[Invitation to Eden 22.0] Delicious and Deadly Page 9

  Narrowing her own, she spat at him,

  "What do you think you're doing?"

  Oscar simply stared at her in silence, the only reaction a very slow raising of his brows.

  Water had darkened her hair in the moonlight to a gleaming brown that looked black. It clung wetly to blanket smooth skin and fine bones. Temper flashed in eyes dark as jade and dangerous as a wildcat's. Her mouth, clamped together in a way that told him she was as mad as a hornet, had a full and pouty bottom lip that contrasted with her obstinate chin.

  Coolly, he let his gaze slide down.

  He'd missed caressing those full breasts, missed kissing that flat belly.

  Just as coolly his gaze went up, moved back to hers.

  She didn't flinch, didn't flush, under his scrutiny.

  There wasn't trepidation or a welcome in her eyes.

  Instead, she sent him a cold look that might have felled a lesser man.

  "You've seen it all before, Oscar," Emma began in a silky voice, "You can put your tongue away."

  Instead of responding he dropped the towel and the torch and walked towards her with a loose, easy stride that still carried a military air.

  Then, as he entered the water and waded towards her, he smiled.

  "Skinny dipping, Em?"

  "The name is Emma... use it," she snapped.

  "Cranky too. Can't sleep? The muse not flowing?"

  "The muse is fine, thank you very much."

  "I'm writing a book, too," he said, and watched her eyes go wide.

  "People say that to me all the time."

  He just bet they did.

  "A cookbook. Nico reckons it'll be a huge success."

  "Good for you," she said sincerely. "I'm sure it will. What about your family? How does your father feel about your new career?"

  His grimace said it all.

  "You're not the only one with a difficult parent, Emma."

  "You clash?" she guessed.

  "We clash."

  "Do you see him regularly?"

  "No. I don't want to talk about it."

  Her brows rose.

  "But you want me to talk about mine?"

  "Touché. How about we do this instead."

  He moved closer.

  Her little flinch told him too close.

  Oscar's lips twitched at her hiss of breath.

  His eyes again went on a voyage of discovery over her hair, her face, those narrow boned shoulders, to her hands cupping full breasts.

  "Back off, Oscar. I'm not on the mood for games."

  He brought his gaze back to hers.

  "Emma, sweetheart, we're long past the point of playing games." Then he dipped his head, kissed her right on her pouty mouth. "I cannot tell you how much I missed that dimple. Kiss me, Emma."

  Her eyes narrowed again. And Oscar loved the way they glinted through fabulous, thick lashes.

  Testing her, his mouth hovered over hers.

  She didn't move back.

  "I'm not sleeping with you," she told him.

  His hand reached out and touched her.

  "Who mentioned anything about sleeping?"

  Emma felt that fast, breathless pressure in her lungs and recognised it for what it was. No way was she going to let him get to her again. She let her gaze lower, to where his knuckles stroked the delicate curve of her breast, then lifted it to study his face.

  "Back off," she whispered into his mouth.

  His response was to gently capture her wrists to remove her hands from her breasts.

  The scent of his breath, of his skin, made her head spin.

  Oh God, she'd missed him, his touch, so damned much.

  For a moment his hands stilled.

  "Your nipples have gone hard," he whispered back.

  "Because I'm wet and standing in the ocean. It's cold."

  "Little liar." Casually, he released a wrist before his hand lifted a strand of wet hair. "You look like a mermaid."

  She was seething that, just having him touch her like this, her heartbeat was drumming against her ribs. She could hear the gentle swish and fall, feel the gentle push and pull, of the ocean.

  He smelled incredible.

  His eyes were so dark.

  That strong jaw badly needed a shave.

  Even as Emma battled the heat of attraction burning low in her belly, she found herself wondering how he would look with all that black hair untied. She imagined he'd look like a primitive, pagan warrior. Of its own volition, her hand moved to reach out to touch his hair.

  And Emma snapped out of it fast.

  She knew better than to listen to the roaring in her ears, in her head. She'd listened before and look where that had led? She’d been naïve, meek, and too damned stupid to live. She wasn't that woman now. The most important thing to remember was that, these days, she was in control. She made the decisions.

  "I told you twice to back off," she said softly.

  "I know," Oscar agreed, watching her face. "Why?"

  "I do not like to be touched."

  He didn't move away.

  “You liked it well enough yesterday morning," he said.

  “That was different. I was caught by surprise. I made a mistake,” she whispered.

  And told herself that that was a pitiful comeback

  His eyes locked dead on hers, very straight, very fierce.

  "Did someone else's touch hurt you, Emma?"

  Her eyes never left his.

  She shivered, and by the way he watched her, she knew he’d caught it.

  "Back. Off."

  This time he stepped back, waded to the beach, lifted a towel and returned to her.

  He handed her the towel.

  "What if I don't want to back off?"

  Emma moved past him, to the refuge of shallow water.

  The fact she was naked made her feel too vulnerable, too exposed.

  She wound the towel around herself, tucked the ends firmly between her breasts.

  Wading to the beach, she bent to retrieve her clothes from the sand.

