They fell into a smooth rhythm, each of his downward strokes met by an upward thrust of her hips. Their bodies moved in harmony as if they had made love many times rather than it being their first time together. The pace increased, consuming each of them in the incendiary atmosphere of hot sex combined with an as yet undefined emotional thread weaving its way through every facet of the moment.
The waves of ecstasy again claimed Lexi. She wrapped her legs and arms tightly around his body as the contractions clenched inside her followed by the convulsive surges.
Gable gave one last deep plunge. He held her tightly, relishing the hard spasms shuddering through his body. He had never felt more complete than he did at that precise moment. Years of pursuing his personal goal had prevented him from trying to find the one woman who would make his life whole. Had fate intervened by bringing his perfect match to him? How could he juggle the elements of his life so that he could have it all? Was that asking too much? He didn’t know the answers and he didn’t know what to do. The only thing he did know was that he didn’t want to let go of her. He wanted her in his bed and even more important…in his life.
What to do? Somehow he had to make everything work out. But for tonight, all his attention and thoughts would be centered on Lexi. He held her tightly, neither of them saying anything. He forced his breathing into a normal mode, taking a moment every few seconds to place a tender kiss on her cheek or forehead. He wanted to wake in the morning exactly as he hoped to fall asleep…with her in his arms.
But in the interim, renewed stirrings of arousal grabbed his attention.
****
The morning sun streamed in the windows of Lexi’s bedroom. She had been awake for about half an hour, but hadn’t made any attempt to get out of bed. In spite of the time she and Gable had spent in his hot tub after making love for the second time, her muscles still ached from her tumble into the ravine. She closed her eyes and allowed the inviting sensations of their love making to wash over her. Never had she encountered a man who so completely satisfied her the way he did. He was everything she hoped he would be. And more.
Gable had asked her to stay, to spend the night. And for herself, there was nothing she wanted more at that moment than to wake the next morning in his bed and in his arms. But, as she explained to him, it was not a practical idea. With security people in the house, along with Hank and Dolly making an early morning appearance, it wouldn’t do for them to see that she had spent the night in his bedroom. He countered with the argument that it was none of their business. It wasn’t like he and Lexi were employer and employee or some other extenuating circumstance. But he reluctantly acquiesced to her point of view saying he didn’t want to compromise her reputation.
For her part, that decision was based more on fear than propriety. Certainly not any type of physical fear due to Gable’s mysterious background, but rather an emotional fear. If she stayed the night, she would never want to leave. Her thoughts and feelings confused her. Everything seemed to be happening way too fast. It had been a straight forward research assignment, albeit different from her usual assignments. It all sounded so clear cut when she had agreed to go to Skull Island—talk to the owner of the island, find out about his plans for the luxury resort, take pictures, look into the local speculation and gossip about the disappearances.
Then she shook hands with Gable Talbot on the dock and nothing after that moment could be considered simple and straight forward.
Most disturbing of all was her bizarre vision that had become reality in a dramatic and frightening manner. Regardless of what anyone else thought or said, she believed the skeletons were linked to the disappearances. But with three people missing, she wasn’t sure exactly which two of them had been buried there. Even though the possibility seemed remote, the skeletons could even have been Winthrop and Jack Stinson leaving the whereabouts of Evelyn a mystery. Not for a moment did she believe Gable’s comment about an ancient Native American burial ground. And she knew Gable didn’t believe it, either. But again, why would he put forth the deception?
She finally forced her way out of bed and stood in the hot shower until the water soothed her aching muscles. Her bruising wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. After dressing, she walked a couple of doors down the hall to the kitchenette area where she helped herself to coffee, juice, and some fresh pastry Dolly had set out. She had a project for that morning and didn’t want to take the time to go to the kitchen and have a full breakfast.
Her brow wrinkled into an involuntary frown as a thought occurred to her. Would Gable think she was purposely avoiding him? That she was upset or angry? She shook her head to clear the troubling thought. She would need to explain it later, but right now she had some computer work to do that would take a while and she needed to get started.
Her priorities had shifted from the research she had been hired to do. Her curiosity had her more fascinated with researching about J.D. Prescott rather than doing research for him. However, not as fascinated as she was with finding out everything she could about Gable Talbot.
Shortly before traveling to Skull Island, she had uncovered a candid snapshot on the internet purported to be the reclusive J.D. Prescott taken five years ago on the city streets of Manhattan. It was a little blurry and he was one face among several. She set about cropping out everything except his head, enlarging that portion of the picture, then cleaning it up and sharpening the image. The end result showed a portrait taken five years ago of a man she believed to be J.D. Prescott. Somewhere in the back of her mind a nagging tickle tried to get her attention, something vaguely familiar about the face, but she couldn’t get it to jell.
She had also procured old photographs of Winthrop and Evelyn Hollingsworth and one of Jack Stinson taken the week of the infamous party and had scanned them into her computer before leaving home. She threw herself into the task of aging the images to show what they would look like today, thirty years later. After a few hours she had the pictures of the three missing people aged to what they would probably look like today. She felt her eyes widen as the cold chill spread through her body followed by a tremor of anxiety, then a wave of very real panic.
