“Smells pretty. Suits you.” She nudged Anne’s chin. “Whoever your date is, he’s a lucky fella.”
“How did you know I was meeting someone?”
“You booked the honeymoon suite and I have you down as dining for two.” Bethany winked then scurried to the window and sat, her gaze stuck to the goings on in the sea. Her walkie-talkie bleeped and she held it close to her ear, frowning in concentration. “The production crew has arrived. All this is exciting, isn’t it? Television cameras right here, in
my
hotel.” The hotelier leapt from her seat and fussed with the table decorations, moving vases an inch, swiping imaginary dust from the cloths, pushing in chairs.
“Aye, very.” Anne nodded, tugged the shawl from her shoulders, and fished her key from a pocket before climbing the stairs to her room on the third floor. She had her own exciting events to attend to. A date. A blind date with someone named Finn Kneale.
Anne slotted the key-card and slung the door open. She kicked her shoes across the high-ceiling room trimmed with triple-tiered crown-molding and a crystal chandelier, and pushed the door shut. A daisy patterned bedspread and pale pink damask wallpaper offered a homey vibe. She dropped her wrap then focused on the most interesting accessory. A dude. Curled up on the shag rug, wearing nothing but a pair of breeks?
Her date had arrived while she’d caught a breath of fresh air and a big helping of courage. She definitely did not expect to find him in fetal position, rocking, muttering away.
“Are you okay? What can I do? Want me tae call someone for you? Family, maybe…or a doctor?” She backed toward the exit then turned and reached for the handle, her conscience telling her “I told you so.” What moment of insanity led her to decide a one-night stand with a stranger was a good way to help fate along?
More to the point, is he insane?
“I got tired waiting for you, so I took a nap,” he rasped. Anne glanced back at him, unable to resist his rough, damaged, come-to-bed voice. He sat and stretched out his oh-so-sculpted and fine-tuned body.
“I... I....”
I was gone all of half an hour you impatient, sexy bastard
. She grabbed the doorknob but paused, filthy imaginings taking over. Gruff whispers of dirty requests, large hands peeling away layers of clothing. Breeks hitting the floor before he hamshanked his dick, his gaze unyielding as he came.
Ready to pounce on fate’s scraps much?
“Even Madame Eve cannae help me.”
“Ah, the agency sent you?”
She nodded.
“You must be my mate? Scottish Anne?”
Mate?
Anne snorted. “Madame Eve dinnae mention my heritage would be a problem for you.”
He smirked then stood, his back flexing, his bottom so round, pert. “I’m pleased to meet you, Scottish Anne.” When he pivoted to face her, Anne’s sight fell to his package straining the material of his pants, and the vision of him pleasuring himself pierced her yet again. On its own volition, her sex swelled.
She squeezed her thighs together, trying to ease the pleasurable throb.
“Finn Kneale.” He held his hand out. “Nice to meet you.”
“Huh? Oh. Aye, nice tae meet you, too.”
He prowled toward her, his shoulders wide, his face everything she craved in a man. A strong line ran along his jaw, accentuated by his intense stare. He inched around her, slammed the door shut, and spun to pin her against the wainscoting. His breath tickled her cheek, and his chest knocked against hers.
What would he do next? Rip her clothes off and throw her on the bed?
Anne gritted her teeth and sucked oxygen deep into her lungs. She’d push him away if he dared do such a thing. Wouldn’t she? So he was attractive, whatever. The weird factor trumped his hotness any day. Didn’t it? Besides, she might think like a tramp, but she wouldn’t act like one.
Wrapped in his arms, his warm, hard body pressed against her, she battled with the urge to dare to kiss him.
“We’ve got twelve hours to get to know each other, Scottish Anne. Let us not waste time.” He crushed his mouth on hers. She parted her lips, inviting him to explore her with his velvet smooth tongue. Heat washed over her, and an outcry of delight burst out in an unbidden sigh. She wanted to pull back, to catch a breath. The sensible thing to do. But the yearning, too strong to fight, simmered in her stomach for a moment then exploded to her center. He tugged her closer, pressing her breasts against his hard chest. Her heart thumped, the sound pounding in her ears, and her nipples tingled. If she didn’t retreat soon, she’d be under his spell and addicted to his passion and his touch and his….
