by Helen Conrad
He turned toward her in the dark. “What can I say? He was human. I can see some of him in me. How could I hate him?”
She wondered what of his father he saw in himself. The selfishness? The poor managing qualities? Or the war hero?
“He treated your mother badly?”
After a moment of silence, he chuckled. “How do you judge someone else’s relationship? She loved him. He loved her. Who am I to say it was no good?” He took a deep breath. “My father met her in Hawaii just before he went off to Viet Nam. He brought her back home to Samoa, then promptly went off to join the Navy. I didn’t see him until I was four years old.”
His fingers tightened on her shoulder. “A sense of responsibility was one thing he lacked.”
Summer frowned, puzzled. Someone who noticed that lack in another usually had a strong sense of it himself. But that didn’t jibe with the picture she’d formed through Karl.
“Did your father . . . did he really let the place fall apart?” she asked hesitantly.
She met his glittering glance steadfastly.
“We do have some problems,” he admitted slowly. “But Karl needn’t worry. My father promised him that he would always have a job here, and I’ll keep that promise, no matter what.”
She flushed and was glad for the masking shadows. “I’m not asking for Karl’s sake,” she said a bit defensively. “I’m curious. If the copra operation fails, what happens to the people of this island?”
His arm hardened against her shoulders. “That is not a problem you need to concern yourself with,” he said cooly. “I’ll take care of my people.”
But how? That was all she wanted to know. Did his plans include marrying a rich oil heiress?
Chapter Nine
They had made it back to the house now. Summer stared at the beautiful picture the old place made, its rooms lit from within, the color shining through the drapes, making it look like a palace of Chinese lanterns.
“Since you’re so interested in my father, I’ll show you something that might give you some insight into the darker side of his character,” Jack said suddenly, slipping his arm from her shoulders and taking her hand in his. “Come this way.”
He led her around the house to a small set of stairs that led down into a room cut from the earth almost like a basement. It was bounded on all sides by wooden walls, but the floor was brushed dirt and the ceiling was formed by the underside of the house.
A generator powered the rest of the house, and to Summer’s surprise, even this strange place was lit by electricity. At the flick of a switch, the room was flooded with light.
The area was filled with banks of aquariums. In some, tiny tropical fish darted, flashing their electric colors. In others, large, ominous looking faces gaped out, mouths moving slowly open and closed, flat, sightless eyes staring blindly.
“Good lord,” Summer gasped. “Are you setting up a pet shop, or is this just your hobby?”
“It was a hobby,” he said evenly. “But it wasn’t mine.” He walked along the row of glass cases, turning on the light in each separate tank.
“My father’s specialty was killer fish. You name it, we’ve probably got it.” He rattled off the names as he finished lighting the tanks. “Stone fish, Lion fish, Sculpins, Piranha—they’re all here.” He paused dramatically. “But the ones that will especially interest you are in the back.”
She obeyed his gesture, following him around the bank of aquariums.
He pointed out a large tank along the wall. “The coni,” he said lightly. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
Summer could hardly believe her eyes. The shells were magnificent, delicate cone shapes with brown and reddish coloring as carefully patterned as a Japanese screen. And from the shells protruded living masses of fleshy parts. The snail creatures who lived inside were out moving about in the protected, artificial environment.
“These are gorgeous,” she breathed. “They’re much more beautiful than anything I found today.” Without thinking, she reached forward to put her hand into the tank, meaning to pick one of them up to examine it more closely.
“Don’t!” He grabbed her hand away before she had a chance to follow through on her intention. “Remember, Summer, some species of the conus carry a deadly sting.”
He released her hand and turned to another tank, taking up a wriggling, inoffensive-looking fish in a small net hanging along the side. “This little blenny is harmless and defenseless.” He dropped it into the tank with the coni.
Immediately, Summer noticed that some of the shell creatures had been put on alert. When the hapless fish swam too close to one brightly colored conus, a scarlet red probiscus shot out, stabbing the fish with a tiny, glasslike dart.
“He’s pumping the poison in now,” Jack said as she watched a milky cloud puff out around the victim’s wound. The fish was quickly paralyzed.
“That could have happened to your hand,” he told her grimly.
She slowly shook her head. “That has got to be one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen.” She shuddered. “What would have happened if I’d been stung?”
He shrugged. “There are degrees of danger, depending upon the variety of conus, and the size of the animal. Reports usually show immediate stiffness where the sting occurs, a growing numbness, blurred vision, and pretty soon a fairly general paralysis. After that, sometimes the victim recovers with medical help. Other times, he goes into high fevers, difficult breathing, coma, and finally-- death.”
Summer looked back at the beautiful shellfish which was now slowly devouring its prey. “I suppose we’ve all got to eat,” she said ruefully. “But I don’t much want to watch this little fellow do his stuff.”
“Don’t you?” His jet black eyes sparkled as he looked down at her. “No feeling of sisterly understanding? After all, the sea anemone hunts for prey too.”
She remembered that he’d compared her to the voracious little sea animal the night before. Her turquoise eyes narrowed challengingly.
