The One-Night Wife

"You just said, she played you. What has that to do with me?"

"Give me a break, Beaumont. She played for you."

Beads of sweat popped on Beaumont's forehead. "So what? She paid her debt."

"She didn't."

"What do you mean, she didn't? You won her for the night."

"Yeah, and I didn't collect."

Beaumont shot a look at Savannah. "What does he mean?"

"Nothing. Of course he collected, Alain. It's just—it's just that he wants more. Isn't that right, Mr. O'Connell?"

She turned away from Beaumont and stared at Sean. Her eyes, even her body language, implored him to go along with her lie. But why would he? He owed this woman noth­ing.

"Please," she mouthed silently.

"Yeah," Sean growled, mentally cursing himself for be­ing a fool, "that's right. So I'm going to let you make up for it, Beaumont. I want a million bucks."

Beaumont turned whiter than he already was. "Why would I give you a million dollars?"

"Lots of reasons, starting with the fact that you wouldn't want me to spread the word that you're not only a liar, you're a man who sends a woman to seek a revenge he's too cowardly to attempt himself." Sean's smile had a savage edge. "Then there's the little matter of the lies you've spread about me. I've heard the rumors. You said I cheated you last summer when the truth is that you couldn't admit you'd lost."

"Alain?" Savannah whispered. "Is that true?"

"Your lover boy wouldn't know the truth if it bit him in the butt." Sean tightened his grip on Beaumont. "A million bucks, and I'm out of here."

"Even if I wanted to give you that much, I couldn't. Ahh! You're breaking my wrist, O'Connell. Let go!"

"Let him go. Please."

Sean flashed a look at Savannah. She looked desperate. Was there a heart somewhere inside her, and if so, did she really feel something for this pig?

The possibility made Sean's jaw clench. What in hell did it matter to him? Savannah McRae could have the hots for King Kong for all he gave a damn. Still, he was tired of listening to Beaumont whimper. Abruptly, he let go of the man's pudgy hand.

"Get up."

Beaumont dragged himself to his feet as if he were dying and cupped his hand against his chest.

"You're almost as good an actor as your lady friend."

"I think you broke a bone."

"No such luck. Come on, Beaumont. I know your safe is in the salon. Take me to it, get me what you owe me and I'm gone."

"I don't have that much money here. If you wait until Monday..."

Sean laughed. Beaumont swallowed hard.

"My marker is good everywhere."

"Maybe, but not with me. I want cash."

Braver now that Sean had let him get to his feet, Beau­mont's mouth thinned. "I could charge you with theft."

"No, you couldn't." Sean jerked his chin at Savannah. "I have a witness who'll say otherwise."

"She'll say what I tell her to say. Won't you, cherieT' Savannah didn't answer. Beaumont narrowed his eyes. "Won't you?" he said in a menacing whisper.

He raised his hand. Sean moved quickly, grabbed him and threw him against the wall.

"Don't touch her," he growled.

"She's mine. I created her and I'll do whatever I like to her."

A soft cry burst from Savannah's throat. Sean watched as she buried her face in her hands. Her hair, loose as it had been that night, tumbled around her face...but it wasn't as it had been that night. Not really. Then, it had been combed into artful disorder. Now, it hung in curls that were wild and real.

Everything about her was different from the last time. She wore no makeup, no jewels. No do-me heels and sexy dress. Instead, she had on a baggy sweatshirt, faded, loose jeans and sneakers.

She looked vulnerable. Beautiful. Sweet and innocent, the kind of woman a man would give his soul to possess.

The kind a man could take home to his mother.

Sean blinked. Beaumont chuckled. "Ahhh," he breathed.

Sean's eyes flashed to his face. Beaumont had gone from looking as if the world were about to end to smiling, if you wanted to call the smirk on his fleshy lips a smile.

"Ah, what? Did you just remember that you have enough money in your safe?"

"No, Mr. O'Connell. I just thought of what I can offer you to satisfy your demand."

"I'm not in the market for a yacht, Beaumont."

"How about a woman? Are you in the market for that?"

"No!" Savannah shook her head wildly. "Alain. You can't. I won't. I swear, if you try to do this, I'll—"

"This woman owes me five hundred thousand dollars. And you just said you came here because you want more of her. Well, you can have her," Beaumont said, jerking his chin at Savannah. "For... Let's see. A week?"

' 'Alain. Please, Alain..."

"Not enough? How about two weeks?" A smile crawled across his mouth. "Surely you can think of something to do with a woman like Savannah for fourteen days and nights."

Sean saw a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye, and then Savannah was on Beaumont, clawing at him while he staggered and tried to protect his face.

"I'll kill you," she panted. "I swear, I'll—"

Sean grabbed her, pulled her back against him and pinned her in place with an arm wrapped tightly around her waist. His hand lay just under her breast; he could feel her heart beating against his palm.

Once, decades before, he'd felt a heart beating that same way.

He'd been eight, maybe nine; he'd been in big trouble at home for playing hooky and had gone to a hidey-hole he knew in a lot behind the Desert Song. That day, his hiding place already had an occupant. A tiny songbird lay on its back, beak open as it panted for breath.

He knew

something terrible had happened to the bird and he wanted to help it, but he couldn't. All he could do was cradle it in his hand and feel the terrified gallop of its heart.

"Well, O'Connell? Yes or no?"

To hell with that long-ago wounded bird. He had an op­portunity here that could solve his problem.

"The woman," Sean said. "For two weeks."

"No," Savannah moaned, but Beaumont nodded his head and the deal was done.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Savannah didn't go quietly.

She shrieked, raged, yelled that she wasn't property, but Sean encircled her wrist with a hand that felt like a manacle and propelled her up the ladder to the deck.

"Move," he said through clenched teeth, "or I'll toss you over my shoulder and carry you off this damned boat."

Had she really felt her heart lift with hope when she first saw O'Connell in the doorway? She was a fool to have expected anything good from a man with his morals. So what if he'd won her that night and not taken her to bed? That wasn't enough to mark him as her savior. Whatever the reason he hadn't demanded full payment, he was going to demand it now.

He could demand what he liked, but she'd be damned if he'd get it without a fight.

Savannah slammed her elbow into his belly. He grunted at the force of the blow.

"You stupid son of a bitch," she panted. "Do you really think you can get away with this? Let go or I'll report you to the police."

"You'd have to get past your boyfriend first." Sean dragged her to where a ladder led down to the tender. "Somehow, I don't think he'd let that happen. Besides, what would you tell the cops?" She balked when they reached the ladder and he pushed her forward. "I can get fifty witnesses to tell them how you handed yourself over to me a couple of weeks ago at the casino."

"That has nothing to do with what you're doing now."

"Sure it does. We're just picking up where we left off. Get down that ladder."

"I won't!"

Savannah jammed her feet against the teak deck coaming. Sean cursed and slung her over his shoulder, just as he'd threatened. She roared with frustration and pounded her fists against his back. The ladder swayed precariously under his feet.

"You want to go for a swim, babe? Keep that up and, so help me, I'll dump you in the drink."