Bird of Paradise

by Katie MacAlister

  “Honesty?” she repeated, her eyes worried as she gnawed on her lower lip. “You think I'm honest?”

  “I'm not often wrong about people,” he said with a teasing smile. “So now that you know the worst of me, what about it? Will you rate me?”

  She blinked her big grey eyes at him a couple of times while she thought over what he had said. “All right.”

  Hope—amongst other things—rose. “You're sure you wouldn't mind?” he asked, damning himself for giving her an out, but unwilling to force her into doing anything.

  Her eyes were silver in the moonlight, warm silver with tiny black imperfections that caught him and held him fast.

  “No, I don't mind.” She smiled, a little worriedly, but still it was a smile. “I have always believed in furthering the knowledge of science.”

  Slowly, Adam, he told himself, don't pounce on her. Give her the respect she's due. Go slowly. Don't scare her. And for God's sake, don't let her see the desperation in your eyes!

  “Right, then.”

  “Right,” she said, her eyes dropping modestly. God, but he wanted to touch her, to taste her, to taste all of her. He bit down the sharp edge of his desire, and leaned toward her, his hands fisted into the grass to keep from grabbing her and pulling her under him.

  Her breath was sweet on his lips, soft and warm and inviting. Her eyes were silver disks so beautiful it almost hurt to look into them. The soft floral scent of her skin merged with the heavier perfume of the night blooming flowers, causing little pinpricks of heat to form on his skin, then sink inward and head straight for his groin. His lips touched hers, teased them, withdrew, then returned to tease them again. Her eyes closed as he tasted her lips, nibbling gently on her lower lip until, with a moan that went deep into his chest, she opened her mouth for him.

  She was paradise, she was heat, she was desire. He kissed her deeply, stroking his tongue against hers, and almost lost control when she returned the caress. He pulled back enough so he could see into her eyes. They were dreamy and filled with passion.

  “Oh, Adam,” she sighed, then grabbed his head and pulled him down over herself. Adam fought his desire for a nanosecond, then gave in, doing what he wanted to do the first time he saw her, holding her head at the optimum angle, and diving into her mouth as if he was searching for buried treasure. He growled into her mouth when she arched her body up against his, her breasts rubbing a heated friction against him, her skin warm and soft and infinitely inviting. He released the silken curls and slid his hands down, over the loose cotton jacket she wore over her dress, sliding it off her bare shoulders, stroking his hands down the satin of her arms.

  She kindled a fire deep within him, burning brighter and brighter with each moment that he drank in her scent, touched the lush curves of her breasts that surely had to be created just for his hands, and tasted the rapture found when their mouths met. The sound of approaching voices sent a signal through the haze of desire and need and something much warmer that he didn't want to look too closely at. They were in a public place. He could not continue out here, in the open.

  His lips parted reluctantly from hers as he rose back on an elbow, her fingers still entwined in his hair. The soft cotton of her dress molded to the contours of her body, driving from his mind any consideration about privacy or the need to stop. He traced a finger up the curve of her shoulder, over to her breastbone, then down to the fragrant valley between her breasts. She stared back at him with heated eyes, her breath just as ragged and unsteady as his, her breasts heaving beneath the heat of his hand.

  “Let me see you,” he said, his voice thick with wanting. He pushed the light dress jacket from her completely, his hands moving quickly to the buttons on the sleeveless dress she wore underneath. “Dear God, you're beautiful. So beautiful. So sexy.”

  “No,” she whispered, struggling to recapture the soft cotton jacket, tugging it back up her arms.

  “What's wrong?” he asked, pausing with his hand on a button. A finger's breadth away the heavy curve of her breast lay beckoning him.

  “I don't…I don't want you to…”

  Pain cut through him. He withdrew his hand. “You don't want me to touch you?”

  “No,” she moaned, her eyes brilliant with unshed tears. “It's not that, I don't want you to…”

  “What?” he asked, almost desperate. “Kiss you? Touch your breasts? Make love to you?”

  “See me!” she shouted, pushing hard on his chest, shoving him away so she could sit up and right her clothing.

  What the hell?

  “You don't want me to see what?” He looked around. “You don't want anyone to see us out here? I agree completely, and I apologize for starting it here, but I had no idea…well, I had no idea it would go this far. We can go inside to your cabana, if it will make you feel better.”

  “No,” she said, buttoning up her dress and wiping at a tear that snaked down her cheek. “Not my cabana.”

  “Mine, then,” he said, wincing at the note of desperation in his voice.

  “No, you don't understand,” she argued, not looking at him as she got to her feet, then bent to put on her sandals. “We can't do this.”