“But the sea anemone uses seduction, not a knife in the back.” Suddenly, she couldn’t resist a smile. “Which would you prefer?”
There was a kiss trembling there on his full lips, and she watched it, fascinated, waiting breathlessly to feel it on her mouth. Despite everything, when he came this near, she wanted to feel his caress. But it never came. Raising her eyes to his, she saw the struggle being waged. Self control won it.
He turned from her and began switching off the lights of the aquariums.
“This is only part of my father’s personality,” he said warningly, as though his statement was a piece of an ongoing lecture, “this interest in death and killing. Actually, he was quite charming and personable. You would have liked him.”
She followed him toward the door. “Did you like him?”
He smiled. “When he was sober. Yes, I liked him very much.”
“But you don’t much like all this.” She swept her arm about to indicate the contents of the room. “Why do you keep it?”
He sighed. “My mother won’t hear of dumping these tanks. You see, she was very attached to the man, and she wants everything left as it was in his day for as long as she lasts.”
Summer winced at the reference to his mother’s condition. “So the killer fish stay.”
He nodded. “You may have noticed the stifling atmosphere in most of the house because of the drapes over every door and window.”
She nodded, her eyes wide.
“That practice was begun to protect my father on his hangover mornings. My mother wants them kept just as he had them, as though he were still here to lie about groaning on the couch until noon.”
So they weren’t there to hide some deep secret operation. Summer knew that Karl would be disappointed.
Jack led her into the house and accompanied her up the quiet stairs. Outside the door to the room she was using, he stopped.
“You won’t try to run away in the night?”
There was s
omething almost pleading about his tone, and she looked at him sharply but could detect nothing in his eyes.
“No,” she promised. “I won’t try to run away.” She would stay. But for how long?
“Good.” He gazed at her for a long moment, the need to touch her telegraphed by his eyes. She stood leaning back against the door and his glance swept down across the creamy rise of her breasts as they swelled against the twisted knot that held her lava lava about her. Then his eyes were on her mouth.
She knew that she should back up her convictions by scooting in through the door and shutting it very hard. But she couldn’t. In fact, she didn’t even want to.
He rested his hands on either side of her on the door frame, then leaned in and tasted her moist, parted lips. His mouth moved sensuously on hers, rubbing upon her sensitive skin with the slightly roughened texture of his, coaxing out her tongue, then thrusting in with his own to plunder the cavern of her mouth.
She found herself responding with an ardor that shocked her. She clung to his kiss as though she needed it to sustain her life, pulling from it every tiny drop of vitality. When she felt his hand slip in beneath the cloth that had been wound around her, she didn’t protest. Her breast seemed to swell in the cup of his hand and she moaned, arching toward him, playing along the side of his neck with her tongue while he bent to bring the naked nipple to his mouth.
The fire that shot through her finally brought her back to reality. It started in her thighs and ripped a jagged path up through her chest, tearing a gasp from her throat and shocking her into drawing back.
“I’d better go in,” she whispered into his silky black hair. “I really better. Let me go.”
He stopped teasing her breast with reluctance, slowly raising his head to meet her frightened eyes with his own black, desire clouded gaze.
“You have to go in?” he asked huskily.
“Yes.” She was trembling and hoping he hadn’t noticed. Desperately, she tried to pull the lava lava around her but it slipped from her shaking fingers and he had to help her collect it again.
“Maybe I ought to come in with you, just in case,” he drawled.
Her laugh was off-key. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” she said, pulling the cloth together in one hand and trying to fend off his examination of the small of her back with the other. His gaze was so sure and direct, she dropped her own and stammered, searching for something else to say.
“Just in case of what?” she ventured hesitantly.
His smile was lazily confident. “Just in case there are dangers lurking. Who knows? There may be snakes in your bed. You ought to let me in to check for you.”
“Snakes?” Her turquoise eyes widened. “Are there poisonous snakes on this island?”
The smile turned into a wolfish grin. “I’ve never heard of any, but you never know.” In total control of her back despite her defensive maneuvers, his large hands cradled her hips and drew them in against his, letting her feel that his desire hadn’t been lessened by the banter.
She gasped again as the fire licked at her nerves, then let his lips capture hers in one more sensuous caress.
“I’m more afraid of sharks in my bed than snakes,” she said breathlessly as he released her.
“Sharks?” His laugh was low and warm. “What’s wrong with a nice friendly shark?”
She avoided his eyes. “They tend to leave destruction in their wake,” she reminded him.
“That just shows that you don’t understand them,” he said huskily, running a trail of wild kisses down the side of her neck while his hands massaged her spine from one end to the other. “Sharks have a bad reputation because they go out in single minded pursuit of their prey ...” he kissed the pulse point at her throat . . . “and they don’t stop until they get what they want.”
His kisses were descending again, back to the area from where she’d banished him. She knew her resistance wouldn’t withstand much more of his assault. She had to do something to stop him now, or it would be too late.