  In a better mood now that she was decent, Emma turned to him.

  "That's your problem, not mine. Have a nice vacation, Oscar. Try not to tire yourself out slaving over a hot stove."

  For a big man he moved fast.

  His hand lifted, reaching out to touch her.

  In an automatic move, her hand came up in a defensive pose.

  She flinched as his hand gripped her arm.

  And just like that fear fisted in her throat.

  He'd seen the fear, she could tell by the way his eyes went watchful, wary even.

  Oscar now tilted his head to study her face.

  "You know I would never hurt you."

  Deep inside her she knew he spoke nothing but the truth.

  Oscar would never hurt her.

  Shame joined the jittery dance of fear in her belly, but Emma lifted her chin.

  "I know you won't. Because I won't give you a chance."

  "We've unfinished business."

  She jerked out of his hold.

  "Leave me alone."

  His head was spinning because that was the second time she’d flinched from him, as if steadying herself for a blow. Someone had hurt her. Someone had raised his hand to her. With fury roaring in his ears, in his head, Oscar simply stood ankle deep in the surf and kept his eyes on hers.

  Slowly and carefully his hand reached out, two fingers snagged the knot in her towel and pulled her close.

  "No. What did he do to you? You're going nowhere until you tell me."

  Her breath hitched before it shuddered out between her lips.

  The pulse beneath her ear was going crazy.

  And all the while her eyes never left his.

  Still, she didn't speak.

  "Emma..." he warned.

  Then her eyes went wide as she cocked her head, listening.

  "Do you hear that?" she asked him in a soft voice.

  Oscar huffed out a breath, thinking she w
as stringing him along.

  But now he did listen.

  The hair on the back of his neck rose at the same time his gut clenched.

  He heard nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  And that was the problem.

  No crickets.

  No creatures of the night.

  Nothing.

  "Oscar, what's happen..."

  The ground beneath their feet began to tremble.

  The surface water of the lagoon danced.

  Now creatures screeched. Fruit bats took flight.

  The ground shuddered as a roaring sound filled the air.

  "Earthquake?" Emma yelled above the noise.

  There was a sharp crack as a tree tipped over, crashing into the lagoon.

  Oscar picked up the flashlight, grabbed her hand and they ran.

  When they reached the beach they picked up speed.

  But the ground juddered, making it hard to keep their balance.

  Emma tripped and fell.

  Oscar scooped her up, then they both turned to stare with wide eyes at the ocean.

  She'd never seen anything like it.

  It was as if the water had been sucked too fast into the darkness.

  "Shit. Fuck." Oscar said.

  Then he raced up the hill, still carrying Emma, for the castle.

  His strong legs ate up the ground and she hung on, with her arms tight around his neck, for dear life. Just as they headed for the main doors an alarm pealed, the sound so loud they were disoriented for a moment.

  A white-faced Connie Hendrickson stood at the entrance.

  "Tsunami warning. Quickly, get inside," she yelled at the top of her voice.

  Once they were safely within, Connie slapped a button on the wall and the sound of metal doors sliding down to cover the doors and windows of the castle filled the air.

  The lights flickered once, before the roar of another generator could be heard.

  Emma didn't have time to panic, didn't have time to be scared.

  She was on her feet, Oscar's hand in hers as he ran through a service door and up three flights of stairs to Emma's apartment in the tower. They burst through the doors to find candles still burning making shadows dance against the walls.

  "Get dressed," Oscar roared over the din of the alarm.

  And then he turned to leave.

  "Where are you going?" she screamed, heard the fear in her voice and didn't give a damn.

  There was no way in hell he was leaving her alone.

  He moved into her, shouted in her ear,

  "Down to the gym to grab a set of pants and a top. Get dressed."

  And he was gone.

  Emma dragged a shaky breath into her lungs.

  The air was too hot, too close.

  And she realised that all the French windows were closed and sealed, too.

  God, they were trapped in the castle, with no way out.

  Chapter Twelve

  The unremitting shriek of the tsunami alarm made it difficult to think.

  Tsunami.

  Oh God, she couldn't get her head around it.

  On legs that were not quite steady, Emma raced into her bathroom, wound a towel around her hair. Moving fast, she dragged on loose yoga pants and matching vest. Jeez, if her heart didn't calm the hell down, she'd have a heart attack. Nothing bad was going to happen, she told herself, holding on to logic and common sense with her fingernails. The castle walls were feet thick and it was built on top of a hill. Plus, she had a man who was used to getting out of tight situations at her side.

  As if her thoughts had conjured him up, Oscar returned.

  He wore grey sweat pants and a T-shirt of black cotton with the Eden logo emblazed on the front.

  And he carried a large cool box.

  "What's that?" she yelled just as the alarm stopped. "Thank God, my ears are ringing."

  He looked over, checked her face, her eyes, and then he smiled.

  "That's my brave girl."

  Was he kidding?

  She was effing terrified.

  "I don't feel brave. What's going to happen?"

  He opened the lid on the cool box, took out a selection of cheeses, boxes of crackers, fruit. And a bottle of champagne dripping with condensation.

