An Impractical Match (Match #2) Read online

  Seeing she was on the phone, Devlin pointed to the ceiling above himself, mouthing some words.

  Jillian didn’t have the brain power to decipher his message at the moment. So, she motioned for him to come inside.

  “I’ve been in contact with her for years,” said Jade.

  “What?” Jillian nearly dropped the phone.

  Devlin’s brow furrowed in an expression of concern.

  “Years?” Jillian asked her sister.

  “Since high school.”

  “You’ve been in contact with Lizbet since high school? How did you do that? Why would you do that?”

  “I really don’t think she got a fair break from Mom.”

  “She cheated on Grandpa.”

  “Yeah, well Grandpa wasn’t much of a prize.”

  “How do you know that? You can’t possibly remember him.”

  “I know that Mom has this hero-worship thing going on for him. She has since she was a kid.”

  Jillian plunked down on the sofa, catching sight of the champagne bottle. So much for feeling lighthearted and content.

  “I suppose Grandma told you he was no prize.” She drew the champagne bottle out of the silver ice bucket, let it drip for a few seconds then handed it to Devlin, motioning for him to open it.

  “Yes,” Jade admitted.

  “And you believed her?”

  “I did. I do. She’s gotten the crappy end of all this.”

  The chocolates looked like solid comfort food, and Jillian plucked one up. “She could be lying.”

  “So could Mom.”

  “You’re calling your own mother a liar?” Jillian bit down on the dark, cocoa-sprinkled truffle.

  “I’m saying the truth is probably somewhere in the middle.”

  Jillian had to admit Jade was probably right on that front. “I don’t understand why you called her about my wedding.”

  The question obviously caught Devlin’s attention. He glanced up sharply as he pulled the foil from the bottle.

  “Because she knew you were getting married. I’d promised to beam her some pictures.”

  “Wow.” Jillian simply didn’t know what to say to that. It was strange to think she had a grandmother somehow watching her from afar.

  “I told her when everybody graduated. Their sports and hobbies. Where they went to college. Boyfriends and jobs.”

  “You’re a spy?”

  Jade let out a very deep sigh. “I’m a spy.”

  “Does Dani know this?”

  “Are you kidding me? Nobody knows this. Well, except for Grandma and now you.”

  The cork popped out of the champagne bottle, hitting the ceiling before bouncing onto the desk.

  “What was that?” asked Jade.

  “Champagne.”

  “You’re celebrating?”

  “I’m not celebrating this. Long story. Don’t worry about it.”

  Devlin gave a wry smile as he turned two champagne flutes over, pouring the bubbly liquid into them.

  “Are you mad?” asked Jade.

  “I don’t know what I am, Jade. Dani told me Mom went to the cottage to think things through.”

  “She’s not going to talk to Grandma. She’s never going to talk to Grandma. And it’s not fair, not to us, not to Lizbet, and not even to Mom.”

  “Dani wants me to call her and tell her what you said.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Jade sounded genuinely fearful.

  “Of course I won’t. But what are you going to do? You can’t keep this up forever.”

  “I need your help.”

  Jillian reached out her hand, wiggling her fingers for a glass of champagne. Devlin quickly handed one over.

  She took a gulp. “Doing what?”

  The ship’s horn sounded, drowning out whatever Jade was saying.

  “What the hell was that?” Jade asked.

  “Fog horn.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Can you repeat what you just said?”

  “Help me convince Mom to see Grandma.”

  “She might do it on her own,” Jillian suggested. There was no way she was committing to anything of the sort.

  She raised the glass to Devlin to thank him then took another drink. He saluted her back and sipped from his own glass. Then he canted his head to the sliding door. She followed his gaze and realized they were moving away from the dock.

  “If she doesn’t, will you help me?” asked Jade. “You’d like Grandma. I promise you would.”

  Jillian came to her feet, moving outside to the balcony. “Let me think about it, Mata Hari.”

  “Think fast.”

