Promise of Paradise Read online

  “What bit him?” she asked. “He’s usually so friendly.”

  Jessica laughed shortly. “I’m not sure, but I think I might have put a slight dent in his ego.”

  “Ah,” Millie said with a knowing grin. “Like that, is it? Funny, I thought he’d be just your type.”

  “Maybe that’s the trouble.”

  Millie continued to stare at her, as though waiting for more, putting Jessica in somewhat of a quandary. She didn’t want to say anything to Millie about Luke, but didn’t want to hurt her feelings either.

  Just then another customer appeared at the desk to pay his check, and Jessica turned to him with relief.

  Luke called her at home that evening to tell her he had to go out of town for a few days.

  “In fact,” he went on, “I’m at the airport now waiting for my flight.”

  “Where are you off to this time?” she asked, hiding her disappointment.

  “Not far. Just Los Angeles.”

  “Well, I’ll miss you.”

  “Will you really?” He paused for a moment. “Well, then, in that case,” he went on, lowering his voice, “I’d better tell you that I’ve turned down two or three jobs in the past few weeks just so I could be with you. In fact, the only reason I’m going now is because it has to do with a job I’d already begun and really have to finish it up myself.”

  Jessica’s heart soared. Was that the sign she’d been waiting for? Surely it must have cost him a lot to tell her that. And to actually refuse jobs for her sake was almost unthinkable. She knew how much his work meant to him.

  “They’re calling my flight now,” he said hurriedly. “I have to go. See you in a few days.”

  “Yes,” she replied happily. “A few days.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  WHILE Luke was away, the flowers kept coming every few days, and he called her almost every night to tell her how the work was going. Although she was kept busy with her own job and keeping up her apartment, which was now beginning to look like a real home, she missed him more than she ever dreamed she would.

  In just the few months she’d known him, he’d become such an important part of her life that his absence from it created an enormous gap.

  Then, on her next day off, late in the afternoon, she was just coming out her front door on the way to the Laundromat, when she suddenly came face-to-face with him, just coming up the steps toward her. She stopped short and stared.

  “Luke!” she cried. “When did you get back?”

  Smiling broadly, he reached out to take the laundry sack from her. “About five minutes ago,” he said. “Let’s go have some dinner, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  A rush of pure joy bubbled up within her. “All right,” she said happily, falling into step beside him. “But it’s only six o’clock. A little early for dinner.”

  He waved a hand in the air. “Whatever. We can decide that later.” He put an arm around her and pulled her to him. “Come on. Let’s get in the car.”

  She was so glad to see him that she would have agreed to go to Mars with him. She got inside the car and waited, her heart singing, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, while he slung her laundry bag in the back seat.

  Then he settled himself beside her and put a hand on her face. “I missed you, Jessica,” he said softly.

  As their eyes met and locked together, she felt as though she were drowning in those deep green pools. The hand moved to the back of her neck, and he leaned toward her, brushing his mouth gently against hers.

  “Ah, that’s better,” he murmured. “I missed that, too. Now,” he said, pulling away from her reluctantly and starting the engine. “How does the Paradise sound for dinner?”

  “It sounds great.”

  On the drive she sat close beside him, their thighs just touching, basking in the warmth of his body so close to hers and content just to listen to the sound of his voice as he filled in the details of the job he’d just finished. Jessica felt so relaxed and carefree, for the first time in months.

  In fact it was so pleasant to be driving along in the sleek car, the top down, the soft breeze blowing in her face that she didn’t realize for some time that they were well on their way out of town, heading east, in the opposite direction from the motel.

  “This isn’t the way to the Paradise,” she said.

  “We’re not going to the Paradise.”

  “Oh?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet, anyway. Some friends of mine have moved to Europe, and their lease hasn’t run out. I’m staying at their beach house. I thought we might go for a swim before dinner.”

  “Well, yes, but...”

  “But me no buts,” he said sternly. “I’m staying there, and while I am, the beach is my property.”

  She wasn’t sure she quite liked the way he’d simply made the decision without consulting her, then gone ahead with it without even telling her. But she was too happy just to be with him to make an issue of it.

  Soon he pulled up into the curved driveway of a small pink stucco house with a red tile roof. He switched off the engine, then stretched one arm across the back of her headrest and turned to her. “You’re awfully quiet,” he said in a tone of concern. “Is something bothering you?”

  “Not really,” she replied, running a hand through her hair to straighten it out where the wind had ruffled it. “I just find it a little unsettling when you make plans that involve me without asking me how I feel about it”

  “I see.” He paused for a moment, as thought thinking it over, then cocked an eyebrow at her and gave her a smug look. “Not quite what you’re used to in your usual circle, is it?”

  “No,” she snapped, knowing he was baiting her. “As a matter of fact, it isn’t. It’s what’s known as common courtesy, and has nothing to do with money or social position.”

  He reared his head back slightly, frowning, then gave her a slow smile. “Ah,” he murmured. “I see the lady has claws after all.”

  “When it’s necessary,” she replied coolly.

