At Her Pleasure. Cindi Myers

a moment she walked out onto the deck. He followed, his eyes focused on the straight line of her spine, the soft curve of her hips, the gentle swaying of the silken fabric falling over her buttocks.

      She stopped at the rail and stood looking out into the darkness. He could hear the slap of waves against the side of the yacht and the insistent, high-pitched peeps of tree frogs in the jungle behind them.

      “What do you think of Passionata’s theories?” she asked after a moment.

      “Her theories?”

      “Yes. Her belief that male/female relationships work out best if the woman is in charge.”

      “It was certainly an unusual idea for its time.” He stood next to her, his back to the ocean, watching her. Though much of her face was in shadow, he could make out the soft curve of her cheek, the half smile on her lips. The breeze stirred tendrils of her dark hair and brought the smell of her perfume to him, exotic and floral. “It’s still an unusual idea.”

      “But do you think it’s a good one?”

      “Why does anyone have to be in charge of a relationship?” he asked.

      She faced him, moving closer, so that the skirt of her dress brushed against his legs, a teasing caress. “If you had been a man of that time,” she said, “if you had been William D., would you have allowed her to seduce you?”

      He had a sharp memory of the scenes in Passionata’s book where she toyed with the captured sailor, and arousal lanced through him. But just because the idea of an act or situation turned him on didn’t mean it was what he really wanted. “I don’t think that’s a question I can answer,” he said. “I’m a man of today.”

      She turned away. “Oh, yes, the rugged individualist who comes to the island by himself, risk be damned,” she said.

      “Do you think I’m a crazy fool?”

      She looked at him once more, eyes boring into him. “What if I said I intended to seduce you?” she asked. “Would you see it as a threat…or a fantasy?”

      Maybe both. But his heart beat faster at her words. “What are you getting at?” he asked.

      “Come with me.” She took his hand and led him to the ladder at the side of the ship. “Let’s go for a walk on the beach.”

      Maybe she wanted to get further away from Adam to do her seducing, he speculated, as he followed her down the ladder and onto the dinghy. When they reached the beach he kicked off his sandals and buried his toes in the cool sand. Protected by the reef and uninhabited for years, Passionata’s Island offered a beach free of litter, broken glass and other man-made hazards.

      Nicole took his hand and led him to a hammock strung between two palm trees. “Lie down,” she commanded and pushed him back into the hammock.

      He did as she asked, expecting her to lie beside him. But instead, she crawled on top of him, and straddled his stomach. Her thighs clenched him tightly, and he could feel the heat of her sex through the thin cotton of his shirt.

      She planted her palms on his chest and stared down at him, her expression serious. “Yes or no?” she said. “Do you want to be seduced?”

      If he said no, would she leave? And what would he have gained by this defense of his dignity? He thought of Passionata and William D., and the passages the long-ago London censors had labeled obscenity.