Fairly certain she'd just been insulted, she sniffed and said, "I'm running a business here, not prostituting myself for sex."
He smirked. "Obviously. Otherwise you'd be sampling the adventures right in your own backyard."
"I don't mingle with the guests."
"Seems to me you don't mingle with anyone." He stood and took his glass of wine with him, then walked around the veranda.
Morgan watched him warily.
"You have this luscious playground, but no man. You invited me here to stay the week, so obviously no boyfriend comes calling on a regular basis. Considering that there's not a huge population inhabiting this island, I'd say you keep to yourself all the time."
"What's your point?" She didn't like this turn in their conversation.
"I'm getting to it." He leaned against the arbor pillar and sipped his wine. "You're hot, but you don't have sex. I'm wondering why you're repressing your natural inclination."
"The resort is for the paying guests. The employees don't indulge, either."
"Ah, but the employees have personal lives outside their work at the resort."
"How do you know?"
The corners of his mouth lifted. "I asked a few of them. Your employees get it on regularly. Either with spouses or lovers. You don't appear to get it on at all--on or off the resort."
"I'm still waiting for your point." She couldn't believe she'd sat and listened to him for this long.
"My point is, I think you're hiding something."
"I have nothing to hide." She stood and cleared the table. He followed her inside with their glasses and bottle of wine.
"Don't you? You said your past is off limits. Most people, given the opportunity to talk about themselves, start at their birth and provide every stinking detail from then on. You don't want to talk about anything except what happened after you bought Paradise Resort. Which means every part of your life before three years ago is a complete mystery."
Morgan turned to the sink and ran water to wash the dishes, refusing to meet Tony's probing gaze. "My personal life is not the subject of this article."
"Oh, but it is. Your entire life leading up to the point you bought the resort is a subject of interest. How else will the readers know what compelled you to design and implement a place like Paradise?"
"I came into some money. I wanted to buy a resort island, and there was a lack of places where people could indulge in their sexuality so freely. It's very simple, actually."
She felt him behind her. He was so close his breath whispered against her neck when he spoke. She shivered.
"But why? Why did you buy it? Why a place like this?"
Agreeing to this interview had been a huge mistake. She hadn't thought things out properly, hadn't planned on Tony getting so personal.
"You know," she said, drying her hands on a towel and turning around, "I'm exhausted. Can we continue this conversation in the morning?"
He hadn't stepped back when she turned. His closeness unnerved her. She could see the warm amber flecks in his dark eyes, feel the heat of his body emanating toward her. She hadn't been this close to a man since that last night with David. Only this wasn't unpleasant. This was--too much to bear.
She made a move forward and he stepped back, giving her room to skirt around him. "I'm tired, Tony. I'm going to bed."
Without waiting for his reply she headed down the hall and quickly closed the door to her room. She flopped on the bed and tried to catch her breath, her palm instinctively resting on the frantic beating of her heart. She was damn near hyperventilating. Was it due to Tony's probing questions, or how she felt when he stood so close to her?
She already knew the answer. If she wasn't so damned afraid she'd have stepped into his arms and kissed him. Her body thrummed with desire, her pussy moist with anticipation and excitement.
Instead she'd run to her room and shut the door, putting a physical wall between them. She'd never run from a man in her life. She'd always thought herself an enlightened woman, confident in her sexuality. When she wanted a man she played no games--she went right after him.
But not now. Now she ran. She cowered. She feared.
Goddamit, she feared.
Damn David to hell for doing this to her!
*
After Morgan had made her exit, Tony contemplated taking a swim to cool off. But he figured he might as well try to get some sleep. He'd stripped and slid into bed, hoping like hell the sounds of Morgan's passionate moans and groans wouldn't permeate through the walls tonight.
And they hadn't. Okay, he admitted to himself, so he'd purposely listened for them. But fortunately or unfortunately, he hadn't heard a sound from her room. She'd probably gone right to sleep.
He wished he'd been as lucky. Rolling over again to look at the clock, he pulled a pillow over his head and cursed. Three fucking hours ago he'd gone to bed. And for three fucking hours he'd tossed and turned and rolled around and couldn't for the life of him get anywhere even near drowsy.
So now what? He supposed he could turn on the light and do some work on his laptop. He flipped it open and stared at the screen for a good five minutes, mentally damning the woman next door for screwing with his ability to think straight.
If she wasn't so damn mysterious about everything he could do his job and forget about her. But no, she had to be all secretive about her past. Which only got his journalistic juices flowing like Niagara Falls.
Right. And he wasn't attracted to her on a personal level at all.
Get over yourself, Marino. You're so hot for her you can smell her sweet scent from here.
He scrubbed his hand over his face and stared at the laptop screen. Then an idea hit.
If she wouldn't come forth with information about her past, then he'd damn well dig it up himself. He had plenty of PI contacts out there who owed him a favor. He'd put out some feelers and get the dirt on Morgan Brown himself.
He went online and shot out some e-mails, supremely satisfied with himself. That'll teach Morgan to clam up on him. He might have to resort to dirty tricks to get the goods on her past, but by God nobody pulled one over on him. If he wanted information, he'd get it.