No wonder the photograph of J.D. Prescott seemed somehow familiar. It may have been Winthrop Hollingsworth’s computer aged image she stared at on the screen, but it was the enhanced picture of J.D. Prescott that stared back at her. Truth or nothing more than a colossal coincidence? Could she believe her eyes? Apprehension and elation…a very strange combination…jittered through her until it formed a twisted knot in the pit of her stomach. Could J.D. Prescott really be the long missing Winthrop Hollingsworth? A preposterous notion, but the idea refused to go away. After all these years could Winthrop Hollingsworth still be alive? If so, then he certainly couldn’t be one of the skeletons.
She pulled up the manipulated image of Jack Stinson on her computer and studied it. A moment later the certainty popped into her mind. The image from her vision. The face that had progressively evolved into sharper focus each time the vision assaulted her. It exactly matched the picture on the screen. A message from the grave? Jack Stinson trying to contact her? Trying to tell her where his body had been buried? A cold shiver quickly spread across her skin. Her psychic ability had never presented itself to her in such a dramatic manner.
A thousand thoughts and possibilities crashed into each other as they bounced around inside her mind. She had to take things in order, deal with what she could in the best way possible. Was one of the skeletons really Jack Stinson? And her vision, why would it be of a man thirty years older than when he disappeared? If the vision was really Jack Stinson, then shouldn’t he look the way he did then? If…well, that would have to wait until the sheriff’s lab made the official identification. But for now…
She quickly logged on to the internet and began an in depth search for anything on J.D. Prescott. After a couple of hours of intense work she had not been able to discover one item about him older than thirty years. No record of h
is birth. No school records. No voter registration. No property ownership. Nothing to indicate the man ever existed before appearing on the scene thirty years ago. Yet the photograph taken five years ago showed a man approximately sixty-years-old which would put him at sixty-five now. That fit in perfectly. Winthrop was thirty-five when he disappeared thirty years ago. The trepidation calmed a little as her racing heart returned to normal.
A computer enhanced photograph of a man believed to be J.D. Prescott and a computer aged photograph of Winthrop Hollingsworth showing them to probably be the same person. A computer aged photograph of Jack Stinson matching the bizarre vision that had assaulted her senses on several occasions since being on Skull Island. But how did all of this fit together?
And how did that relate to Gable? J.D. Prescott and Gable Talbot. Two men with no past yet somehow entwined in the same mystery if for no other reason than their shared association with Skull Island. Two men hiding behind false identities, each having arrived on the scene with fortunes intact and no trail of where the money came from. Definitely way beyond the scope of mere coincidence. But what did it mean? Winthrop and Evelyn didn’t have any children, but could Winthrop have had a son? Could Gable be an illegitimate child seeking his rightful share of the family money? But if so, where did the fortune Gable already possessed come from? Being able to pay ten million dollars cash for an island indicated a sizeable fortune. Maybe it was really Hollingsworth money being used to keep the family secrets from surfacing. But with the discovery of the skeletons, that was no longer a viable situation.
Too many confusing possibilities. And none of them felt right to her.
One thing she needed to do before the news became common knowledge…she needed to email Prescott and tell him about the discovery of the skeletons so he would believe all her efforts were concentrated on his requirements. In fact, she should have done it yesterday. She would tell him about being caught in the mudslide, the traumatic experience had sent her to bed with a concussion and other minor injuries, with this being her first opportunity to contact him.
An amused chuckle surprised her as it escaped her throat. It’s going to be interesting to see his response to this little tidbit of information.
After sending the email, she turned her thoughts to the next item on her list—confronting Gable with what she had discovered about him and demanding some answers. Whatever he was hiding might keep him from making promises or offering a commitment of some sort, but after last night he owed her some answers if nothing else. And she wanted those answers. She wanted…no, she needed…to know his true identity. She could not continue to be intimately involved with a man who had been deceiving her.
Lexi set about gathering together her information and organizing her thoughts. It was already lunch time. She had stayed in her room all morning, but now she needed to confront Gable. They had to find a private place where she could—
The loud knock on her door startled her out of her thoughts, followed by a jolt of adrenalin. A little shiver of anxiety accompanied the unwelcome possibility that immediately popped into her head. Could it be Brian Cookson again? She recalled the way he had stared at her from the top of the ravine, not making any effort to help her until Hank and Dolly arrived. Had he been contemplating doing her some harm? But why? And why had he been in the area when she fell into the ravine, close enough to hear her calls for help?
With everything that happened, plus what she had discovered that morning from her research, her impressions about him being dangerous were all the more disturbing. Then another unpleasant thought hit her.
Perhaps she was not the only person on the island being paid by J.D. Prescott.
Or Winthrop Hollingsworth.
