“A metaphor and men can absolutely appear to be great but turn out to be nothing but an illusion. You have the appearance of a dream guy, but we both know you’re not the forever type.”
“I don’t promise what I cannot give, but I live for the moment.” The moonlit sky illuminated her face. The brightness in her gaze told him she spoke from her heart. Most people were not expressive, and no woman ever spoke to him like she did. It was almost refreshing.
“And take whatever you want.”
"Don't judge me because I have access to anything I might ever want."
She lifted her chin. "No, you don't."
Everything about Belle was different. The gleam in her eye was refreshing. He tapped his knee. "I don't?"
She shrugged. "You'll never have me."
Good answer, not that he'd give her credit. A woman like Belle would hold nothing back, and she'd likely spend her life disapproving of his choices. He sunk into the cushions behind him.
"You scare me, Belle. If I did have you, you'd be the type that stays forever."
She puckered her lips like she'd say 'so I'm right as always.' “That makes us opposite then.”
“Perhaps that’s what interesting about you then.”
“No, you’re wondering why I don’t want to be here and you’re fascinated for the evening.” She leaned closer, and their arms brushed. His shirt blocked his skin from experiencing that shock to his skin. The hair on his arms stood straighter as she said, "But tomorrow, we’ll never see each other again and we clearly don’t have wedding bells in our future. So I’m safe to talk to."
“Most of your judgments about me is harsh.” Tonight's score had Belle in the clear lead. He had no idea how to melt her ice with anything but honesty. "You are right on one thing. Marriage is not in the cards for me, ever."
Her eyebrows raised. "Don't you want a family?"
"My own was punishment enough. Why would I want to subject a child to that kind of pain?"
That had flown out of his mouth. He bit his tongue, but then she smiled. "Family isn't always painful. It's just hard to figure out if someone is good for your life or not when lust clouds the judgment. Your last girlfriend was gorgeous."
“Beauty is part of the requisite in business deals.” He covered his lips and leaned closer.
“So what on earth was beautiful in me that made you talk?”
His mouth watered, and he wished to taste. He met her gaze. "You're an optimist and tell what you see."
“True.” She winked. "I guess I am honest."
Her innocence didn't make sense. Everything in his head conflicted as his stomach tightened. "I don't know. You surprised me. I thought you would be a jealous, bitter woman I'd have to keep from the wedding."
“Guess I shocked you.” Her gaze snapped at him as her lips parted. "Is that why you wanted to go out to dinner with me?"
“Why not.” If he let her believe that, he'd get out of this, but she'd never trust him. He lowered his hand to his knee, opened his mouth, but then the truth spilled out. "I wanted to find out if you were as real as you seemed.”
“Still.” Her soft sigh with the moonlight behind her made Belle a siren call. He held his pant leg in a slight bunch. "I find it hard to believe."
The limo stopped at the dock. His yacht gleamed from cleanliness in front of them. "We're here. Are you game to get out and find out?"
She threw open the door. He jumped to follow her as the driver barely had time to open his own door.
He shared a look with his driver and said fast, "We'll be a few hours."
She was already halfway down the docks. He hadn't run after a woman, ever. There was a first time for everything as he exerted himself and joined her. Then he point toward his yacht. She followed his finger and nodded.
"Do you have champagne on this boat of yours?” She swallowed. “Break it open then and let’s continue.”
“Continue what?”
“Celebrating marriage of your sister and my ex. Let's toast to this Christmas and how, at least for tonight, two opposites might become friends."
"Friends? Well, I'll take that as a beginning."
“Friends is all you’ll ever get.”
Belle was unlike anyone he'd ever met.
Chapter Five
Tonight, Belle Jordan pretended she was someone else. Peter Morgan walked beside her down the dock. The salt mixed with his scent and her lips begged for a taste. He would be sweeter than ice cream.
She swallowed and glanced away from him. None of this made any sense as part of her life. Her shoulders tightened as they inched closer to the USS Destiny. The fantasy nonsense would never be her life.
Without waiting for his hand, she hopped onto his yacht, which could compete in a boat show as the most ostentatious one that existed. She then turned around to see if he took the rail or followed her. She pressed her lips together. His strong muscles against her skin would crush her, in a good way.
He jumped and landed next to her.
Her heart pounded. The rich man now in front of her was some illusion. She sniffed the air and the smell of oak struck her. The smell tickled her nose, reminding her of a home she'd never had. She massaged her neck and went toward the aft. He went toward what must be the ship's command. She crossed her arms. The waters were still and warm here.
None of this required her to figure anything out or do anything. She hugged her stomach. The motors under her feet buzzed as they flipped on.
Peter stepped outside and joined her. His massive wall of muscles made no sense for someone like him. Rich men were supposed to get fat and not make her body experience shots of electrical surges.
He pointed to the deck chairs. She ticked her head and saw no reason to disagree with him and headed toward the chairs. As he neared her, goose bumps spread again. It seemed to be her usual reaction as she ached to touch him. The moon was high in the sky now. She licked her lips as the salt air moistened her face. Her mouth quivered for a kiss as he came to stand beside her.
Neither of them said anything. She massaged her arms to stop the goose bumps. Nothing worked. The warmth she felt tonight seemed to fuel an internal fire. Something surged in the air around her.
Then a servant came and placed a tray, a bottle of champagne and two flutes on the table between the chairs.
She sighed and turned to the moon. This might be the universe laughing at her for praying earlier. She’d not be desperate and let moments where she wanted to beg for his attention play out. She needed to stamp out her attraction to him, right now. Tomorrow would be easier. This one night might stay lodged in her dreams.
She stared into Peter's brown eyes. The chocolate-colored hues were like a mask, and she had no idea what he felt inside. Her skin tingled. She'd never be this close to someone like him ever again. She traced her neckline and leaned closer to him.
"What's it like growing up as one of America's oldest dynasties? Did your dad keep you locked in your room to ensure that you knew how to keep the books?"
As if he were mimicking her, he rubbed his neck and nodded. "Yeah."