“I want you, Scottish Anne. Want you now,” he rasped.
His stomach muscles pulled taut and lust pulsed through his groin, slamming the need home. So long he’d waited. His breeks grew tight, bringing attention to what he wanted—needed with growing desperation. He had to have her.
Now.
Finn yanked her in, closing all distance between them, and swept his tongue over hers. His swollen shaft pressed against her. The hair on his nape prickled. He wasn’t sure what excited him more, the prospect of making love to her, of having skin to skin contact, or her ability to end his curse.
He thrust forward, groaning.
“Slow down.” She panted and shoved, palms flat against his chest, but he stood firm and she stumbled back a few steps, landing on the bed with her legs apart. She peered up at him from behind her tousled curls, her low gaze focused on his lips. Moonlight bounced from her locks, shimmering deep-red low-lights and reflecting a warm tint over her perfect complexion.
If this was how he’d spent the rest of his years, he couldn’t wait to get started, to see her naked. To feast upon her beauty as she walked down the aisle.
The temptress had said slow down, but her almond-shaped eyes and her pout begged him to keep trying.
No retreat, this is it. Giving up is not an option
.
A newfound confidence rushed through him, and a grin broke free. Boundaries usually standing between him and pleasure were nowhere in sight, his desire to invoke their connection too strong to deny, to let his awkwardness get in the way. He dared to drop over her, caging her in and pushing her into the mattress. Hazel eyes held him captive. He couldn’t steal away if he wanted to. He reached out and swept mahogany hair from her face, entwining his fingers deep into her locks. “Anne Ward, you are so beautiful.”
“Moving too fast,” she gasped.
Rejection? Again? His heart sank, and he rolled to his side. Shoulders slumped, and his nose wiggled.
Why does it keep moving in such a way?
Rubbing the pads of his thumbs over his features, he attempted to still the unbidden facial expression threatening to give away his secret.
She arched an eyebrow, tilted her head, and flecks of green spread through her irises. “Have we met before? I don’t think so, but something about you seems so familiar.”
“No, I’m sure I’d remember meeting you.”
Did she know him?
Impossible
. From what he’d read in the letter Madame Eve had provided, he knew she was Scottish and had been on the Isle for two years. They’d definitely never crossed paths before. Yet....
Her full mouth quivered, and she repositioned herself on the bed. Her skirt hitched above her knee with the movement and offered a flash of her milky thighs. She scanned the length of him, her gaze resting on his crotch. She shook her head, her eyes alight with glee.
“How am I supposed to resist the sight of you on a bed all inviting and alluring?”
“I fell,” she purred, flashing a bewitching smile.
“Really?”
“Aye, I did.” Wiggling from under him, she sat then retrieved her shawl from the floor and secured it tight around her shoulders. “I’m starving.”
“Me, too...so quit with the stalling and come back here to satisfy our hunger.”
“No, no. We should go eat first, get tae know each other. I took the liberty of booking us a table with an ocean view.”
Great, I get to stare at the Irish Sea some more
. “The menu by the television lists room service. I say we go for it, then we can get to know each other without interruption.”
“Which is why I’d prefer tae eat downstairs.”
“You like interruption?”
“More than I like being alone in a bedroom with a forward stranger in heat.”
He couldn’t deny his lust. Before the night ended, he’d have her. Her fire made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Stranger? Anne, we’re not strangers, we are soul mates destined to enjoy each other until the end of our days.” He kissed her, soft caresses of her lips on his.
She dipped her head, breaking their connection, and glanced at her feet. “I cannae deny there is a connection between us, but attraction isn’t all there is tae falling in love. I’m not an easy shag. What was I thinking, arranging a one-night stand? This is so not like me.” She took to pacing the room, shaking her head and mumbling.
He couldn’t stand to see her so agitated. Grabbing her, he tilted her head and brought her gaze to his. “I’m glad you did. If it’ll ease your discomfort, we shall dine where you wish and discuss meaningless things. You’ll soon realize, fate wants us together. This isn’t for one night, this…us…it’s forever.” Her plump, rounded lips tempted him toward another kiss, but he didn’t want to push his luck so he bit his tongue. “Whether or not you know yet, you and me, we’ll be married before the year is out.”
