The Mighty Quinns: Marcus, Ian & Declan: The Mighty Quinns: Marcus / The Mighty Quinns: Ian / The Mighty Quinns: Declan

She wasn’t about to ruin a custom-made set of Goyard. She loved her luggage. Over the past few years, it had been the only constant in her life, and balanced against the humiliation of seeing Marcus again, she’d definitely choose to save the luggage rather than save face.

Eden grabbed a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt and tugged them on. It was always best to dress down when she traveled. With sunglasses, a hat and a wrinkled linen jacket, she had about a twenty-percent chance of going unnoticed. She would head back to Manhattan, get a suite at the Belleville and hide out for a few days until she figured out her next move.

It wasn’t the Ritz or the Four Seasons or the Peninsula, but she’d be safe there. The staff at the trendy Hotel Belleville were perfectly discreet, and she loved the Frette bathrobes and the French breakfasts and the handsome Italian concierge who always did his best to make her laugh. And the hotel was usually off the tabloid radar.

Once she was dressed and packed, Eden dragged her luggage up to the cockpit. She was nearly finished when she heard the dinghy approach. Marcus waved at her, but Eden didn’t respond, watching him from behind the dark lenses of her sunglasses. He tied the dinghy behind the boat and crawled up the swim ladder, swinging a gallon of varnish up onto the deck.

He saw her luggage and stopped, a frown creasing his brow. “Are you going somewhere?” he asked, stepping into the cockpit.

Eden avoided his gaze. In fact, she avoided looking at him at all, avoided his broad shoulders and his narrow hips, his thick hair curled at the nape of his neck and his deep blue eyes. Even now, in the midst of her hurt and humiliation, she ached to touch him.

“I’m leaving,” she murmured. “I was just waiting for you to get back with the dinghy.”

“Life on board gotten a little too boring for you?” he asked.

She heard the sarcasm in his voice and it cut deep. Of course that’s what he’d think. He’d assume she was ready to jet back to Europe and throw herself into the middle of another scandal. “It’s just time to leave,” she said.

“Does this have anything to do with what happened last night?” Marcus asked. “Because I realize it didn’t mean anything to you. And that’s all right. We were just … scratching an itch.”

“It’s nice to know that you think of me as an itch,” she said. “It’s better than a slut or a whore.”

He blinked, taken aback by her candor. “What are you talking about? I never—”

“Oh, be honest, Barney. You can tell me what you really think of me. Everyone else seems to have an opinion. I bet the clerk at the grocery store thinks she knows me well enough to comment. And the guy at the gas station, I’m sure he has a few choice words.” Eden reached down and grabbed the copy of the Inquisitor from the front pocket of her tote, then tossed it at him. “I found that in your cabin. I’m sure it was much more entertaining than the Tom Clancy novel.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you spent money on that. I would have told you the truth for free had you asked.”

“I didn’t buy that,” he said.

“Oh, are they giving them away on every street corner? I shouldn’t be surprised. Hometown girl gone bad. Makes an interesting story.” Eden grabbed her bags and hauled them to the stern of the boat, then struggled to crawl down the swim ladder to the dinghy. But the weight of her suitcase set her off balance and she nearly lost her grip on the ladder. An instant later, Marcus grabbed the bag and pulled it back on board.

“Give me my suitcase,” she said. “I want to leave.”

“You don’t have to leave,” he said.

Eden stared up at him for a long moment. In truth, she didn’t want to go for so many reasons. The prospect of facing the public was terrifying to her. The photographers would hound her twenty-four hours a day. People would stare and point and laugh—and then they’d have the nerve to ask her for an autograph or a photo. Eden wasn’t sure she possessed the energy to get through it without falling apart at the seams.

But the prospect of staying with Marcus was even more difficult to bear. He’d look at her differently now. He’d wonder whether what they shared was something she’d shared with other men. He’d question her motives every time she touched him. And in the end, distrust and jealousy would set in and everything good would be ruined.

“Give me my luggage,” she said.

Marcus shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Fine. Then I’ll leave without it. Once I get settled, I’ll send for it.” She jumped off the bottom of the ladder into the dinghy, then sat down in the back of the little fiberglass boat and stared at the outboard. She’d ridden in the dinghy in the past, but someone else had always ferried her back and forth to the ketch.