  “All right,” he admitted grudgingly. “You have a point. I’ll try to remember that in the future. Now, shall we go for that swim? Or,” he added hastily, “would you rather have dinner now?”

  She stifled a laugh. “Oh, as long as we’re here, we might as well stay. But thanks for asking, anyway.”

  The self-satisfied smirk that now appeared on his face was just like that of a schoolboy who had been patted on the head by the teacher and told he was a good lad. She didn’t dare laugh at him, but that small concession went a long way to compensate for his earlier brashness.

  “There’s only one problem,” she said. “I don’t have a suit.”

  “Oh, that’s no problem,” he said, opening his door. “I’m sure Sandra has drawers full of them.”

  ‘Sandra?’ she asked, stunned.

  He turned back to her. “Yes, didn’t I tell you? She’s gone off to join her husband in Brussels. He’s in the diplomatic service.”

  “I see,” she said in a tight voice. “I’m sure you’ll miss her.”

  He darted her a look. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, you have been rather—close—while her husband was away.”

  “Listen, I told you once Sandra and I were just friends. At one time we may have been a little more than that, but I have an ironclad rule about married women. Do you find that so hard to believe?”

  She searched his face. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “It’s not any of my business anyway.”

  “Oh, but it is,” he replied, his hard look softening. “What you think is important to me. Now, shall we go?”

  He got out and stretched widely. Watching him, the muscles of his shoulders and chest rippling under the thin white shirt, the waistband of the dark trousers settling lower on his slim hips, a sudden jolt of electricity went shooting through her, a sensation she identified immediately as burgeoning desire.

  Quickly damping it down, she averted her eye
s and climbed out onto the pavement. He came around to join her, casually taking her by the hand and twining his fingers through hers, and they set off for the wide veranda in front of the house.

  Inside the cool, dim house, he hesitated for a fraction of a second then turned to her. “You can change in my room. It even has its own private bath.”

  Instantly alert, she smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “What’s wrong?” he drawled. “Afraid I might attack you?”

  “Not at all. I just don’t think it would be a very good idea. It’s a big house. There must be somewhere else I can change.”

  “Sorry, there’s only the one bedroom. It does have its own bath, however.” He leaned back against the door, folded his arms across his chest and gave her a lopsided grin. “What’s the matter, Jessica? Still afraid of me? Or perhaps yourself?”

  Suddenly the pleasure she’d felt at seeing him started to evaporate. She knew quite well what his game was. He’d warned her he’d keep trying, and was obviously prepared to use every trick in the book to get his way.

  Damping down her irritation before it could show, she gave him a thoughtful look. “That’s an interesting theory,” she said calmly. “Did you dream it up all by yourself, or have you been reading Freud?”

  “Oh, it’s all my own idea,” he replied with a wicked grin.

  “You know, Luke,” she said brusquely. “I think maybe we’d just better forget about the swim altogether.”

  His face fell instantly. “No,” he said, reaching quickly for the door handle. “Let’s not. I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to resist trying to ruffle those sedate feathers of yours.” He thought a moment. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll wait outside while you change, and you can lock the door.”

  All of a sudden the whole discussion began to seem pointless, even childish, to her. She also had to admit that there was a grain of truth in his comment about the real source of her fears. There was certainly no danger he would ever force himself on any woman. And she really would enjoy a swim.

  “That won’t be necessary,” she said crisply. “Since it seems to be important to you, I guess there’s no reason why I can’t change in your bathroom. And I assume it has a lock,” she added, giving him a bright smile as she reached inside the laundry bag to retrieve her suit.

  His room was pretty much as she’d expected, neat and clean, without a trace of the man’s personal life, the bed recently made, fresh towels in the bathroom, where she went to change. On the small counter she did notice a leather shaving kit. It was unzipped, and after locking the door securely behind her, she couldn’t resist a peek inside.

  There was a shaving brush, a safety razor, shaving soap in a tube. No cologne or after-shave of any kind, and she wondered where the particular masculine scent she associated with Luke came from. It must be the soap, she decided, and somehow that pleased her.

  After changing into her suit, a bikini, but a very modest one, she surveyed her reflection in the mirror. It was nothing compared to the far more revealing outfits most women sported on the beach these days, but it was a bikini, and did reveal a lot of bare flesh. Luckily her breasts were on the small side, firm and high, so that at least there was no embarrassing cleavage to worry about.

  However, before going out to face him, she reached for one of the fresh bath towels hanging on the rack beside the sink and draped it around her shoulders. It was large enough to cover her nicely down to mid-thigh, and she’d leave it on until she was ready to go in the water.

  She rapped lightly on the door. “Are you decent out there?” she called.

  “Yes. Come on out.”

  If he’d been expecting a half-nude revelation, he was doomed to disappointment, but as his eyes flicked her up and down, there was no sign of it. In fact, the moment she set eyes on him, every trace of nervousness about her own attire fled from her mind.

