Wild Fantasy

“Wow,” she breathed, her tone awed. “You’re very good.”

“So I’ve been told,” he drawled, winking at her.

She sent her admirers a quick grin. “It looks like this is the guy for me. If you’ll excuse us, I’d like to get to know Mr. Lassiter better.”

The other men conceded defeat and broke apart to find other potential partners. The band leader announced that they’d be taking a break and that Merrilee would be arriving in a few moments to greet everyone and go over a few last-minute rules for the upcoming competition. The man encouraged guests to take advantage of the dessert buffet and open bar, and when Nicole did just that, drifting toward the table laden with various sweets and confections, Mitch followed, noticing her rare bout of quietness.

Nicole cast him a surreptitious glance as she picked up a small plate then selected a puff pastry with cream filling, drizzled with chocolate icing. “How did you know?” she asked, her tone so soft he almost didn’t hear her question.

He tipped his head, not sure what she was asking. “How did I know what?”

“That I tried out for the women’s Olympic swim team.” She concentrated on choosing another dessert, this time opting for a small brownie square layered with caramel. “Trying out for the U.S. team was something that happened before our mothers met and became friends. Unless my mother mentioned it to Joyce, and she mentioned it to you.”

There was something in her voice he couldn’t quite decipher, something between hesitancy and insecurity, and he found it interesting that she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “No, my mother never said a word, which means I doubt she knows anything about you trying out for the team. It was an educated guess, based on what I know about you. You’re into sports and very athletic, so it seemed like a logical assumption.”

“Like I said, you’re very good, and intuitive.” She licked a smudge of caramel from her thumb, her tongue slowly removing the sticky sweetness in a way that ignited a smoldering heat in Mitch’s belly.

He wanted to know more, wanted to discover as much as he could about this complex woman and what made her tick. Including her drive and ambitions. “But this slip of paper doesn’t say whether or not you made the team.”

She visibly tensed at his comment and took her time savoring a bite of the pastry. “I never expected anyone to guess that information about me.” Her reply was flippant, and very ambiguous.

“It’s your own fault for putting that interesting tidbit out there for speculation,” he argued lightly as he snagged a small lemon cheesecake square from the dessert table. “I guessed correctly, fair and square, so I think you owe me an answer.” He bit into the sweet-tart confection and waited patiently for her reply.

Her chin lifted stubbornly, defiantly, in a way that was, no doubt, meant to waylay him. “Why are you being so persistent about this?”

He popped the last of his dessert into his mouth and chewed, not at all daunted by her terse tone. “Now that you and I are pairing up as a couple, I want to get to know you better.”

The look she shot him brimmed with skepticism. “Why?”

His gaze swept the area, taking in the other couples laughing and conversing with each other. “Isn’t that the purpose of this singles’ mixer?”

“Maybe for those who honestly want to get to know one another.”

“And if I honestly do?” he asked, his voice low and sincere, snaring her attention. He stared into her wide, searching eyes, letting his intentions toward her, his honest interest, dangle between them for a few consuming seconds. “It’s a simple question, Nicole. Yes or no would cover it just fine.”

Her straight teeth tugged on her lower lip, scraping off a crumb of chocolate. “How about yes and no?”

He chuckled and shook his head, not at all surprised by her answer that wasn’t an answer at all. “How about you’re being deliberately evasive?”

With a sigh she glanced away, making a production of setting her empty plate at the end of the buffet table. The flickering flames of a nearby torch illuminated the delicate lines of her profile, accentuating her natural beauty and making her suddenly appear vulnerable, which was a novel concept with Nicole.

Contradicting that too-brief glimpse of vulnerability he’d witnessed, she boldly found his gaze again. “I did make the team,” she revealed, sounding proud of that fact. “But a week after qualifying, I shattered my wrist in a car accident. The healing process was excruciating and physical therapy took months. By the time I was ready to return to the team I’d been replaced.”

Ahh, a fleeting victory that had been double-edged and bittersweet, he realized. Her regret was palpable, and he ached to reach out and offer a bit of comfort for what she’d lost. He gave in to the urge. With infinite gentleness he brushed back a few strands of hair that wisped along her silken cheek. His knuckles caressed her warm, smooth skin, and her breath hitched on a startled gasp, as if she wasn’t used to such tenderness, as if letting someone get that close emotionally went against that tough facade of hers.

He was beginning to see traces of a much softer side. Despite her reserve with him, despite her sassy mouth, she was in need of a whole lot of tenderness, and touching, and the kind of understanding and acceptance that came without expectations.

And he wanted to give it to her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, letting his fingers drift along her jaw before falling away. “That must have been rough.”

She visibly shook off the melancholy that had overcome her. “Definitely disappointing. For me, and especially my father who had high hopes of me winning a medal.” The smile that found its way to her lips did nothing to chase away the lingering sadness glimmering in the depths of her smoky green eyes.

She’d had high hopes, too, he realized. And he couldn’t help but wonder how much of that longing of hers had to do with capturing a medal for herself, or pleasing her father. Before he could pose the question to find out, their host and the owner of Fantasies, Inc. arrived at the singles’ mixer. Stepping up to the microphone, Merrilee smiled engagingly and greeted her guests.