  “Can we talk in a couple of days?”

  There was an obviously frustrated pause. “Unless I hear anything new. Or you do.”

  “Okay,” Jillian agreed.

  As she ended the call, a welcome breeze blew across her hair. Funny, despite the two extraordinary conversations, as the ship moved away from the dock she felt as though she was leaving her troubles behind. It made no sense, since she could take phone calls and access the Internet the whole way along the coast. Still, there was some kind of psychological separation in leaving land.

  She couldn’t help glancing to where Devlin was leaning against the rail, his shoulders broad against a white dress shirt, his profile strong, dark hair barely mussed by the wind. She felt an almost overpowering urge to lean into his arms. Apparently, all a guy had to do was wash off a layer of grime, and she was putty in his hands.

  Jillian downed another big swallow of the champagne.

  o o o o

  “So, I have this grandmother,” said Jillian, setting her champagne glass down on the balcony’s small round table and lowering herself into one of the deck chairs as the ship picked up speed. “She’s what that call was about.”

  Devlin took the other chair. He’d knocked on the door to invite her to the sail-away party up on the pool deck, but if she wanted to talk, he was more than willing to listen.

  “Lizbet Blythe is her name. My mother’s mother. I’ve never met her. At least, I don’t remember ever having met her. I might have when I was a baby. According to my mother, Lizbet was very devoted to her career. She made a lot of money, and she spent a lot of time away from her family. She had an affair over in Europe. When the truth came out, it broke my grandfather’s heart. He never recovered. He literally died of a heart attack three years later.”

  “Did you ever meet him?” Devlin asked.

  She reclaimed the glass. “I was two when he died. My mother hasn’t spoken to my grandmother since.”

  “That was your sister on the phone?”

  “First one, then the other. I can always count on getting a phone call when there’s a crisis.”

  “There’s a crisis?” he prompted, settling back to watch the city skyline grow smaller.

  “Grandma called Mom. Mom’s freaked out and hiding at the cottage. Dani thinks Lizbet should stay away. While it turns out Jade’s been Lizbet’s mole for years now.”

  Devlin knew it wasn’t funny, but he couldn’t help smiling. “Families are complicated,” he acknowledged.

  “Families are lunatics.” She brought her glass to her lips and polished off the champagne with a flourish.

  He stepped inside to retrieve the bottle.

  “What do you think?” he called over his shoulder.

  “I think it’s going to be impossible to figure out who’s right.”

  He returned to the balcony and refilled her glass, set the bottle on the table between them and sat back down. “Maybe nobody’s right.”

  “Nobody? That’s a little cynical.”

  “I mean, nobody’s right, but nobody’s wrong, either. They’re all just human.”

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for a philosopher.”

  “You think because I appreciate speed, dirt and the song of a hopped-up engine that I don’t have a complex brain?”

  She propped her bare feet against the bottom of the rail. “Gu
ilty.”

  The move pulled her flared black skirt a little further up her thighs, and he couldn’t help but stare.

  “Does being so honest ever get you into trouble?” he asked.

  “Probably. But being dishonest would likely get me into more. Tell me about your family. And be brutally honest about their idiosyncrasies. It’ll make me feel better.”

  “Okay.” He leaned back in the deck chair, music wafting down from the decks above. “My sister’s getting married tomorrow.”

  “Well, that’s disgustingly sane and normal.”

  “To a guy who, by all accounts, is some kind of super-genius.”

  “Again, not much of a problem, Devlin.”

  “We used to call her Amelia Airhead.”

  Jillian straightened. “Hello?”

  He chuckled. “She never did particularly well in school. She chatted endlessly on the phone with her girlfriends about hair, makeup, clothes and boys. She seemed, well, kind of simple.”

  “Did you misjudge her?”

  “Maybe. She was a terrific cheerleader. Worked really hard at it. But she gravitated toward artsy classes in college, got mediocre grades but always looked like a million bucks.”