  He stood. “I had assumed because you were here that you had no impediments to a relationship. If that's so, it must be me that doesn't appeal to you. I guess I have my answer to the Brittany question.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, turning to him, her face an agony of indecision and guilt and something that looked very much like desire. “It's not you. You are…your girlfriend was wrong, dead wrong. That kiss was—indescribable. Wonderful. Marvelous. Rhapsody.”

  Well, now he really was confused. He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “I thought it was pretty damn good, myself. If it's not me, and you don't have someone else, then what exactly is the problem?”

  Her silver-eyed gaze dropped as she pulled her hand from his. “I have to go now. Thank you for…thank you.”

  She turned and almost ran back to the door that let from the tiny patio to her cabana.

  “Wait, Hero!” Adam started to follow her. Something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. If he could just get her to tell him, he could deal with whatever it was. “Why can't you—”

  She whirled around at her door. “Oh, you stupid man, don't you understand? It's me, not you. Look at me!” She waved her hand in the direction of her torso. “I'm not pretty or tan or trim or any of the things those other women are.”

  He stopped, stunned at her words. She didn't think she was pretty? She was beautiful! She was a goddess personified! She was perfect!

  “I'm not beautiful, and I'm not sexy, and I don't want you looking at me. There. Are you happy now? I hope so, because I don't think I can go over this explanation again. Thank you for the kiss, it was very nice. Good night.” She opened her door and stepped through it.

  “Hero, just wait a min—”

  The door slammed behind her.

  “—ute.”

  A lock clicked into place. He stood there for long minutes staring at her door, bewildered, confused, completely at a loss as to what to do to make her realize he didn't see her as anything but desirable and captivating.

  He was in completely over his head, and hadn't the slightest idea what it was going to take to come to the surface.

  “You're being unreasonable.”

  “Shhh!”

  “I am not.”

  “SHHH!”

  Hero's voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper. “I simply do not wish to continue this discussion. Now may we watch the movie?”

  Adam leaned close to her, his mouth next to her ear. Hero fought back a shudder of complete delight at his nearness. “Why won't you believe me when I tell you that I think you're beautiful?”

  Hero smiled through gritted teeth as one of the cameramen turned to look at them. They were sitting in the back row of the theatre, a room equipped with rows of comfortable seats and a large wall-sized plasma-screen televisi
on, and she would be damned if she lost out points on her first official date simply because Adam insisted on driving her mad. As if the guilt riddling her because he thought her honest wasn't enough to do the job. That, or war between the need she felt to believe he truly admired her and the realization that he was just sweet-talking her to keep from revealing his secrets. Didn't he realize that she was nearly driven to insanity by the torture of having to sit next to him like this? The island paradise promised in the Eden promotional material felt more like purgatory to her.

  “I'm not beautiful,” she murmured under her breath, her eyes on the cameramen in the room rather than the movie. “You don't have to say I am, it's not part of our agreement. You don't have to worry; I've already said I won't give you away.”

  “That's not why I'm saying it,” he said, a disgruntled look on his face. She smiled wildly as a cameraman headed their way.

  “Smile,” she hissed. “We're supposed to be compatible, remember?”

  He draped his arm over her shoulders. “We're going to have this out later, you and I,” he promised softly in her ear. She shivered at the feeling of his breath brushing her flesh, but said nothing. What was there to say? She had made her bed, now she had to lie in it. Alone.

  “That wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be,” Adam said later, as the movie ended. As it was a ladies' choice day, the women selected the men they wished to participate on that day's dates, both geared to please the female palate. Hero was obliged to pick Adam as her first date despite wishing she'd never thought up the grand idea of blackmailing him into helping her. “Then again, I never have minded chick flicks that much. Most of them are pretty good. Sorry Jesus ate your popcorn.”

  She strolled out of the theatre with the other people, intending on ducking behind a group to avoid speaking to him anymore, but he had other ideas. He tugged her behind a cluster of palms and pinned her back with a steely blue-eyed look. Jesus and his attendant gecko took advantage of the break to investigate the shrubberies.

  “Come on, out with it.”

  “Out with what?”'

  “Whatever it is that you're holding in.”

  She frowned at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “What makes you think I'm holding something in?”

  “You won't talk to me, you wouldn't let me neck with you during the movie, and for some reason, you take offense when I tell you that you're beautiful.”

  She shivered when he ran his thumb along her lower lip, and jerked her head away. “I don't have time to discuss the cruelty of pretending you enjoy someone's company for your own gain. Nor do I have time to explain the arrogance inherent in men that drives them into thinking that all women are putty in their hands with just a kiss or two. Be thankful I don't, because if I did have time, I would inform you in no uncertain terms that I found your ridiculous claims both hurtful and derogatory.”

  “What ridiculous claims?” he asked, a frown pulling those two lovely eyebrows together.

  “You should know, you were the one making them last night.”

  He stared at her for a minute. “Are you talking about the fact that I wanted to make love to you, or that I find you a sexy, intelligent woman who I'd like to know better? A lot better?”

