Going Dark Read online

  The much-hated word resonated in her ears. It had been the worst criticism her father could level on someone, and she’d always reacted against it. Just because not all men wanted to play superhero like him didn’t make them weak. And ironically being a superhero had made her father exactly that.

  Julien wasn’t weak. He was kind and compassionate and thoughtful. He’d always treated her with consideration and respect. He was always a perfect gentleman—even when they made love. He took his time—foreplay was the national sport of France, he liked to jest—always seeing to her pleasure first. She’d never had someone spend so much time kissing her shoulders and arms. If she sometimes wished he would just hurry up, she told herself not to be ridiculous. She was lucky to have someone so considerate and romantic in her life.

  She was being unfair to him. And she realized how much when he reached over to take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before bringing it to his mouth. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. But I was jealous.”

  “What?” Annie was incredulous. “Of the scruffy captain?”

  Julien gave her a searching look from under his indecently long lashes. “I saw the way he looked at you, and I thought you might be attracted to him.”

  He couldn’t be serious. She might have noticed the captain’s longshoreman’s physique and size—it would be hard not to—but that wasn’t what attracted her to a man. Admittedly he had amazingly sharp and piercing eyes, and the part of his face she could see beneath the threadbare cap and heavy beard appeared to be good-looking in that tough-guy fashion that could be appealing, but physical appeal wasn’t what was important to her.

  Or rather, it wasn’t usually all that was important to her.

  “How could you think that? You are what I’m attracted to. You are drop-dead gorgeous”—not to mention clean-shaven—“sophisticated, cultured, smart, and the most charming man I have ever met.” The captain had about all the charm of a rock. “Not to mention that you care about the same things I do like politics and the environment.” She shook her head. “Didn’t you see him washing out that oily engine part in the sea? God only knows how many carbon emissions that old guzzler of a boat he captains is giving off. He probably has an old pickup truck or SUV to go along with it. A guy like that?” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine anything we’d have to talk about.”

  “You seemed to talk about diving long enough,” Julien pointed out. She bit her lip, realizing he was right. She’d felt bad for excluding him, but it was rare she had the opportunity to talk with someone who knew as much about diving as she did. Julien held her gaze and added, “And I don’t think talking was necessarily what he had in mind.”

  The realization of what he meant made her blush. And for a moment she imagined what it would be like having that big, muscular body on top of her—naked—and that sizable column she’d had her hand wrapped around slowly pushing inside.

  No. She immediately knew that he wouldn’t be slow. He’d be hard and fast and probably a little rough. Just the way she imagined when she was alone in bed at night.

  The wave of heat that passed through her was so powerful, so intense, she almost shuddered.

  Maybe Julien was a little more right than she wanted him to be. The physical attraction had been stronger than she wanted to admit. But it didn’t mean anything.

  She returned the squeeze of his hand with one of her own. She rolled her thumb over his finely boned fingers. He had good hands, even if they were a little soft. But she wasn’t Jerry Seinfeld; she wasn’t going to get skeeved out by something as silly as “man hands”—or rather, the lack thereof.

  The captain’s hands had been big and rough with calluses. She frowned, remembering the cuts and burn marks as well. She’d noticed a few marks on one side of his face as well that looked recently healed. Had he been in some kind of accident? Was that why he seemed so grim?

  Why was she thinking about this?

  She turned back to Julien. “I think you are reading far more into it than there was. I don’t think Captain Dan likes me any better than I like him. But none of that matters. The only man I have in my mind is you.”

  Her words seemed to convince him, and things felt back to normal as they walked back to the room hand in hand. She even felt a slight flutter of excitement when he closed the door behind them and started to kiss her. Until he turned on the light and moved on to her neck to begin the long, drawn-out process of unbuttoning her blouse.

  With Julien everything was long and drawn out.

  He must have sensed her withdrawal. He lifted his head and looked down at her. “What is it?”

  He really was good-looking with that dark hair slumped over his brow, his dark eyes, full lips, and clefted chin. If physical attraction was so important to her—she thought with frustration, recalling her reaction to the captain—why wasn’t she into this?

  “Nothing,” she said. “Don’t stop.” She tried to move his head down to her breast. She liked the way he circled his tongue on her nipple and sometimes sucked, but apparently it was too soon for that. He began to press slow kisses around her clavicle. Not the clavicle, she nearly groaned. He would be there for an hour.

  Impatience rose inside her. She couldn’t hold back and blurted, “Do you think we could, um, go a little faster tonight?”

  He lifted his head again, his eyes narrowed. She could tell right away that she’d made a mistake. He looked mortally offended. As if she’d just impugned his honor as a lover and a Frenchman. “What do you mean? Do you not like how I make love to you?”

  “Of course I do!” she exclaimed vehemently. “It’s just that I’m a little tired—”

  Wrong thing to say. He released her as if she were a . . . box of pink wine. His expression held the coldness that reminded her of his friend Jean Paul’s. “Go to bed, then. But it won’t be with me until you figure out whether you want that. All in—isn’t that how you Americans say it? But you better figure it out fast. I went out on a branch for you, but there are plenty of others who can take your place.”

  Limb, not branch. But she didn’t correct him. She’d never seen him so angry. But what was he talking about? “Julien, wait!”

  But it was too late. He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  • • •

  It was after midnight when Annie realized that she was going to have to find Julien and apologize. In addition to being sensitive, he apparently had a stubborn streak. As that was a character trait she understood, she figured it was up to her to make it right—even though she hadn’t really done anything wrong.

  But she was feeling guilty, suspecting that her less-than-amorous response to Julien might have more to do with her illicit thoughts about Captain Dan than she wanted to admit.

  She didn’t know what had come over her; she never should have blurted out her request like that. It was easy to see how Julien had taken it the wrong way. She hadn’t been rejecting him or criticizing his lovemaking . . . exactly. She’d just wanted a little more “rip off the clothes” and not quite as much “romance.”

  He’d clearly overreacted—and she didn’t appreciate his threat to find another woman to “replace” her if that was what he meant by that strange comment—but guilt propelled her to throw on jeans and a sweatshirt, head down into the still-crowded bar, where Sergio and Marie told her Julien had gone down to the camp with Jean Paul and some of the others, and venture out into the cool, starry night.

  She sighed at the fresh brace of air. She could definitely get used to this. She loved how the temperature dropped at night here even in the summer. Because she had only lived in the South—Florida, Georgia, South Carolina and Louisiana—it was a new experience for her. Summer in the South meant hot and humid—day or night. Although at this time of year, Scotland didn’t have much night. Even though it was after midnight, the sun had set only a couple of hours ago, and would rise again