  By any standards the dark bathing trunks he had on were quite conservative, but still, they were all he had on, and the sight was decidedly unsettling. Stripped, he looked even bigger and taller than he did with clothes on, his legs longer, his shoulders broader, his chest wider. He was tautly-muscled, with a flat abdomen, and his chest was smooth, with only a light sprinkling of dark hair running down the middle and disappearing under the trunks.

  “I’ll just get a towel, then we’ll be off,” he said, moving past her into the bathroom.

  They went through a small living room, also very tidy, onto a paved lanai, then down a short path to the sandy shore. It was still quite warm, the sun shining brightly in a clear blue sky.

  Luke paused for a moment, then veered off to the right, heading toward the shade of a nearby palm grove that lined the shore.

  He spread his towel out on the sand and turned to her. “Well, how about it? Shall we give the water a try?”

  She removed her towel from around her shoulders, laid it down a few feet away from his, then turned around to face him. “Race you to the water,” she called, and sped swiftly past him.

  He was close on her heels, and by the time she plunged into the surf, a clean clear deep blue-green and warm as bathwater, he’d overtaken her. They struck out together toward a buoy some fifty feet from the shore.

  They stayed in the water for an hour or so, until she began to get tired. She turned around and started to swim slowly toward the shore, and in a moment, he came up beside her.

  “Had enough?” he called.

  “I think so.”

  “Go ahead, then. Think I’ll stay out for a while longer if you don’t mind.”

  She nodded and kept swimming slowly toward the shore. He was like a fish in the water, seemingly inexhaustible, but by the time she reached the beach, she was utterly exhausted, drained of energy, her breath coming in deep gasps. It had been a long time since she’d had that much physical exercise.

  She scrunched her way wearily across the fine white sand toward the palm trees, then still out of breath, flopped down on her stomach and closed her eyes.

  When she opened them again, it was to a strange half-light. She sat up, blinking, and looked around dazedly. The sun had set. Dusk was falling, and a pale crescent moon had risen in the darkening sky. She must have fallen asleep.

  Then her eye fell on Luke. He was stretched out beside her, his head resting against the trunk of a tree, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes closed. His dark hair, still a little damp, hung loosely over his forehead, and the long black eyelashes any woman would envy rested on the high cheekbones.

  She sat there staring at him in the growing dimness, his face cast in shadows now, mesmerized by the sight. It was as though they were all alone in the entire universe, with the surf lapping gently in the background, the palm trees swaying high above in the soft evening breeze.

  Then, suddenly, his eyes opened and met hers, holding her spellbound. She couldn’t for the life of her look away. They sat there, immobile, eyes locked together, for what seemed like an eternity, until slowly he reached out a hand and laid it on her bare arm, stroking gently.

  “Jessica,” he said at last in a low voice. “Jess.”

  The hand on her arm tightened, pulling her toward him. At the same time he inched his body forward, and the next thing she knew his arms had come around her.

  Just then, from the private beach next door, the sound of voices broke the stillness, a mother shouting, children’s high-pitched voices raised in laughter, and Jessica came abruptly to her senses. She broke out of his embrace, flustered, reached hurriedly for her towel and draped it around her shoulders.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she heard him explode behind her.

  “Not a thing,” she replied equably, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremor in her voice. She turned around to face him. “I’m just not interested in that kind of thing. You should know that by now.”

  He had risen to his feet and was standing looming over her now, glaring down at her, his knuckles resting on his lean hips, his face livid.
“You’re lying,” he ground out between his teeth. “Either that or you’re a damned good actress.”

  She got up and faced him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied calmly. “Or is that another one of your Freudian theories?”

  “Not at all,” he said. Then suddenly he cocked his head to one side and gave her a knowing smile. “Don’t forget, I’ve seen the fire beneath the surface.”

  She smiled coolly. “I think it’s time to leave,” she said shortly, and started to move past him.

  But she didn’t get far. An arm shot out, barring her way, and a large hand gripped her shoulder. A thrill of real fear ran through her and she turned to raise her face to his.

  “Stop that, Luke,” she said. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Good!” he exclaimed, forcing her around to face him, both hands digging into her shoulders now.

  For a long moment he simply stood there gazing down at her, green eyes glittering. Then suddenly he made a noise of disgust deep in his throat and dropped his hands from her.

  “If you’re really as cold and sexless as you try to make out,” he said, “then maybe all those stories I heard about you were true after all.”

  She stood there staring at him, stunned. “What stories?” she asked at last in a tight voice.

  He shrugged. “Oh, you know. How you shut Paul out of your bed once you were married. How you were more interested in your precious social life and spending his money than you ever were in him.”

  She could hardly believe her ears. So that was the reason for the hostility toward her she’d seen in him when they’d first met! He blamed her for Paul’s wild ways, his infidelities.

  “And you believed them?” she asked, still staring up at him.

  “Yes, I did. Then after getting to know you, I thought maybe they were lies, or at the least highly exaggerated. But the way you’ve run hot and cold with me makes me wonder if they weren’t true after all. I mean, you can’t really blame a man for finding his comfort elsewhere when his own wife is an iceberg.”