  “Morgan must think she’s smart. I can’t see a super-genius marrying someone who isn’t intelligent.”

  “I’m trying to make you feel better about your family, remember?”

  “Right.”

  The ship’s horn blasted again.

  “What about you?” Jillian asked. “Were you smart in high school?”

  “Straight A’s. I got into engineering at Arizona State, because that’s what you do when you’re good at physics.”

  “You’re an engineer?” She sounded surprised.

  “I quit after second year.”

  She grimaced. “You flunked out?”

  He tried not to be offended. It wasn’t like he’d never had this conversation before.

  “No, I didn’t flunk out. I realized I liked working with my hands. Engineering was all on paper.”

  “Were your parents disappointed?”

  “My parents are still disappointed.”

  “Well, maybe you’ll go back someday, finish your degree.”

  “Maybe,” he lied, feeling a cold disappointment seep its way into his stomach. He didn’t know why he’d hoped she’d be different. Everything he’d learned about her so far should have told him she was more of a snob than his parents.

  He fought to shake the disappointment off, but his tone was flat when he came to his feet. “We should go up to the party.”

  She glanced at her watch. “I thought the dinner wasn’t until seven.”

  “There’s a sail-away party on the pool deck. Everyone’s up there. I came down to get you.”

  She rose beside him, seeming short since she was in bare feet. “Are you upset?”

  “No.”

  “Devlin?”

  “What?” He lifted his glass and the bottle to carry them inside.

  “Tell me what I did.”

  “You didn’t do anything.” He moved through the doorway.

  “Hey.” She scrambled behind him, clattering a chair as she moved.

  “Stop.” Her hand gripped his arm, bringing him to an instant halt. “Please tell me.”

  He turned, gazing down at the worry on her expression. But he didn’t feel compassion. He didn’t want to make her feel better. He wanted to lash out. “I know I don’t live up to your standards.”

  She drew back. “I have standards?”

  He gave a cool laugh at that. “Standards for dress. Standards for behavior. Standards for education.”

  “And you don’t.”

  “Not the same ones.”

  “Are we fighting? Why are we fighting?”

  He had to admit, it was a good question. He was angry with her for wanting him to get a degree. Everyone in his life wanted him to get a degree. He wasn’t angry with them. At least not all of the time.

  Then again, he didn’t want to kiss them, either. And that was the crux of the problem. He did want to kiss Jillian. He wanted to kiss her all of the time. He wanted to drag her into his arms and crush her against his body while his lips devoured hers.

  She stood there in front of him, clingy white top, flirty little skirt, bare, shapely, honey-toned legs. He took in her full dark lips, the sweep of her thick lashes, her wide, crystal-green eyes, and desire flared up inside him.

  He knew he shouldn’t do it. He couldn’t keep going round and round the same block over and over again. It led nowhere.

  But her lips parted slightly. She shifted her weight to one foot. Her dark hair rustled in the ocean breeze. And she tipped her head to one side.

  He was done for.

  He deliberately set down the bottle. Then he removed the flute from her hand. His spread fingers delved into her hair, anchoring her. His other hand went to the curve of her waist.

  “Devlin,” she sighed. It wasn’t a protest. It was an invitation.

  He dipped down, bringing his thirsty lips to hers, drinking in her heat and softness, and the sweet taste of champagne. She stepped forward, and his hand found the small of her back, drawing her against him, his body all but sighing in contentment that she was finally in his arms.

  Her own arms wound around his neck, and she tipped her head back, welcoming his kiss, parting her lips, her small tongue sweeping against his, invading his mouth. He groaned, fingers convulsing against her soft hair.

  His other hand found a strip of skin between her top and the little skirt. The heat of her tender skin seemed to burn the tips of his fingers. He circled up, higher, bolder, wrapping around to the smooth, soft skin of her stomach, skimming the underside of her satin bra.

  “Can we?” she breathed.

  He didn’t understand.

  “We kissed and forgot all about it,” she continued, between kisses. “Can we do this, too? Then forget all about it? Then go back to normal?”