Chapter Seven
When Gable didn’t receive any response to his knock, he knocked again. It had taken all his will power to keep from going to her room when she didn’t show up for breakfast. He had attempted to work in his office, but finally gave up trying to concentrate after he read an email for the third time and still didn’t know what it said. Was she all right? Had some latent injuries surfaced as a result of her fall? Had she decided to stay in bed and rest? Or worse? Had she physically been unable to get out of bed?
Then his real fear finally penetrated that wall he had put up to keep it away. Had she developed second thoughts about them making love? Was this her way of telling him she regretted her decision? That possibility bothered him more than anything. Physical injuries would heal. Emotional exhaustion from her ordeal at the ravine would pass. But her rejection would surely touch him in every way possible, destroying any possible plans for a future that would include Alexandra Caldwell as part of his life.
One way or the other, he needed to know why she had chosen to remain secluded in her room all morning. The anxiety churned inside him to the point where he could not stand it any longer. He called to her through the door. “Lexi…are you in there? Are you okay?” As he raised his hand to knock again, the door swung open.
The expression on her face confused him. At first it showed caution, then quickly changed to relief when her gaze settled on him. He entered her room, closing the door behind him. Almost as an involuntary action, he pulled her into his embrace. She felt good in his arms as if she belonged there. “You didn’t come to breakfast and stayed in your room all morning. Dolly has lunch ready and you’re still in your room. I’ve been worried about you, but didn’t know if I should disturb you or not. I didn’t want to intrude if you preferred…” His words trailed off when he realized he had been on the verge of babbling. He brushed a tender kiss across her lips. “I know you told me not to ask you this again, but I can’t help it. Are you all right?”
The little tremor of apprehension said it wasn’t her health that troubled him. “I was afraid that maybe…uh…I mean, after last night I wondered if you…” He gave up trying to articulate his true concerns. For someone who could manifest a commanding presence and confident demeanor whenever he needed it, he had suddenly turned into an inarticulate bumbler incapable of expressing himself in an understandable manner.
“Are you trying to ask me if I’m suffering from morning after regrets?” Her voice teased as she slipped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder. Then her tone turned serious. “No…no regrets on my part.”
The sigh of relief that shuddered through his body reverberated to her. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t something very important that they needed to discuss. She drew in a calming breath, held it for a couple of seconds, then slowly exhaled. And now was as good a time as any, in the privacy of her room where no one could see or hear them.
A discussion that couldn’t wait any longer.
Truth that must be brought out in the open.
She reluctantly pulled away from his embrace. Being in his arms kept her from thinking clearly. His mere touch clouded her thoughts with emotion. “We do need to talk, but it’s not about last night.” Caution immediately filled his eyes, the sight sending a flicker of anxiety rippling through her body.
“Okay…” His voice held as much wariness as did his gaze.
“I’m not sure where or how to begin.”
He grasped her hand, but she pulled away from him. “Please don’t do that. This is difficult enough without the physical contact.” Her nerves stretched to a tautly strung edginess. “I guess the thing to do is just say it outright.”
She made eye contact with him and held it for several seconds as she gathered what she hoped were the proper words. “I’ve checked on some of the people I’ve encountered since beginning my research into the disappearances and I’ve come up with some things I can’t explain.” She sucked in another steadying breath, held it for several seconds as she stared at the floor, then slowly let it out. It didn’t do anything to lessen the uneasiness churning inside her. “First and foremost…uh, first on my list is…” she looked up and caught another moment of eye contact with him, “is you.”
“Me?” His eyes
widened in surprise followed by the flicker of anxiety that danced across his face.
She tried to read his tone and expression, but couldn’t get a handle on his thoughts. There was nothing for her to do other than tell him what she found…or in his case, didn’t find. She paused as she gathered her courage, then blurted out the words. “Gable Talbot didn’t exist before five years ago.” She didn’t sound as confident and in control as she hoped she would. “Four and a half years ago you paid ten million dollars cash for Skull Island without any indication of where the money came from.”
She attempted to force a calm to the knotted lump in the pit of her stomach. As much as she tried, she could not keep the quaver out of her voice. “I keep asking myself the same questions. Who…who are you? Where did you come from? Why was it so important for you to own this island that you paid more than it was worth in order to possess it? Surely not just to open a resort. There are plenty of places where you could have purchased very desirable land for a lot less than ten million dollars.”
Gable closed his eyes for a moment, his face clearly displaying the anxiety her comments caused. His words were tentative at best, conveying his discomfort with the topic. “And did you come up with any answers?”
“No…at least not any that satisfy me. I even went so far as to toy with the notion that you might be a member of the Hollingsworth family, possibly Winthrop’s illegitimate son, and you paid for the island with Hollingsworth money. Then I dismissed that theory because…well, it just didn’t feel right to me, didn’t make a lot of sense. So, now I’m asking you.” She forced out the words that tried to choke off in her throat. “Who is Gable Talbot? Who are you?”
Deja Vu Page 10