She reached for the starter cord and gave it a yank, but it snapped back and nearly pulled her shoulder out of joint in the process. She pulled again, but the same thing happened. Tears threatened and Eden swallowed them back. She stood up, prepared to swim back to shore, but his voice stopped her.

“It doesn’t make any difference,” he said.

Eden drew a shaky breath and looked up at him.

“What?”

“What I read in that tabloid. I know that’s not you, Eden. At least not all of it. And maybe the rest is what was you, last week or last month or last year.”

“Three years ago,” she said.

He nodded. “That’s a long time ago.”

“You don’t know me,” she said.

“I realize that. But that could change … if you stayed.”

“Are you asking me to stay because you want to sleep with me?”

Marcus chuckled and shook his head. “Are you under the impression that all men want to sleep with you?”

“No,” she said, a reluctant smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “The gay ones don’t. And probably most of the guys over seventy don’t. But the rest do. They may not admit it, but they would if presented with the opportunity.”

“You have a very high opinion of yourself, don’t you, Princess?” Marcus said, holding out his hand.

Reluctantly she placed her fingers in his outstretched palm. He smiled at her and suddenly her anger and humiliation dissolved. “I prefer to think of it as a good grasp of the reality that is my life.” She stepped back onto the ladder and he helped her into the cockpit.

Eden stood in front of him, her hand still tucked in his, his eyes locked on hers. She felt her knees tremble as he leaned toward her and she knew she was about to be kissed. But all her emotions had been rubbed raw, and if he kissed her, Eden knew it wouldn’t stop there. She wanted more, something to soothe the pain and make her forget. But she and Marcus had formed a friendship of sorts, a trust that went beyond their physical attraction. That’s what she needed to sustain her right now.

She stepped back, tugging her hand from his. “If I’m going to stay, maybe we shouldn’t … you know …”

“What? We shouldn’t swim after eating? Shouldn’t eat mangoes unless they’re ripe? Shouldn’t watch television in the dark?” he prompted teasingly.

“I usually rush into things without thinking,” she said. “And look where it’s gotten me. Maybe we should … take a breath? Slow down a bit?”

He considered her request for a long moment. Eden couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or indifferent. “Well, if that’s the deal, then you’d better start wearing clothes while you’re on board. No more skinny-dipping, no more topless sunbathing, no more transparent little dresses without underwear. And no more morning coffee in the nude.”

“Then you’re all right with slowing things down?” Eden asked.

“It’s not my decision,” he said. “It’s yours.”

She considered his answer for a long moment. Suddenly she didn’t want to slow down. If anything, she wanted him more than she had before he’d gotten all noble and heroic on her. “If I want to sunbathe topless, I certainly can,” Eden said.

“Then don’t expect me to keep my hands to myself,” Marcus warned.

Eden stared at him, trying to keep from smiling. She felt so alive inside when they were at odds, the anticipation of surrender enhanced by antagonism. “You forget that you only work here, Barney. This is my father’s boat and I can do whatever I please. If I want to take off all my clothes right now, I could. And there wouldn’t be anything you could do about it.”

“First, you’re usually wearing next to nothing anyway, so it wouldn’t come as much of a shock. Second, I’ve seen it all before. And finally, if you choose to do this, then be prepared to suffer the consequences.” Marcus grabbed the gallon of varnish he’d brought on board and turned toward the foredeck.

Eden stared after him. The consequences? Somehow she couldn’t quite believe that the consequences would cause any sort of suffering at all. In truth, the consequences of tempting Marcus Quinn would probably be sheer, unadulterated pleasure.

With a sigh, Eden picked up a suitcase and dragged it to the aft companionway. It was only a matter of time. And any thoughts that either one of them had about keeping their relationship platonic were simply the fantasies of two very deluded people.

MARCUS SAT CROSS-LEGGED on the foredeck, his back braced against the side of the cabin, a small slab of teak jammed up against a stanchion. He’d been working on a series of carvings for the cabinetry above the double berth in the master suite—fish and crustaceans and other underwater life. He’d been working on the crab for the past few days and was nearly finished.