Ignoring the niggling of guilt sledgehammering his gut, he closed the laptop and turned out the light, hoping he might be able to get some sleep. But as he walked past the window a movement caught his eye. He stopped and looked out toward the pool.
Morgan was out there, wearing a long white robe that shimmied against her body like a lapping wave. It clung to every one of her lush curves, making it easy for Tony to see she was naked underneath it.
She approached the pool and stood there for a moment, looking to her right and then her left. Then she did an about face and looked toward his room.
He ducked back quickly, not wanting to be caught spying on her yet again. Shit, he still couldn't believe he'd voluntarily told her he'd watched her masturbate last night.
What a fucking idiot. She'd have never known if he hadn't said something. And he still couldn't understand what compelled him to admit that he'd loitered outside her bedroom window while she got herself off.
Mentally counting the seconds since she'd looked his way, he took a chance and peered out the window again. She'd turned her back to him again, gingerly slipping one foot in the water, then taking it back out.
He hardened instantly, thinking about the hidden treasures under her robe. What she might look like naked, hoping against hope that she was out there to--
Yes! He pumped his fist in the air in triumph as she untied the robe and let it slowly slide down over her shoulders. His breathing quickened in anticipation of once again seeing her gorgeous body, this time from a completely different angle. He'd been dying to know if her ass looked as good in reality as it did under her clothes.
Briefly he wondered if he was turning into some kind of pervert, then cast the thought aside as lame. If she was going to parade around in the backyard buck ass naked and he just happened to be passing by his window, then s
he was fair game.
He'd always been good at rationalization.
The robe stopped its downward motion as it rested on the swell of her hips, then pooled at her feet after she wriggled her ass. He groaned at her movements, which certainly got his cock's attention. It was upright, wide awake and pointing toward the pool as if to say, 'Get out there and fuck her, you moron! We're horny!'
But as she stood there naked, her body silhouetted clearly in the moonlight, his heart slammed against his chest and he sucked in a breath.
On the lower half of her back were a half dozen criss-crossed scars. Not new ones because they showed white against her tanned skin. But they weren't ancient ones, either. From the looks of them, probably a few years old at the most.
Tony had done enough articles and research into the seamier side of life to know exactly how she'd gotten those scars.
She'd been beaten. Whipped. Viciously.
Son of a bitch!
Chapter Five
A red haze of anger blinded him. Tony gripped the windowsill and tried to calm the rage bubbling up inside.
He felt sick. Not because Morgan's scars were repulsive. If anything, they showed how courageous she was. To survive beatings like that must have taken incredible strength. The scars were merely physical proof of how vulnerable a woman could be.
And how sick and sadistic some fucking bastard had been to do that to her.
He caught her profile as she walked down the stairs into the pool. Despite his state of shock, Tony couldn't calm the arousal the mere sight of her caused. She was truly an amazingly beautiful woman. Smart, courageous, with a lush, curvaceous body that begged for a man's touch.
His touch. God, he wanted to touch her. Everywhere. And kiss and nibble and lick every ounce of skin--including the scars on her back.
He should give her privacy. Obviously she'd gone swimming in the middle of the night because she wanted time by herself. Not once had she joined him in the pool during the early evening hours.
She wanted to be alone. And he should let her. But he couldn't. Stupid as it was, he slid open the door and stepped outside, not bothering to hide his nudity nor the raging hard-on that wouldn't subside.
Like a water nymph, she floated on the surface of the pool, the moonlight bathing her in an almost ethereal glow. Her hair fanned out in all directions, undulating with the lapping waves.
She hadn't noticed him standing there at the edge of the pool, until she slowly opened her eyes, then widened them, shock evident on her surprised face.
Scrambling neck deep under the water she shouted at him. "You scared me half to death, goddamit!"
"Sorry."
Despite her anger she looked him over from top to bottom, her gaze lingering on his still-hard cock. Which made it stand up, even more painfully erect now that she watched him. She looked up and he smiled at her.
She wasn't smiling back. "I don't suppose I could be given a moment's privacy in my own home, could I?"
He sat on the edge of the pool and dangled his legs in the water. "Guess not."
Her face flamed. "Go away and leave me alone!"
"Why?" he asked, knowing she was trying to hide her scars. Despite the fact her breasts were visible to him through the clear water, she didn't turn her back.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm naked. I'm trying to take a swim. Alone. Do I need to spell it out for you?"
"No, I'm pretty adept at figuring out what someone's thinking." He made no move to leave. Nor was he going to. Morgan Brown needed to come out of hiding. He didn't really know why he felt like her rescuer, and frankly didn't want to delve too deeply into that thought at the moment. All he knew was the little pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit. But there was more he needed to know.
"Apparently you're not as adept as you think. Could I make it any clearer to you?"
Tony tilted his head and admired her breasts. Her nipples pebbled and he couldn't hide his smirk. "It's looking pretty damn clear to me from here, thanks."
She huffed a huge sigh, which only showed off her breasts more. His cock appreciated the view. Clearly it had no intent on deflating any time soon. He ached with the pulsing need to come. Right between the legs of the flaming siren in the pool.