Her instincts told her that bringing up Karl was no longer going to do the trick. She would have to try a different tactic. Perhaps she ought to try the truth.
“Please, Jack,” she said hoarsely, her hands on either side of his head. “Please, don’t force it. I want to go in—alone.”
A muscle was twitching along his jaw line, and she watched it, fascinated, while she waited to see what he would do.
“What could I do to change your mind?” he asked softly. “What could I do to convince you . . . ?”
Convince her of what? She waited, breathlessly, for him to finish the statement, but instead, he dropped his hands and pulled away from her.
“I’ve told you how I feel about you,” he said softly. “I guess I’ll have to wait until you decide what you want to do about it.”
No, she thought as she watched him stride off down the hall. No, he had never told her how he felt about her. He had told her he wanted her, needed her, but never how he felt.
She slowly turned and entered her lonely room, feeling a chill despite the heavy heat of the night.
Summer stretched back in her chair, luxuriating in the morning breeze off the blue-green ocean. Lia had served her breakfast on the balcony outside her bedroom and she was lingering over her second cup of coffee, letting her gaze run lazily over the lush green jungle, the clipped gardens around the house, the foaming breakers smashing their fury on the thin, black reef.
A predawn rainstorm had cleared the heaviness from the air, though it was still hot. But the heat didn’t affect her as it had at first. She was even beginning to enjoy it. There was a languorous quality to it that made every movement slower, more deliberate, and somehow more sensuous.
The calmness spilled over into other things as well. When she thought about Davis Oil, about the outlook for being a minority stockholder while Skip ruled the board, it didn’t fill her with the impatient anger it once had. She still wanted to run the company. But it was no longer the only goal she cared about. She’d recently come to realize there might be other things to treasure in life.
Abruptly, she rose from the little wicker table and retreated into her sunny room to change from her filmy blue negligee into white duck slacks and a peach and orange striped jersey top. There was a sense of purpose rising in her. She was going to visit Jack’s mother.
Nora Tuamona, the nurse, looked surprised to find Summer at the door to Mrs. Masters’s room. And well she might, thought Summer to herself, remembering how badly she had acted the last time she’d been there.
But this time, it was going to be different. She could empathize with Jack’s mother now because of the things he had told her about his parents. Lia had explained the heart disease Mrs. Masters was suffering from. And knowing she had come years ago, a stranger to this island, much as Summer came now, made her feel somehow closer to the woman. When she looked down at the tiny form, so fragile against the sparkling white bed linen, the smile that curved her lips was spontaneous, not forced.
“How are you feeling today?” she asked as she sat in the chair beside the bed.
The woman reached out a blue-veined hand and Summer took it in her own. “Much better now that I have you here.” Her radiant smile was bright with evidence of the beauty she must once have had. “Has my son been showing off his island?”
Summer couldn’t resist dropping her gaze at that point. “Yes,” she said quickly. “I’ve been shelling and to a wedding and to meet the village matais.” She didn’t bother to explain Lia’s role in the sight-seeing.
“Good. It’s a beautiful island. And the people will show you the same love and respect they welcomed me with so many years ago.” Talking about Lelei seemed to give her a new strength. She pulled herself higher on her pillows, her dark eyes studying Summer.
“Yes,” she said at last, “you will be good for Jack. You have enough spirit to keep him from running roughshod over you.” Her smile was one of pure contentment. “He will
be happy with you.”
Summer felt the stirrings of unease. She should explain the truth to the woman. Why had Jack left it for her to do? But when she looked down into the happy face before her she couldn’t find the words.
“He’s been dissatisfied for so long,” Mrs. Masters went on slowly. “There has been so much to do about the businesses and the plantation. But now he has you ...” she tightened her grip on Summer’s hand . . . “and he tells me he has found a solution for the problems here on the island. You can’t know what a relief that is to me.”
Summer kept the smile on her face, but she felt suddenly cold inside. Were they related? Did his desire to “have her” create the foundation for the solution to the problems on the island?
Turning because of a noise at the door, she found Jack entering the room. A sweep of his dark eyes acknowledged her presence, and he went right to his mother’s side.
“Oh, Jack,” the woman said happily. “We were just talking about you.” She pulled him close for a kiss. “And I have had a marvelous thought. You must take Summer to Apia Falls. That was the place where your father and I fell in love. I want you to take Summer there today.”
Every instinct in Summer’s soul cried out against the plan. She was already half in love with the man. The last thing she needed was another picnic in a romantic setting.
There. She’d admitted it to herself. She was half in love with him. She craved his presence. She dreamed of him at night. She felt a soaring excitement at his touch, just as it was described in the stories she had always scoffed at. Either she was falling in love, or she was going out of her mind.
But there was no way of escaping it. As Jack assured his mother that they would leave for the falls immediately, Summer sat at the bedside, a frozen smile on her face. It wasn’t until they were back outside the room that she could vent her true feelings.
“This can’t go on,” she sputtered, then found herself being propelled by his strong arm to get her past the waiting servants. “She’s got to know the truth,” she hissed.