A shadow blocked his light, and he glanced up to see Eden standing over him. “That’s nice, Barney,” she said.

“Thanks.” Marcus squinted against the setting sun. “You’re in my light.”

“I thought you might like some dinner. I made a salad and some sandwiches.”

He levered to his feet and brushed the wood shavings from his lap. “Yeah, I could eat.”

Their fight earlier that day had been forgotten and Eden seemed to be much more relaxed. He couldn’t say the same for himself. He found himself aching to touch her again, but then he remembered the agreement.

Hell, it wasn’t an agreement at all. Instead, it had become some sick brand of sadomasochistic torture.

It was as if they’d silently agreed it wouldn’t happen and now they were just prolonging the agony to make it more pleasurable for the both of them when it did. Marcus had spent every hour since she’d come on board thinking about stripping off her clothes and yanking her down on the bed and slowly burying himself inside her. If they didn’t consummate this relationship soon, Marcus was going to be left with no choice but to take matters into his own hands—or hand.

Marcus followed Eden back to the cockpit as he pondered their relationship. It was a word he’d avoided for so long, but there was no other way to describe what they’d been sharing. They did seem to get along—they talked and laughed all the time. And there was an undeniable sexual chemistry between them. He wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting a woman. Didn’t that pretty much define what a relationship was? Sure, it was primarily based on uncontrolled lust, but that wasn’t all bad, was it?

When he stepped into the cockpit, Marcus noticed the table she’d set, this one much less elaborate than the one last night. Candles flickered from little glass cups, and a bottle of wine had been uncorked. Eden pointed to a spot beside her at the table. He sat down and poured himself a glass of wine, then filled her glass, as well.

“Should we make a toast?” he asked.

“And what would we toast?” she asked, sliding into place next to him.

He held up his glass. “To … friendship,” Marcus said.

Eden raised her eyebrow, then shrugged. “All right. To friendship.”

Marcus took a quick taste of the wine, then dug into the salad she’d prepared. He’d never been much for lettuce, but it tasted pretty good, kind of tangy and sweet at the same time. She’d made a ham-and-cheese sandwich with the Italian bread he’d bought, but she’d sliced little dill pickles onto the sandwich, adding a taste that wasn’t all that bad.

She watched him as he ate, slowly sipping her wine and picking at her salad. “It’s good,” he said.

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a useless bimbo who only knows how to shop and party.”

“That’s not what I think of you,” he said.

“I’m an expert at grilled cheese and hot dogs and that’s about it. My mother was gone a lot, so I usually ate supper with Maria, our housekeeper in Malibu. She used to make the best Mexican food.”

“I love Mexican food,” Marcus said.

“Well, I ate it, but I never learned to cook it. Another thing I’m completely mediocre at.”

Marcus grabbed his glass and sat back in his chair. “Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Talk about yourself in such a negative way. I know you’re not useless or a bimbo. And I know there are a lot of things you probably do very well.”

“Do you? I don’t think you really know me at all.”

“Then tell me,” Marcus said, setting his fork down. “I’d like to know more about you.”

She regarded him with a suspicious look. “You want to know about the videotape, don’t you?”

“If that’s where you want to start, then go for it,” Marcus said.

“If I’m going to tell you about the video, then you need to tell me something about yourself first.” “Ask me anything,” Marcus said. “Why do you have an Irish accent?” “I don’t,” Marcus said.

“You do. I noticed it the moment I met you. It’s there, but it’s very faint.”

“I grew up in Ireland,” Marcus explained. “My ma got sick when I was about five years old, and my da sent me and my two brothers to live with my grandmother. We were there for eight years. I had a really thick accent when I got back, but I learned to hide it. Hiding it helped me survive at school.”

After he finished, Marcus drew a deep breath, the detail of his reply surprising him. He’d always been so guarded when talking to women, especially about his childhood. His answers usually consisted of three- or four-word replies. But suddenly, he felt compelled to reveal his life story to Eden. Was it because he wanted her to do the same? Or was it because he’d come to trust her? After all, neither one of them had lived a fairy-tale life as a child. She would understand better than anyone.

“But you are an American,” she said.