“Good evening, everyone.” A gradual hush fell over the crowd as she spoke, and all eyes trained on her. While Merrilee appeared to be in her mid-fifties, she was still a very attractive woman, with rich brown hair softened by gray highlights and kind green eyes that seemed very worldly and wise.

“Welcome to Wild Fantasy, where anything goes and anything is possible,” she said once she had everyone’s attention. “We have a whole lot of adventurous games and events planned on the island, as well as fantasies to fulfill, so let that phrase be your guide for the week.”

Mitch silently accepted and agreed with Ms. Weston’s philosophy—especially where Nicole was concerned.

“Tomorrow, the competitions begin.” Excitement laced Merrilee’s refined voice. “Just to remind all of you of the rules and guidelines of this charity event, once you’ve chosen a partner by the end of tonight’s festivities, you’ll be paired up with that person for the duration of the week. If you or your team member at any time decides to part ways because of personal differences, or if either of you chooses to decline any of the competitions or events, you both forfeit your place in the contest.”

The strict rule made perfect sense to Mitch and no doubt kept discord to a minimum. It also forced couples to work through problems and differences. In other words, they had to compromise, an ability that was essential to any good, solid relationship.

He glanced at Nicole as Merrilee reiterated a few other basic guidelines, saw his partner’s intense expression, and knew on a gut level she wouldn’t break or bend any of those rules. She’d compromise with him and find some kind of common ground rather than relinquish the contest and prize money. Her perseverance was a strong trait that would work to their advantage.

“In a few days, by process of elimination based on scores, the teams will be narrowed down to the top seven finalists,” Merrilee continued. “From there, the final round of competition will begin. This event will be much more difficult in execution and will require contestants to use mental and physical strategies to ultimately win one of the top three monetary prizes.”

She paused for a moment, her gaze scanning the faces in the crowd in front of her. “But regardless of where you place in this contest, I want everyone to have a good time this week. And now that the band is returning from their break, you can enjoy the rest of the evening, find a partner for the contest and dance the night away.”

Nicole watched the other woman step down from the platform and mingle with her guests and took a few extra seconds to shore up her defenses against the man standing beside her—especially after the way she’d opened up and spilled one of her biggest personal disappointments to him. She’d never shared that story with anyone.

What in the world had come over her? She’d learned at a very early age to keep her feelings under wraps in order to keep her father’s criticism from stinging and her own strength and determination intact. She’d managed the feat successfully through her teenage and adult years, and even through her disastrous breakup with Jonathan. Yet Mitch, with his caring, dark brown eyes and startling tenderness, had managed to stir a deep yearning that threatened all the barricades she’d erected around her emotions. She could feel them crumbling, making room for more of that rare understanding and acceptance he’d offered. And that wouldn’t do at all. Because, ultimately, her surrender would cost her what she she’d worked so hard for and treasured the most: her independence.

“Are you ready to head over to the sign-up table?”

The rich, deep timbre of Mitch’s voice penetrated her thoughts, reaching past the loud buzz of rejuvenated conversation swirling around them. She chanced looking at him and her stomach did a little somersault at how tall, gorgeous and overwhelmingly male he was. Desire unfurled within her, a languorous kind of heat that slowly seeped through her veins and made her weak in the knees.

She wasn’t ready to make a weeklong commitment to Mitch right then, even if it was all for fun and games. She desperately needed a bit more time to regain control between them before she relinquished even a small piece of her freedom for the sake of the charity contest.

“Not quite yet,” she replied, and tossed a frivolous smile his way. “If I’m going to be shackled to you for an entire week as my partner I want to make sure you’re qualified and competent.”

His dark brows winged upward in surprise. “And what, exactly, do you have in mind to find out if I meet your standards?”

She thought for a moment and came up with the ideal way to test his skills, a match she was certain to win, which would put her back in charge mentally, emotionally and physically. “A game of darts in the lounge ought to give me a good indication of just how capable you are.”

She turned to leave the mixer and head down the pathway leading to the lounge near the hotel, but before she could take her second step Mitch caught her arm and stopped her. His hold slipped lower, and the fingers encircling her wrist branded her, spreading a fiery, alluring warmth across her skin. His bold gaze beckoned to feminine instincts and she shivered, wondering how one man could have such a potent affect on her senses.

Instead of letting her hand go as she expected, he clasped their palms together. Skin to skin, he threaded their fingers in an intimate fashion, keeping her close. “What about me testing your abilities?” he countered.

The arousing rumble of his voice made his question sound like a sexual taunt that included all kinds of forbidden, delicious possibilities. Or maybe her mind and body were just so deprived that she was imagining the underlying innuendo in his words. She tried to draw a steady breath and failed to calm the riot of nerves clamoring within her. The brazen, tantalizing stroke of his thumb against her rapid pulse and the tenacity blazing in his eyes didn’t bode well for the outcome of her latest challenge.

“You’re just going to have to trust me and my abilities.” She shrugged nonchalantly, though she was feeling anything but indifferent to him. “Or we could let our dart game speak for itself.”

Grinning, he dipped his head, and a lock of sable hair fell across his forehead. “That hardly seems fair, since I’m a lousy dart player.” No machismo on his part, just endearing honesty, and damn if that didn’t appeal to her. “How about we test our skills together out on the dance floor, instead?”

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