Vanessa tapped her foot impatiently on the ceramic tile floor. "I'm talking about the man who lives next door, Cheyenne," she said trying to hide her frustration. She had a harder time squashing the irritation she felt with herself for being so curious about the man's ident.i.ty.

It was morning and the pool workers were ten minutes late already. She couldn't wait to gather her stuff and go back down to the beach in hopes that she would see the stranger again. For some reason he had played on her thoughts all night.

"I truly don't know anything about a man living next door," Cheyenne said convincingly. "That house has been up for sale for a while, but I hadn't heard anything of a new owner. It must have been rather recent."

After a brief pause, Cheyenne then asked, "Why are you interested in my new neighbor, Van?"

Vanessa frowned and searched her mind for a reason her sister would believe and decided to be honest. "I saw him yesterday. At least I caught a glimpse of him," she said, deciding not to tell Cheyenne about the man swimming in the nude. "And I liked what I saw."

"Umm, your hormones acting up, are they?" her sister asked in a teasing voice.

"You sound like Sienna, and no, my hormones are not acting up. It was the usual reaction a woman would have to a good-looking man."

"Then do something about it. Be neighborly and go over there, introduce yourself and welcome him to the neighborhood."

Vanessa's mouth quirked. Of the three of them Cheyenne had always been the most daring. "I can't do that."

"Sure you can. You're a liberated woman. You don't have to wait for the man to make the first move. What are you afraid of?"

That was the same question Sienna had asked her about Cameron. "I'm not afraid of anything," she came back to say. She was wrong, though. She was afraid of something. Rejection. Thanks to Harlan Shaw.

"Well, my advice is, if you're interested, act on it."

"Goodbye, Cheyenne."

"Why do you always do that, Van? When someone tells you something you don't want to hear, you bow out in a hurry."

"You just answered your own question, Cheyenne," she said with a weak smile in her voice. "You're telling me something I really don't want to hear. Love you. Goodbye."

Vanessa hung up the phone.

A couple of hours later, Vanessa stood in her sister's kitchen with her back against the counter looking at the picnic basket she had placed on the table. It was her idea of a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift and contained a bottle of spring water, a block of cheese she had picked up from the market two days ago, as well as a pack of crackers. Then there was the fruit she had added and for dessert, oatmeal raisin cookies she had baked.

Vanessa knew if either Taylor or Cheyenne was putting the basket together they would probably include a tablecloth, the proper eating utensils and enough food for two with the intent of joining him in a picnic instead of giving him everything he needed to enjoy on his own. To say both of her sisters were bold when it came to dating was an understatement. But then neither had encountered the likes of Harlan, the man responsible for rattling her self-confidence.

In fact, neither of her sisters nor her cousins had ever heard of him. The only person who'd known about him was Sienna. Vanessa had immediately been taken with Harlan's handsome features and smooth talk while vacationing for two weeks in London four years ago. He'd been a college professor from Los Angeles on a year's sabbatical doing research for a book he was writing.

She'd thought he was special, an intellectual genius. She'd also a.s.sumed that he had fallen in love with her, as she had with him, and that he would want to continue what they'd started once she returned to the States. Instead, on the last night they spent together, the one and only time they'd been intimate, he'd told her they were through. She hadn't been everything that he fully desired from a woman in bed. After the pain of his cruel words, she had made a decision not to let any man close enough to break her heart again. That was the main reason she kept a comfortable distance between herself and Cameron Cody. She would admit-but only to herself and only when she was in a good mood-that she was attracted to him, but her mother hadn't raised her to be a fool twice over.

So instead of being as bold as she wanted to be and inviting the man next door to picnic with her on the beach, she would do the neighborly thing and present him with a welcome basket and leave. She wouldn't even enter his home if he invited her inside. He was a stranger and she knew nothing about him. He could be married or some woman's fiance. She had enough to keep her mind occupied over the next two weeks. She certainly didn't need a man around causing problems. All she had to do when she felt weak was to remember Harlan, although she had to admit Harlan's memory had a tendency to fade to black when Cameron was around.

She walked over to the basket, opened the lid and did a quick check to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. She wondered what Mr. Neighbor would think when she appeared on his doorstep. She intended to meet the man then put him out of her thoughts once and for all.

Little Red Riding Hood.

That was the first thought that came to Cameron's mind when he glanced out his library window and saw the feminine figure coming up his walkway dressed in a red shorts set, a red straw hat and carrying a picnic basket. He pasted a smile on his lips. It seemed that Vanessa would be finding out his ident.i.ty sooner than he had antic.i.p.ated, but that was just as well.

He stood and pressed the intercom b.u.t.ton on his desk and within minutes an elderly lady appeared. It seemed that Martha Pritchett came with the house, having been housekeeper to the previous four owners, over a period of fifteen years. She had been born and raised on the island and arrived early on Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings. He really didn't need her that often and with little to do, she usually left by noon. But during the time she was there, he'd found her to be very efficient.

"Yes, Mr. Cody?"

"I'm about to get a visitor."