“I felt Irish,” Marcus said. “It was all I knew for a long time.” He took another sip of his wine, the alcohol relaxing him. “Now your turn.”

Eden drew a deep breath. “All right. I thought I loved him and I wanted to keep everything between us exciting because there were so many women who wanted him. So I let him turn on the camera. And we watched the tape later and it was exciting and fun. He promised to erase it, but he kept it. A few months ago, after I said some rather unflattering things about him in the press, the tape suddenly reappeared. I think he gave it to a friend who gave it to a guy to put on the Internet.”

“It doesn’t make me think any less of you,” he said, his jaw tight. “But it sure as hell makes me think a lot less of this guy. He deserves a proper smackdown.”

Eden laughed. “And you would do that for me? Defend my honor?”

“Yeah, I would. And I’m good with my fists.”

She reached out and took his hand, weaving her fingers through his. “My hero,” she murmured, pressing her lips to the spot below his wrist.

It was such a simple gesture, unplanned and uncomplicated by any thoughts of seduction. But his reaction was instant and intense. The heat of her lips on his skin felt like a brand, lingering long after she’d drawn away. Marcus swallowed hard and flexed his fingers, wondering why they’d gone numb. But Eden didn’t seem to notice.

“Maybe I should have you negotiate this problem with my father,” she said.

“He’s going to be angry with you.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement of fact.

Eden nodded soberly, then set his hand down on the table. She placed it flat and distractedly began to trace an outline of his splayed fingers. “More than angry. He’s threatened to disown me before, and this will probably push him over the edge. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have cared, but lately my father and I have actually started to get along.”

“How long do you plan to hide out here?”

“A few years maybe,” she said, sending him a smile. “It’s not like I committed murder. I had sex and we videotaped it. People have sex all the time. It’s a very natural thing.”

The desire between the two of them had seemed perfectly natural, Marcus mused. But for some reason he didn’t like thinking about Eden in bed with other men, especially smarmy Eurotrash playboys intent on betraying her. “Right,” he said.

“You don’t agree?”

“I thought we weren’t going to go there,” Marcus said.

“Talking about sex isn’t having sex,” Eden said.

“It is for me,” Marcus replied. “You’ve already cost me a thousand dollars. Maybe two thousand, depending on how my brothers are interpreting the rules.”

Eden picked up her wineglass and slowly ran her finger around the rim. “Explain, please.”

“We made a bet, Ian and Dec and me. To be completely celibate for three months. I lasted just over two weeks.”

Eden’s eyes went wide and she laughed. “But we didn’t … have sex. We had foreplay. That doesn’t count.”

“It all counts,” Marcus replied. “I’ve already lost the original thousand I put in just by touching you. And I may have to put up another thousand if my brothers don’t go easy on me.” Marcus sighed. “I’m thinking maybe I just won’t tell my brothers. They’d never need to know.”

“It’s not like there’s a videotape,” Eden teased.

Marcus chuckled softly. At least she had a sense of humor about it. “No, thank God for that.”

Eden slowly set her wineglass down and got to her feet. His gaze skimmed over her slender body, the thin cotton of her tank top clinging to the curves of her breasts, the flowing fabric of her skirt revealing long, tanned legs. Her skin had a rosy glow from the sun, and as she stepped closer he felt the heat from her body.

“So the only thing standing between us and a fabulous night in bed is a couple thousand dollars?”

Marcus stared up at her, his fingers twitching with the need to touch her. “I don’t have that kind of money right now.”

She tipped her head to the side and gave him a naughty smile. “Do you take American Express or would you prefer a check?”

“I thought we weren’t going to do this,” Marcus murmured.

“I find the idea of buying your body intriguing.” Eden reached out and slipped her fingers through his hair, smoothing the strands away from his temples. Gently she turned him in his chair, then straddled him, her hair falling in soft waves around his face.

“You think you can have your way with me?” Marcus whispered, pulling her close enough to kiss.

“Maybe we shouldn’t ignore our desires. Maybe it’s best to just act on them.”

Marcus groaned inwardly. She had no idea what it was costing him to resist. The past few days had been sheer torture, and a night in bed alone would be enough to turn him into a sex-starved maniac. But there was still something holding him back, some instinct that told him that sex with Eden would not be simple.