“You’re intense, maybe a little too intense for me, Finn. Let me remind you, I agreed tae one date, so slow down and enjoy the evening without any expectations. Let us see where it takes us.”
“I’m perfect for you, Scottish Anne. You’ll see.”
He swung open the double doors to the dinning room and ushered her in.
Bethany offered a warm smile from behind the booking table. “Pick a table, any table. You’re the last reservation due to the TV filming.”
“We could eat elsewhere, if it’s a bother.” Finn turned to leave.
“No, no. It’s fine. You two are the last dinner service is all, then we’ll be closing up to accommodate the crew’s needs. You should take a window seat so you can enjoy the seals frolicking.”
Finn pointed to the far corner and growled, “I like that table, lots of privacy.”
He took her hand and led her across a parquet floor polished so bright she could see her reflection in it. He stopped at the only table in the dining room tucked neatly away inside a stained-glass booth without a window to the outside world.
Anne trailed a digit along the starched white tablecloths and admired the deep-purple upholstery and matching napkins. Even the bar glowed with a soft purple light. “This place is fancy. Madame Evangeline picked us a great little spot for our date.”
“Yeah, it’ll do.”
Bethany cleared her throat.
Finn glanced in her direction, and the hotelier mimicked pulling out a chair and pointed to her.
Waving toward his saving grace, he offered a sheepish smile then quickly jumped into action. He bowed then pulled out a chair. For her. “Madame.”
Such manners didn’t really matter to Anne, but she appreciated his willingness to please her. She giggled then accepted his invitation and sat. Crossing her ankles, she reached for the cotton napkin folded into a fan shape.
“Allow me.” He shook the cloth open then patted it flat over her knees, his fingers barely a centimeter away from the juncture of her thighs. She gasped and glanced away, in the process catching Bethany scowling at Finn.
“Thank you.” She knocked his touch away, crimson creeping over and heating her cheeks.
“Can I get you a drink from the bar, Anne Ward?”
“Hmm, aye, the coffee smells good.”
“Milk? Sugar? Whisky?”
She shook her head.
All kinds of fine in the full-on business suit, he strutted the length of the dining room all abustle with staff—fluffing, dusting, and chatting up a Port St. Mary storm—and ran a hand through his wild locks. His thick, ebony hair complemented the dark whiskers covering his jaw.
Men going for such an expensive, tailored suit would typically be manicured to match. Yet there he stood, his hair scuffed up, mannerisms more farm boy than playboy. The likelihood of Oxford being on his curriculum vitae was slim. Maybe a spoiled rich kid type golfer? Or a footballer? No, he had the muscled, rock-hard thighs of a rugby player. She cocked her head to enjoy the view of his thick legs and tight arse from all angles. He pivoted then winked at her, his nose doing the adorable wiggly thing. Like a seal.
They sipped coffee while discussing her job delivering babies, why she’d moved from Scotland to Isle of Man, why she’d used a matchmaking agency. She kept her answers light but honest, enjoying his interest in her life. He listened to her stories. Something about his blues drew her to spill more than she meant to. Not even the few friends she had on the Isle knew this much about her. Had she finally found someone in Port St. Mary worth getting to know? Someone cute, rugged, sexy, and unattached. Someone who might accept her for who and what she was. She should find out, all this focus on her life and she’d learned nothing about him yet. Besides, he might be thinking she likes too talk about herself too much.
“I’d like tae hear ’bout you Finn. We’ve spent the best part of twenty minutes focused on me.”
“I’m enjoying hearing you talk about your work. You’re so passionate and exciting.”
“You make a good listener, but I think it’s time for you tae share a little.” She shifted in her seat and straightened the knife and fork in front of her.
“My life isn’t nearly as interesting as yours.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. All I’ve done is relocate for work. Nothing interesting there.”
“So wrong, Anne. You lead an exciting life. You love your work and adore the place where you live. Oh, how I envy you.”
“When you put it like that.” Anne sat straight, bursting with pride. She hadn’t really seen her life as accomplished, and liked how Finn saw her. Liked it a lot.