason why she didn’t date, she reminded herself, planting a pleasant smile on her face and stepping outside.

  “If you aren’t the vision of beauty?” Francis swooned, clapping her hands together and then snapping at one of the boys to pull Mercedes’s chair out for her. “There is no better place for romance than Nativity Island,” she added, gripping Mercedes’s bare shoulders and giving them a harsh squeeze.

  Jeremy stepped out from his cabin, pausing before closing the door and staring at her. The immediate sensation that a hungry predator was staking out his territory and contemplating his best method of attack sent Mercedes’s heart pounding out of control. His gaze dropped to her chest, and she wondered if opting for her strapless dress had been such a good idea. She didn’t want to send any false messages.

  “What a handsome couple the two of you are,” Francis said, her singsong accent hitting a high pitch that bordered on annoying. “Now hurry, you two,” she snapped, swatting one of the boys on the back of the head.

  The child didn’t acknowledge her but continued placing food on the table, his gaze lowered and his expression bordering on annoyance. Within seconds, though, the two boys had laid out a feast suited for at least ten people.

  “You ring this bell and we come running.” Francis picked up a small bell and held it in front of Jeremy’s face as though it was something to be proud of.

  “You’ve set a perfect table,” Jeremy told Francis, his deep baritone obviously affecting her because she finally quit moving and clasped her hands to her chest. Jeremy offered her an easy
smile, taking the bell out of her hands and placing it next to his plate. He eased into his chair, his button-down shirt undone at the top and revealing dark, curly chest hair over bronze skin. “I can’t imagine there is anything we’ll need, but I’ll let you know.”

  Francis beamed, her adoration for Jeremy obvious when she smiled a moment longer than she needed. Her expression changed quickly though when she snapped at the boys, who immediately took off running. She then turned and followed them without another word.

  “I sure hope you’re hungry.” Jeremy focused on the wine, pulling the cork and reaching for Mercedes’s glass.

  “I doubt I could put a dent in all the food here.”

  He chuckled but didn’t say anything, instead appearing intent on his task. Maybe he was as nervous as she was. Francis had turned the simple invitation into something elaborate. If Mercedes was better at small talk, she would try making him comfortable. She wasn’t, though. She was a scientist. It was easier to dissect his nature by watching Jeremy than to learn about him by talking to him.

  And, no, it wasn’t because she didn’t care about his mind. “Do you normally eat like this here?” she asked, lifting her wineglass and breathing in the fruity fragrance while watching his long fingers slide over the moist, smooth glass as he put down the bottle.

  “Not once.” Jeremy lifted his glass, holding it up for a toast. “To the beginning of what will hopefully be a pleasant evening.”

  She tapped her glass against his and then sipped. The cold, sweet wine slid down her throat easily, and she took another swallow. “Pleasant,” she murmured, lifting her gaze when he looked at her. “That could cover a broad area.”