"Tony, go away. Please."
"How did you get those scars, Morgan?"
She froze instantly and stared at him. He waited, then finally she asked in a near whisper. "You saw them?"
He nodded.
"Dammit, I told you to leave me alone!" She swam toward the stairs, but before she could get out he slipped in the water and blocked her exit.
"Don't run. Talk to me."
She shivered and shook her head. The water was warm, the night balmy. She was afraid, but why?
"Get out of my way!"
"No. Tell me what happened to you."
"It's none of your business."
He made a movement toward her and she quickly backed away, splashing water in her wake. She treaded water in the middle of the pool, her eyes wary.
"Morgan, I won't touch you. I promise."
She didn't answer. Somehow he knew she didn't believe him. Then again, what reason would she have to trust him in the first place? He was a stranger to her. A stranger who had already violated her privacy once.
He had to calm her down. He read the panic in her widened eyes, saw the tremors making her shiver. Her breathing was short and rapid, her body full of adrenalin. "Morgan. Relax. I'm going to sit on the stairs here, see?"
As slowly as he could he backed up and sat on the stairs, the water reaching his chest.
But still, she didn't move.
"Tell me what happened to you."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I told you. It's none of your business. My life isn't fodder for some tabloid journalist."
He held up both his hands. "Our conversation tonight is strictly off the record. Nothing we discuss will ever be printed."
She wanted to believe him, he could see it. She sucked in her lower lip and worried it with her teeth. God, the woman really needed to talk to someone.
"Come over here. Sit by me. I won't touch you unless you ask me to. You have all the control, Morgan. Please. Trust me."
Uncertainty crossed her face, then she lifted her chin and threw back her shoulders before swimming quickly toward him.
Having won some internal battle with herself, she stood in front of him, the water barely covering her voluptuous breasts. Despite the fact he itched to reach out for the succulent globes and caress them, he didn't move so much as a muscle.
"What happened to you?" he asked again.
She didn't answer.
"Morgan, I know I've given you no reason to trust me, but have you ever opened up to anyone about where you got those scars?"
"No."
"Then tell me. Take a chance and trust me. I won't print what you tell me. You need to talk to someone."
"Why?" Her eyes still held a hooded wariness that stabbed at his heart. She was like a cornered rabbit and he was filled with the desire to strangle the sonofabitch who'd hurt her.
"It'll help. You carry a fear around with you that closes you off. Do you have any friends on this island you can talk to?"
"No."
"Then talk to me." Trust me. Please, I know I don't deserve it, but trust me.
"I was beaten," she answered quietly. She avoided eye contact and offered a nonchalant shrug.
"Obviously. By whom?"
"My ex-husband."
Tony fought to keep his own breathing under control as a raging desire to kill the man burned within him. "Once?"
She shook her head.
"How often?"
"Frequently."
He closed his eyes for a second, unable to fathom what kind of pain she'd gone through. When he opened them again, she was looking at him.
"How long were you married?"
"Five years."
"And did he beat you from the beginning?"
&nb
sp; Her lips curved into a cynical smile. "No, he didn't start right away. He waited until after the honeymoon."
Rotten, fucking, no good sonofabitch. Tony filed a mental note to somehow, someway, find out who her husband was and make sure he paid, one way or another.
"How did it happen? Didn't you have any signs that he was an abuser?"
"No. He was very sweet to me from the moment we met. The monster didn't show his claws until after the honeymoon."
She spoke as if she were in a trance, turning her gaze somewhere out in the distance toward the ocean. And her body no longer shivered. Instead she stood ramrod straight, her expression cold.
He wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her against him. Then kiss her and make love to her until he melted the ice.
"Why didn't you tell someone?"
"I tried. My parents refused to believe that someone of his background could possibly hurt me. They told me I was being childish and immature, and that whatever had happened needed to stay private between me and my husband."
"You're from a prominent family?"
She nodded, but he'd already surmised that. "I met him at my debutante ball. He was the perfect catch. All the girls wanted him."
"But you got him."
She smirked. "Of course. I was young, naive and believed in love at first sight. I was also aggressive back then, and went after what I wanted. And I wanted him."
"How old were you when you married?"
"Nineteen."
Jesus. Barely out of her childhood and thrust into the arms of Satan.
"Did he abuse you sexually?" Tony couldn't stop the questions from pouring out. Suddenly he needed--had to know everything about her. About that bastard. About what he'd done.
Now that she'd opened the floodgates, Morgan seemed to want to talk about it. But she'd started to shiver again. Before she could answer his last question, he suggested they step out of the pool and dry off.
He handed her a towel and her robe, careful not to touch her. He'd made a promise, and no matter how much he wanted to hold her in his lap and soothe away her pain, he wouldn't.
Not unless she asked.
Tony opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass for both of them. Morgan drank hers down quickly, seemingly unaware of what she'd swallowed.
She hadn't answered his question about sexual abuse, and he figured he'd let the wine calm her. And if she didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't press her. Not tonight, anyway.
"I used to have fantasies," she said, startling him. She'd been silent for a while and he figured she didn't want to talk anymore tonight.