Though Eden played the uninhibited temptress, Marcus had come to know the girl she really was— scared, lost, vulnerable and distrustful of men. If he crawled into her bed now, she’d probably find some excuse to discard him within the week.

“Princess, how long are we going to play this game?”

She frowned. “What game?”

He reached up and cupped her cheek in his palm, forcing her gaze to meet his. “Dragging me off to bed isn’t going to solve any of your problems. You should call your father and tell him you’re here,” he said.

He felt her stiffen in his arms and she quickly twisted out of his grasp. Marcus watched her walk to the stern and climb up on the top of the aft cabin, her attention focused on the sunset. “He’s probably already written me off,” she shouted, her voice breaking.

Marcus’s heart softened as he watched her facade crumble before his eyes. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“You don’t know my father,” she said, spinning around to face him, tears swimming in her eyes. Marcus had never really understood women, not deep down. But, oddly, he seemed to understand Eden. Right now, all she really wanted was a warm body, a distraction from her troubles. If he weren’t here, there’d be someone else willing to provide comfort and a little affection.

Marcus stood and crossed the cockpit. When he reached the aft cabin, he held out his hand. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s finish dinner. After that, I’ll take you for a ride in the dinghy. There’s a cove just over there I want to explore.”

She gnawed on her lower lip, then finally nodded her head. Eden bent down, and Marcus grabbed her around the waist and lowered her back into the cockpit. Her body brushed against his, and when she stood toe to toe with him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly.

“I like you, Marcus Quinn,” she said, smiling sweetly. “You’re a nice guy. I haven’t known many truly nice guys.”

God, she was beautiful, Marcus mused as he smoothed his hand over her cheek. He couldn’t take his eyes off her face. He leaned forward and brushed another kiss across her lips, his only intent to keep her in his arms a bit longer.

Her lips parted and his gazed fixed on her mouth. The craving was acute. Just one more taste and he’d be satisfied. Marcus kissed her again, this time allowing himself to linger a bit longer.

Eden moaned softly, a silent invitation for him to take more. He furrowed his fingers through her sun-kissed hair and molded her mouth to his, enjoying the sweet taste of her tongue as he deepened the kiss.

His heart slammed in his chest and desire snaked through his veins. Marcus wanted to strip the clothes from her body, to possess her with his hands, to make her cry out as he had last night. This dance they were doing, advance and retreat and advance again, was more than he was prepared to handle.

Their kiss grew more intense with every heartbeat, Marcus pulling her tight against his body. She fit perfectly, and when he pulled her leg up against his thigh, her skirt fell away and he found her naked beneath. It would be so simple to drag her down beside him, to slide his shorts down and bury himself inside her.

He was already hard and ready, and every time she wriggled against him, he felt himself flirting with a complete loss of control. She reached down and stroked his erection through the fabric of his shorts, but Marcus gently grabbed her hand and placed it on his chest.

He brushed the hair from her eyes, his gaze meeting hers. “Why don’t you put on some warmer clothes?” he whispered. “It’s going to get chilly once the sun goes down.” It wasn’t what he’d wanted to say, but for now it was the right thing to do. Eden needed time and space, not another guy looking to drag her off to bed.

When he made love to her, it wasn’t going to be an impulse. It would be slow and deliberate and as close to perfect as Marcus could make it. And no matter what happened in the future, she wouldn’t need a videotape to remember her night in bed with him.

THE DRIFTWOOD CRACKLED and popped in the fire, sending sparks whirling into the night air. Marcus bent down and tossed another piece of wood into the flames, then returned to sit on the blanket with Eden. She glanced over at him, watching the play of light on his handsome face.

When she’d jumped a flight back to the States, she’d made a silent promise to herself: no more whirlwind love affairs. She’d learn to control her penchant for instant infatuation and take her time. Yet, even though she’d broken her vow just days after she made it, Eden couldn’t make herself believe an affair with Marcus would be wrong.

“I always thought that in order to have fun, I had to be entertained,” she said. “I’d go out to clubs and parties, and most nights I’d leave bored to tears. And all we have here is the stars and a fire and it’s wonderful.”