  "We're going to eat."

  Emma decided Oscar had lost his tiny mind.

  "How can you possibly think of food at a time like this?"

  The way her voice went too high had him bite down hard on his bottom lip.

  "You think this is funny?" she snarled.

  "We're quite safe."

  Oh, yeah?

  What did he think she was, an idiot?

  She'd felt the earthquake.

  She'd seen with her own eyes the ocean being sucked away.

  Her ears were still ringing from the damned alarm.

  And how dare he talk to her as if she was five years old.

  Annoyance felt a hell of a lot better than cold fear.

  Emma folded her arms, cocked her hip.

  "You said, and I quote, 'Shit. Fuck.' Grabbed me like a caveman and ran as if the hounds of hell were on our heels. So do not mess with me, pal. I want the truth." Her voice wobbled. She swallowed audibly and took a shaky breath. "Are we going to die?"

  Oscar placed the champagne back in the cool box, closed the lid, and moved towards her.

  She stared up into his eyes as cool hands cupped her face.

  "We're all going to die. But we're not going to die today."

  Emma watched candlelight reflected in those dark chocolate eyes and read the truth.

  "Why did they lock us in like this?"

  "A precaution. When Theodisius built the castle, guest safety was a priority."

  Emma supposed that made sense.

  "So, what are we going to do in the meantime?"

  When his mouth twitched and his eyebrows rose, she pouted.

  "Is sex all you think about?"

  "With you, absolutely." No matter how hard she tried, her mouth curved. Oscar grinned. "And there's the dimple!"

  He grabbed her and placed a hard kiss on her mouth.

  She pushed him away, but not before her hand squeezed his bicep.

  "You just like showing off your big guns."

  His eyes went wide. "You love my big gun."

  "Will you stop with the constant innuendo?"

  "You just don't want to admit how you feel about my big gun."

  She had to laugh.

  "Shut up. I'm starving."

  "Coward."

  She was a coward.

  Emma had no problem admitting it.

  After everything she'd been through in her life, and no matter what Oscar said, she was convinced they were going to die by drowning.

  Something must have shown in her eyes because he placed his hands on her shoulders to turn her into him.

  Then those hands slid up to cup her face, to tilt her head back.

  His head dipped towards her.

  Dark eyes searched hers, forcing her to pay attention, to listen.

  "We are not going to die today."

  A combination of dread, fear and nausea battled for supremacy in her belly.

  "How do you know?"

  Oscar's eyes twinkled into hers.

  "This is Eden. A magical place. We're here, together, so we should make the most of it."

  Oh, he was smooth all right.

  "The reason we are here, together, is because my cousin and your best friend set us up."

  His wide smile was a thing of beauty.

  "I know. And magic is about to happen."

  Emma couldn't drag her eyes from his.

  "Is that a euphemism for sex?"

  "Oh, yeah."

  Temptation whispered in her ear.

  What harm would it do to make love with him?

  She wanted it, the release, the intimacy, the merging.

  But now they both fell silent as she stared up into his face.

  Her lips parted.<
br />
  Oscar dipped his head.

  "Kiss me," he murmured.

  Emma pressed the palm of her hand against his strong chest, seeking the solid thump of his heart, such a strong beat. A sweetly intimate experience that had the liquid ache deep in her belly tighten exquisitely.

  She closed her eyes, lifted her face to his and then his mouth on was on hers, a soft brush, and then another, so easy and warm. Then he kissed her properly, a beautifully gentle kiss, almost a benediction, that had tears prickle behind her eyelids.

  This kiss was so unlike what they'd shared before. There were no demands. This time it was slow, so tender, so sweet and meltingly wonderful. Then he cradled her head in his hands, tipping her back for better access to her warm and willing mouth, and his tongue tangled with hers.

  Dear God, she could kiss him, just like this, forever.

  He pulled back a little, and stared at her face.

  "I love you, Emma," he said as he backed her into her bedroom.

  "I know you do."

  Oscar smiled, his eyes flashed.

  "Say it," he whispered as he slowly moved her towards the bed. "Say it, Emma," he breathed as he lay her down. "Emma," he groaned as he captured her hands in his, pinned them lightly above her head, his fingers twining through hers.

  Her heart was beating too hard against her ribs.

  She wanted to say the words.

  She did.

  But they were stuck hard and fast in her throat.

  His eyes never left hers, and now they narrowed.

  "Marry me."

  If he'd tossed a bucket of ice water over her, she'd be less shocked.

  She went too hot and then too cold.

  Emma shook her head.

  "Don't ask me that."

  Something like impatience flashed in those eyes now.

  "I am asking you. And I want an answer."

  He rolled away from her.

  For an eternal moment he stood next to the bed staring down at her before pacing back and forth.

  Her mind was reeling.

  One minute they'd been kissing as if they couldn't get enough of each other. And now they were eyeing each other like two rabid dogs trapped in a cage.

  Emma moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

  He deserved the truth.

  "No. I don't want to marry you."

  She saw the blow hit him, saw the hurt. And like the warrior she knew him to be, he withstood both. His eyes were on fire now.