"And you want me to send them away," she said quickly, a.s.suming what would be his position on unwelcome guests.

In most circ.u.mstances she wasn't far off the mark, but in this case, the last thing he wanted was Vanessa sent away. "No. I want you to do whatever it takes to encourage her to stay. I'm going upstairs to change and will be back down in a minute."

"Yes, sir."

"And in case it comes up in conversation, I prefer that you not give her my name."

If Martha found his request strange, her expression didn't show it. "All right."

With adrenaline of the strongest kind rushing through his veins, Cameron turned and left the room.

Vanessa stood, stretched and for the third time dismissed the idea of leaving before officially meeting her neighbor. She'd only rung his bell once when the door had been opened by an elderly lady with a huge smile who'd introduced herself as Martha.

Vanessa had given her the spiel of wanting to welcome her sister's new neighbor, and then, without batting an eye, the older woman had ushered her inside. That had been a little over five minutes ago. Explaining that the master of the house would be down shortly, she led Vanessa to the ma.s.sive living room. A few moments later she had returned with a tray of hot tea and the most delicious teacakes Vanessa had ever eaten. Then she had excused herself.

Vanessa glanced around the room, admiring everything she saw and wondering if the decorating was the taste of the present owner or if, as in the case of Cheyenne's home, the furnishings had come with the house. Whichever the case, Vanessa was in awe of the furniture's rich design, as well as the cost of the paintings that hung on the walls. Being best friend to Sienna, who was an interior designer, had acquainted her with the different designs and style of furniture and it was plain to see everything in the house spoke of wealth.

And then there was this breathtaking view of the ocean through the large floor-to-ceiling window. She could stand there looking out at that view for hours, but she didn't have that much time to spare, she thought, glancing at her watch. The five-minute wait time had stretched to seven, and a part of her refused to be kept waiting any longer. Besides, each and every time she was reminded of what she had seen of her neighbor yesterday made goose b.u.mps form on her arms. What if he walked into the room wearing something as skimpy as the swimming trunks he'd had on yesterday? Or, worse yet, what if he was bold enough to walk into the room wearing nothing at all?

Vanessa felt her face flush at the thought and immediately decided maybe coming here hadn't been a good idea after all. She should have waited until their paths crossed on the beach or something. Sighing, she was about to turn around when she heard a deep husky voice behind her.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

Vanessa went still. She knew that voice. She knew that sensual texture, that smooth timbre, that silky reverberation. Her throat immediately tightened around the gasp that formed in it. She felt heat flow up her arms as a tingling sensation swept through her at the same time that realization streamed all through her. It was highly unlikely that two men could produce that same s.e.xy sound. It was a voice she'd always thought was meant to seduce, and it could only belong to one man.

She quickly turned around and her gaze clashed with dark eyes, the same dark eyes she often fantasized about at night in the privacy of her bedroom. Before she could utter his name in shock and disbelief, she watched as a small smile touched the corners of his lips right before he spoke.

"h.e.l.lo, Vanessa. Welcome to my home."

"Your home?" Vanessa snapped the words as she fought the intense anger that was coursing through her, consuming every part of her body. If this was somebody's idea of a joke, she wasn't at all amused. She closed her eyes, hoping this was a bad dream. There was no way Cameron Cody could be here when he was supposed to be in Charlotte. But seconds later, when she reopened her eyes, he still stood across the room, staring at her. She could feel her blood pressure rise.

Her gaze swept over him. His head was clean-shaven, his eyes deep and dark. An angular jaw with a cleft in the chin completed an outrageously handsome face. This was the first time she'd seen him wearing anything other than a business suit or tux, but the jeans and pullover shirt looked good on him. He appeared tall, solid, rugged and impenetrable. And just as yesterday, when she had seen him from a distance, his mere presence denoted some sort of masculine power.

"Yes, my home," he said, breaking into her thoughts and stepping into the room.

She narrowed her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. "And just when did you buy it?"

"A few days ago," he replied in a low, controlled voice, a sharp contrast to hers. She was livid and her voice reflected her emotion.

"Please don't tell me that you bought this house when you found out I was coming here."

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and met her narrowed gaze. Instead of showing any sign of wilting under her angry stare, he simply said, "Okay, then I won't tell you."

Vanessa heard her own teeth gnashing and wondered if he heard it, as well. Angrily, she strode to the center of the room to stand in front of him. "Just who the h.e.l.l do you think you are?"

"I prefer to know your your thoughts instead, Vanessa. You tell me who thoughts instead, Vanessa. You tell me who you you think I am." think I am."

She tried not to notice the s.e.xy drawl in his voice when he'd said her name, or the intense look in his eyes. She threw her head back and tilted it at an angle. "I think you are the most ruthless, uncaring, callous, hard-nosed and unfeeling man that I know."

He nodded slowly and then said, "If you believe that, then it means you really don't know me very well, because I'm considerate, compa.s.sionate, loyal and pa.s.sionate. I can prove it."

