by Helen Conrad
“Don’t you have a swimsuit in all that suitcase space?”
In point of fact, she didn’t think that she did have one. She’d packed hurriedly, not thinking much about what she would be doing over the next six months, and she knew now that most of the things she’d brought were going to be totally inappropriate.
“No,” she answered slowly, turning away from the water, her decision made. No swim today.
His dark gaze held hers, the ridicule in his eyes stinging. “Do you mean to tell me you would let modesty keep you from swimming in your underwear?” he asked caustically. “I would have thought you were beyond that.”
“It’s not modesty,” she said defensively.
“Then what is it?” His eyes were mocking her, daring her, and she’d never been one to turn away from a challenge.
“I just don’t feel like it, that’s all,” she tried, hoping he would leave it at that.
His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head back, laughing at her. “Are you afraid of me?” he asked softly.
“Of course not!” Summer Davis was afraid of no man. At least that was the image she tried to project. She had to admit that this one man did make her nervous, though she wasn’t sure why.
“Then go on in. If you don’t like underclothes, how about leaving them behind too?”
She hesitated. She hated to let him think he’d intimidated her. On the other hand, she couldn’t imagine undressing in front of him.
“I will if you will,” he said softly.
“I will if you won’t!” she shot back.
He shrugged. “It’s a deal.”
How was she going to get out of this one? Her impetuous nature had done it again. She looked down into the lovely water. It did look so enticing.
“Turn around,” she ordered.
He grinned malevolently, flipped the metal ladder over the side, and did as she said. She slipped off her skirt and delicate camisole. She hesitated over the flesh-colored bra. If she left it on, he would sneer. Defiantly, she ripped it aside. Then, dressed only in the tiny wisp of nylon that clung to her hips, she ignored the ladder and dove into the marvelous lagoon.
It was like diving into cool velvet, and she slipped through the soft water in a heavenly daze. The heat was gone, and in its place came a clean, warm sense of freshness, a revitalization that she’d needed badly.
She’d swum naked before, but never quite like this. The sun was beaming from above, spilling its golden wealth upon the water, and Summer could tilt back her face and receive her own share. The water caressed her, holding her in its special embrace. She would never be satisfied swimming in a swimsuit again.
She swam quickly away from the ketch, wanting to be out of Jack’s direct vision when he turned around. Glancing back, she saw him facing in her direction, leaning back, casually watching her swim. But that was the last attention she paid to him for a long time. She was much too busy diving below the surface to swim with the tiny, zebra-striped fish and flashing electric-blue darters. The water was a new, more comforting environment, and she didn’t want to leave it.
But the meeting with Karl was waiting. The meeting that would determine what became of her life. She began to work her way back toward the boat, watching Jack out of the corner of her eye. A part of her was surprised, and even somewhat disappointed, that he’d kept his word and remained on the boat. It had been her experience that men seldom felt promises were worth much if there was a chance they might get a little more by forging ahead and doing what they wanted to do.
And now came the problem of how she was going to get back on the boat. When she’d undressed, she had been able to get him to turn away because he was willing to do anything that would help get her into the water. Now she had no such leverage.
“Hi,” she called. “Or should I say, ‘Ahoy there’?”
“Say whatever you like,” he said, leaning out over the edge. “But keep on swimming. You look as graceful as a seal.”
“Thanks a lot.” She knew he meant it as a compliment, but she wasn’t sure she should take it that way. “This little seal would like to get up on her rock and do some sunning.”
From the sparkle in his eyes, she knew what he was thinking as he reached out with one dark hand. “Come on up,” he said, but she shook her head.
“Get me a towel ready,” she insisted.
He disappeared, then came back with a huge, red beach towel.
“Hold it out and turn your head away,” she said, trying for a note of command, but ending up pleading.
His smile mocked her distress. “Not on your life,” he answered evenly.
He stood holding the towel ready, and Summer steeled herself for what she knew she had to do. She knew from the look on his face that she could plead until nightfall and it wouldn’t move him. She was not about to sink to begging. A girl had to do what a girl had to do.
So he would see her naked. So what? He wouldn’t be the first. She thought she could handle it. She had no doubt in her ability to make a clean pull up the ladder onto the deck, but she knew there would have to be a long few seconds before she would be able to get that towel around her. However, it seemed to be inevitable.
She would not beg. And she refused to let him think that his gaze on her naked flesh would embarrass her.
Her arms were strong and the thrust took her well up on the side. Another surge of will, and she was on her feet before him, reaching for the towel. When he pulled it back away, out of her reach, it took a moment for the fact of his denial to sink in.
His dark, cool eyes devoured her as they probed every part that lay exposed before him. The water ran in quicksilver chains across the length of her tanned flesh, turning to golden ribbons where it crossed skin that seldom saw the sun. She stood before him with pride, disdaining to try to cover herself, letting his gaze rake her firm, brown-skinned thighs; the rounded whiteness of her hips; her darkened navel; her flattened stomach; the full, thrusting sway of her pink-tipped breasts, now coursing with water that dripped from the nipples onto the varnished wood floor.