  He drew back in a daze, hardly daring to hope. “What are you asking?”

  Without a word, she gathered the hem of her top. Then she slowly peeled it over her head, revealing her bare stomach and a sleek white bra with silver lace trim.

  His hand closed instantly over the cup.

  “I think we can,” she told him.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, yes, we can.”

  He moved in to kiss her again, knowing that he was lying through his teeth. He hadn’t forgotten a single second of their kisses. And he’d sure never forget this. Even if it led no further, he’d never forget this moment. And he didn’t know what normal was for her, but his life hadn’t been normal since the first second he saw her.

  o o o o

  Jillian curled her body against Devlin’s, wrapping her arms around his neck and absorbing the heat of his skin through his cotton shirt. She tipped her chin, stretching up, and he answered her silent request with another searing kiss. He released the clasp of her bra, and it slithered to the floor, baring her breasts. Her nipples went instantly hard in the swirling air.

  The sliding door was still open, the sheer curtains billowing in the salt breeze. She plucked at the buttons of his shirt, managing to release them, bringing his bare chest against hers, drawing a satisfied moan from deep inside her.

  Her brain switched off reason, allowing her to wallow in sensation and emotion. Wise or not, she’d wanted Devlin for weeks now, craved his kisses, longed for his touch, wondered how he’d look, how he’d feel, how he’d smell, his body naked and entwined with her own.

  She pushed his shirt from his shoulders. The wind caught it, sending it billowing across the room. She ran her hands over his strong shoulders, down the definition of his arms, across his chest, marveling at the ropy strength and bulging cords of his muscles.

  He swung her into his arms, carrying her the few steps to the bed. No man had ever done that before. The action took her breath away. It was sensual, sexy beyond her imagination. As he carried her, his p
alm slipped beneath her skirt, skimming her bare thighs, sliding across her silk panties. She quivered in reaction, impatient to be naked, impatient to have him touch her more intimately.

  He sat down on the bed, settling her across his lap, as his deep kisses continued to plunder her sensitized mouth. His hand covered her breast, and she arched her back, stretching her skin taut against his caress. When his finger and thumb closed over her nipple, she convulsed to her core. It was as close to an orgasm as possible without actually going over the edge.

  He stripped off her panties in one smooth motion, his hand moving between her legs, spreading and separating.

  “Yes,” she hissed against his mouth.

  She shifted, turning her body to face him, putting a knee on either side of his hips.

  His fingers pressed into her, and she pulled her head back, gazing into his smoky eyes, wondering if it was possible to stop time.

  His mouth curved into a sensual smile. She loved his smile. She loved his laugh. She loved it when he was happy, and when he took that away, she found herself desperate to get it back. She wished she could tell him that, but she couldn’t seem to turn the thoughts inside her head into words.

  “You’re beautiful,” he told her, tone husky.

  “You’re magic,” she managed, sinking down against him.

  She kissed him deeply on the mouth. “I want you a lot.”

  “I want you, too.” But he made no move to take her.

  His kisses continued. His caresses continued. Heat glided through every corner of her body. Her skin misted with dew. She spun higher and higher.

  Growing desperate, she reached for his pants, popping the button, lowering the zipper, taking him hot and heavy into her hand.

  “You’re so...” She wanted to say perfect.

  “So are you.”

  He flipped her onto her back, shucked his pants, and in seconds was pushing inside her.

  “Perfect,” she managed around a tightening throat.

  “Perfect,” he echoed in a guttural groan.

  She tilted her hips, wrapping her legs around him as he eased them into a slow rhythm. She filled her lungs with the moist, heated air swirling in through the doorway. The music from above tinkled faintly in her subconscious. Devlin kissed her mouth, then her neck and her shoulders, making his way to the peaks of her breasts, drawing her nipples into the hot cavern of his mouth, swirling his tongue around them, sending scattered shocks of desire pulsing beneath her skin.