Of the four qualities he'd named the only one she could believe he had in his favor was pa.s.sion. "I don't want you to prove anything. You being here and buying this house only show how far you'll go to get something you want, something you intend to possess. What is it about me that has become an obsession to you, Cameron? Is it because the Steele Corporation was the one company you couldn't get your cold, callous hands on and now you've decided to go after me for revenge?"

"My wanting you has nothing to do with revenge, Vanessa. It has everything to do with the intensity of my desire for you."

A part of Vanessa wished he hadn't said that one word, a word she'd been battling since meeting him. Desire. Desire. Cameron Cody wasn't a man a woman could ignore-at least not a woman with any degree of pa.s.sion in her bones. There was something about him that grabbed you, s.n.a.t.c.hed your attention the moment he walked into a room. It was something that went beyond just a handsome face and a well-built body. There was something perilous about him, something downright lethal. She was convinced that beneath his civilized side there was a part of him that could be downright ruthless, unrefined and plain old raw. Some women were drawn to such men, but she wasn't. Cameron Cody wasn't a man a woman could ignore-at least not a woman with any degree of pa.s.sion in her bones. There was something about him that grabbed you, s.n.a.t.c.hed your attention the moment he walked into a room. It was something that went beyond just a handsome face and a well-built body. There was something perilous about him, something downright lethal. She was convinced that beneath his civilized side there was a part of him that could be downright ruthless, unrefined and plain old raw. Some women were drawn to such men, but she wasn't.

"I care nothing about the intensity of your desire for me," she finally said. "I just want to be left alone."

"I've left you alone long enough."

"Excuse me?"

"I said I've left you alone long enough," he drawled smoothly and in a way that had those same goose b.u.mps reappearing on her arms. "I've given you more time than I've given anything I've ever wanted."

Fire flared in Vanessa's eyes. She couldn't believe the audacity of the man. "And should I feel grateful about that?"

Cameron moved a step closer. "It's not grat.i.tude I want you to feel. Right now I want you to feel something else altogether."

Before she could blink, he stepped closer and pulled her into his arms. His mouth descended upon hers, s.n.a.t.c.hing her next breath. For some reason that she didn't understand, instinctively her lips parted at the same time she felt strong hands wrap around her. Before she could register anything else, before she could regain total control of what was happening and stop it from going further, Cameron inserted his tongue into her mouth.

The moment she sampled his taste, just as bold and daring as the rest of him, she gasped. Then she moaned deep in her throat when her pulse rate escalated. Suddenly, she felt a spine-tingling sensation race through her body, along with an intense need to put all she had into this kiss.

The kiss was everything she'd hoped it would not be, the kind of kiss that drew her to him like a magnet. It was the kind of kiss that did more than give her a sampling of his taste. It was feeding her in a way she had never been fed before. His invasive tongue was doing things a male tongue had never done in her mouth before, making it an art. With other men, she had considered kissing a ch.o.r.e, something that was expected of you.

But Cameron was taking the art of French-kissing to a whole other level. It was downright scandalous, all the things he was doing. But a part of her didn't want him to stop. And he was getting her to join in the erotic byplay, something she had never done before.

She felt herself drowning in his sensuality, getting smothered in the pa.s.sion. And she knew if she didn't put a stop to this madness now, he would claim a victory; the same way he did with anything else he went after. And she refused to become another one of his claimed possessions.

With more strength than she'd thought she had, she pushed herself out of his arms and inhaled deeply to regain control of her senses. She felt fl.u.s.tered and knew she probably looked it, as well. But to her way of thinking, he maintained a calm demeanor, looking totally in control, programmed and completely at ease. His coolness made her even angrier. It also proved what she'd said earlier. The man had no feelings.

"That should not have happened," she snapped.

"But it did, and it will again," he said with strong conviction in his voice. "We are two pa.s.sionate individuals, Vanessa. The reason you didn't fight me off just now is because you've been aching to taste me just as long as I've been aching to taste you. And things won't stop there, sweetheart. They can only go further."

"No!"

"Yes. You can't fight me on this. Becoming mine is inevitable."

"Like h.e.l.l!"

A small smile curved his wide mouth. "Actually it'll be more like heaven. That I promise you."

She took another step back. "Don't promise me anything, Cameron. Just stay away from me."

"Sorry, I can't do that."

Her mind registered his words but she refused to accept them. "I will fight you with every breath in my body."

"You do that. And at the same time I plan on claiming you with every breath in mine."

"You know nothing about me!"

"But I will. I intend to get to know everything about you, Vanessa. Count on it."

Knowing that continuing to exchange words with him was a complete waste of her time, she angrily moved around him to leave his home, pausing only to s.n.a.t.c.h her red straw hat off the table.

Chapter 3.

"Mr. Cody, what do you want me to do with the basket that Ms. Steele brought?"

Cameron forced his gaze from the window where he watched an angry Vanessa make her way down his palm-tree-lined driveway toward the path that would lead her back to her place. To say she was highly upset with him would be an understatement.

He turned slowly, took a deep breath and let it out before asking, "Where is it?"

"I placed it on the kitchen table."

"Leave it there. I'll take care of it."

"Yes, sir." She turned to leave.

"And, Martha?"