She saw the desire in him, the deep, wrenching need that rose to choke his throat, and she tried to turn it aside with her own aggression. Lunging forward, she made a pass at the towel, but she caught instead the very man she wished to avoid as the towel fell, useless, to the bottom of the boat.
His warm, crisply clothed body was against her water-cooled skin and his hands were slowly sliding down her naked sides, curving about her hips, pulling her in to know the length of him, as his mouth closed on hers. The warmth that spread from his kiss was like nothing she’d ever felt before, and she was suddenly dazed, unable to resist. His lips were soft, yet firm, drawing at her as though to stoke the fire of her response. The tongue that sought entry found her lips a willing conquest. Her bones had turned to rubber, supple and ready to move as he directed.
The kiss deepened, exploring, demanding, letting her feel the dominance he would insist upon, leaving her weak and pliant. She felt a shuddering moan at the back of her throat, and at the same time, her hand began to explore the warm skin of his chest, left vulnerable by the low opening of his shirt.
The pounding of his heart was under her fingertips, so alive, so insistent. She spread her fingers into the rough, tightly curled hair beneath the cotton cloth, scratching lightly at the tanned skin, and she felt his indrawn breath in response.
But the kiss was over as suddenly as it had begun. His hand had tangled into her wet hair, pulling her head back, before she realized what was happening. Though her body was still pressed to his, the passion that now consumed him seemed closer to anger than to desire.
“You beautiful little tramp,” he ground out. “You’re as stunning as a Conus, but I’m sure your sting is twice as deadly.”
Then he released her, and she felt as though she were spinning, though in truth, she still stood where he’d left her. His attention was all on the engine, which roared back into life, and she picked up the towel and clutched i
t to her.
What had just happened had shaken her to the core. Not because he had seen her nakedness and had reacted accordingly. That sort of thing she would have expected. What had shaken her was the way her own body had responded. This was something she’d never experienced before.
It must be the heat, she kept telling herself as she deftly slipped into her clothes without letting the towel reveal one square inch more than she wanted it to. The heat, combined with the exhausting swim, and the air trip—it all added up to abnormal conditions. That was what it was. Blame it on the heat.
She looked at her hands. Her fingers were trembling and so were her legs. What on earth was going on here? She glanced at him and felt a new wave of tropic warmth flowing through her. Something about him opened secret places in her that hadn’t been free before. There was no other way to say it. She took a deep, deep breath and said a little silent prayer. At the very least, she had to pretend she was used to this. She couldn’t let him know what he did to her. Never.
They were outside the reef again, and speeding toward the other side of the island. When they returned to the protected waters, Summer saw that the beach here was much less sandy, with tangled vines growing right down to the shore. Coconut palms swayed in the breeze to every direction, and up on a hill overlooking the lagoon stood a huge, white, two-storied house with wide verandas.
Summer looked toward Jack, hoping for an explanation, but when he didn’t offer one, she kept quiet. After what had passed between them, she didn’t want to be the one to renew conversation.
There was a pier leading out into the water with a large float attached to it. Jack cut the engine and pulled his ketch alongside the padded edge of the float. Summer gathered her things together, ready for a scramble and a quick good-bye, but to her surprise, he turned the engine off and prepared to tie the boat fast.
“I can find my own way,” she ventured, probing for his intentions.
“I’m sure you can,” he replied without wasting a glance upon her.
She hesitated. She had to say something about what he’d done to her. When he looked up, she glared at him.
“I didn’t deserve that,” she said coldly. “What you did to me back there, it wasn’t right. You can’t treat me that way. You can’t talk to me that way.”
He nodded, his eyes hooded. “I understand,” he said softly. “But don’t worry. I don’t think the opportunity to do that again is likely to arise anytime soon.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Why did he scare her like this? She nodded shortly and turned to get her bags. She struggled with one of them and suddenly he was behind her, taking it from her hands. “Get on the float and I’ll hand it to you,” he said, his face showing a resigned patience with her ineptitude.
She did as he suggested, watching with alarm as he followed the suitcases with his own athletic form.
“Why are you staying?” she asked. She could hear the apprehension in her voice and she wished she’d been more careful not to show how badly she wanted to see him sail off, away from Karl, away from her. The incident at the lagoon was still very fresh in both their minds. She wanted more than anything to erase it.
He stood beside her, tall and dark, black eyes flat as he gazed into hers. “Would it bother you if I stayed?” he asked slowly.
“Of course not,” she lied. “I just don’t want you to feel you need to on my account.”
“I’m not staying on your account.” He was enjoying her uneasiness. She could see that now. He was well aware of every thought that was racing through her mind, and he was enjoying every minute of it.
Her jaw thrust forward defiantly. Enough of this sidestepping dance. Why not confront him straight out?
Turquoise eyes flashing, she stood her ground. “Listen. I’m not too crazy about what happened out there when I was swimming. I hope you’re not thinking of developing it into something more, because I’ll tell you right here and now that I—“
He didn’t touch her, but the sweep of his glance froze the words in her mouth. “Spare me the blushing virgin speech. Nobody forced you to flash your naked body around in front of me.” His dark gaze slipped down across her trim form one more time as though it was something he couldn’t help but do. “I think you got off lightly. Don’t you?”
“Meaning what? I’m lucky you didn’t rape me?”
His grin was cocky. “It wouldn’t have been rape and you know it.”
She gasped, wishing she could refute what he said, but knowing it was true. She’d been putty in his hands, ready for whatever he wanted. And that was what scared her the most.
Handing her one of her own bags, he started up the ramp. Summer hesitated only a moment before striding after him. He was the one who’d made a narrow escape, she tried to convince herself.
But though she tried hard to put up a fierce front, inside, she knew it was all a sham, and that he had shaken her badly. What right did he have to hang around, anyway? He was just a source of transportation. She had the same sense of outrage she would have had in Dallas if a cab driver had followed her into her apartment after driving her home from the office.
“I’ll take you to Karl’s house,” he threw over his shoulder.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” she objected firmly. “I’d just as soon have a private reunion with Karl, if you don’t mind.”
“You see.” He stopped, turning to look down at her mockingly. “You don’t really understand. I do mind. I mind very much.”
Her pink lips flew open with indignation. “What right do you have?” she cried. “You are nothing to me, and no part of my life. Why do you want to interfere?”
His smile was wicked. “Do I have to draw you a picture? Put it in writing so that you can mull over the complexities in your spare time?”
She’d taken just about enough of this. Casting her bright glance around, searching through the trunks of coconut palms, she hoped to catch a glimpse of Karl’s home.
“Never mind the insults,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just point me in Karl’s direction, and get back on your little boat and sail out of my life. Go back to your own island.”
His grin deepened. She hated his enjoyment. “Summer, Summer, you still don’t understand. This is my island.”
“What?” But even as she asked for an explanation, she knew it was the truth. Why hadn’t she realized it before?
“I own the plantation that your friend Karl manages.”
Gears shifted with blinding speed in Summer’s head. There was no point in bemoaning fate. Summer was a realist. She was well used to accepting unpleasant facts and dealing with them accordingly. A false smile lit her blue-green eyes, and her wide lips curled.
“Well, isn’t that wonderful?” she exclaimed, almost as if she really meant it. “And I never guessed.” She cocked her head coquettishly to the side, grinning merrily. “Somehow I thought a plantation owner would look more . . . well ... sophisticated. Not quite so waterfront frumpy. You know what I mean?” She looked with pitying amusement at his white suit, rumpled now after the clinch with her wet body. “I took you for a shipwreck survivor. A waterfront derelict. But now I see how wrong I was.”
It was a lie, but he deserved it. And she had to feel she’d gotten in at least one shot that drew a bit of blood, to soothe her own wounded spirit. But she needn’t have bothered. The insult didn’t touch him at all.
Actually, she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t realized immediately exactly who he was. He looked every inch the plantation owner. She should have known.
His answering grin was lopsided and humorless. “I was right. You have a sting. I only hope you never have a chance to turn its full, lethal force on me.”
“Why Mr. Masters,” she trilled. “I’m sure it takes more than poison to drop a man like you.”
With a wry glance, he turned and began walking inland once again with Summer following. They were among the palm trees now, and she could hear the breeze ruffling their stiff, crisp f
ronds. The path they walked on was of crushed coral, a powdery reddish-gold in the afternoon light, and almost impossible going in her fragile heels. Shrubs, bushes, vines, and flowers sprang up all around them. But there was very little evidence of human habitation.
“Where’s the village?” she asked from just behind him. “I was expecting to see people by now.”
“The village is a quarter mile farther, out beyond that stand of mango trees.” He pointed toward a group of huge, large-leaved trees that stood broodingly aloof from the palms. “Samoans always build their living quarters near running water, and in this case, they have a fairly strong stream.”
“The big white house is yours, isn’t it?” she asked.
He nodded. “And here is Karl’s house.”
She stopped, looking at the small, frame building apprehensively. “He may still be at the wedding,” she ventured.
“He’s back,” Jack answered crisply. “I saw the seaplane he was to return in fly over while you were swimming.”
Their eyes met at the memory, hers wide and startled, his cold, pressing his advantage. “Would you like to knock, or shall I?” he asked mockingly.
Summer dropped her bag with a thump and marched up to the screen door. “Karl?” she called, and was rewarded by a man’s form appearing in the doorway.
He swung open the screen and stared. “Summer?” he exclaimed, as though not sure whether to believe the evidence he found before him. “It can’t be!”
Laughing, she stepped into his embrace. “But it is, darling. Oh, how I’ve missed you!”
He looked very much the same. Of medium height, his sandy hair fell in lanky tufts about his head and his hazel eyes shone with pleasure at the sight of her. He had a gentle look, a quiet, affable manner, and a nervous way of turning his gaze slightly before he turned his head, so that he often gave the impression of sneaking a quick peek before committing himself to full attention.
“Summer! I just can’t believe it,” he repeated. “What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t you get my e-mail?” she demanded.