  She stiffened. “I have to go. My next date is in fifteen minutes.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Fine. You can spend five minutes talking to me.”

  “I don't wish to talk with you. Surely that is clear?”

  “What's clear is that you have the erroneous idea that you're not attractive.”

  She waffled between the desire to grind her teeth in anger, and the urge to cry. The anger won out. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “What?” He stepped back, surprised at her outburst.

  “Why won't you be honest with me?”

  “I have been honest with you.”

  “You have not. You say those…those…nice things, but you don't really mean them, not in the sense you want me to think you do.”

  He looked genuinely surprised. Obviously he did not realize she knew the truth behind his motivation. “Hero, what are you talking about?”

  “I don't need your pity!” she yelled, shoving hard on his chest to push him back a couple of steps. “I'm not so bloody pathetic that I need your pity kisses and your pretended interest and nice words meant to make me feel like I'm something I'm not. You might think that you're the only man who's ever felt sorry for me, but you're not. I'm an expert concerning men who deign to notice me, and I can tell you right now that I'm not grateful for your attention or your kisses, so you can bloody well bugger off and go annoy some other woman!”

  “Is that what you think I'm doing?” Adam asked, his voice a low growl, his eyes blazing with emotion. He took a step closer to her, no doubt to try to intimidate her. “You think I'm just hitting on you to make myself feel better, is that it? You think I'm so shallow that I'm incapable of looking beyond the surface for something more meaningful? Or do you think I'm just interested in meaningless sex with any woman who'll spread her legs for me?”

  Hero raised her chin and glared at him, tears of fury pooling in her eyes.

  “You paint a nice picture of me, Hero.” His breath was warm on her face, his eyes hot enough to burn holes through her heart. “Is that what you really think?”

  She thought her heart would crumble under the influence of the pain in his eyes, but she had no choice. It was him or her, and she didn't think she could survive seeing pity in his eyes when he looked at her.

  “I don't want to see you again,” she said, her throat aching with unshed tears. “Our agreement is cancelled. Please do not accost me again.”

  “So I am to be tried and convicted without a hearing? Your faith in me is overwhelming, but then, I guess that's what I can expect from a woman who has to blackmail a man into dating her.”

  Hero turned away, her eyes closed against the pain of his words, pain she knew she deserved. She was the one who had lied to him; he had been honest, completely honest with her. Or had he? That was the worst of having a mind that had snapped, she could no longer tell what was the truth and what was not. Truth, her inner voice whispered— like whether she was pushing Adam away because he pitied her, or if her guilt was the real culprit.

  Without another word to her, Adam rounded up Jesus and walked away. She watched him leave, tears rolling down her cheeks, a sob caught in her throat. He was right. What sort of woman had she become that she would not even give him a chance to defend himself?

  “I am pathetic,” she whispered to herself as she dug through her purse for tissues to wipe the tears from her wet cheeks. “And I have just ruined my life, and my heart is destroyed, and I'll never be able to face Adam, and now I have to appear happy for a millions of viewers when I go on dates with other men who don't even come close to being as wonderful as the man I just drove off, and damn it all, I'm out of tissues!”

  Down the far length of the pathway the tall figure of Simon, her date for the trip out to the bird sanctuary, appeared and waved at her. A cameraman stood next to him.

  “Bloody hell, what timing,” she grumbled, sniffing heavily and waving back. She dashed behind a tree and used a leaf to mop up both tears and nose, reappearing with what she hoped was a convincing smile.

  It would never do to let the TV audience see that her heart was broken here in paradise.

  Chapter Six

  The following day was gentlemen's choice. Hero knew even before Adam and Jesus stalked across the crowded ballroom toward her that he was going to demand her as his date. What she didn't know was what she was going to do about it. Apologizing was out of the question, she had wounded his male ego the day before, which meant he was determined to prove her judgment of him was wrong. He would be all that much prone to saying romantic things, to flattering her, praising her, and quite probably attempting to kiss her.

  Lord, she hoped so.

  She drove that rogue thought from her brain, telling herself
firmly that she might love him more than life itself, she might have a shattered mound of dust where her heart had been, not to mention the snapped-mind incident, but she would not tolerate mutiny. That still left the issue of what was she to do to stem the tide of affection he would no doubt be forced by his own sense of injustice to slather upon her.

  “I know one thing . . .” she said to herself as Adam approached.

  “Hero,” he said as he stopped before her, a surprisingly grim look on his face. “Ten o'clock. The fishing dock, Boat fifteen. Got it?”

  “. . . I am not kissing you.”

  Immediately his brilliant blue eyes looked at her lips. “Hell.”

  That was her thought exactly.

  “Boat fifteen. Half an hour,” he said hoarsely, dragging his gaze from her lips to give her a heated look that left her knees melting into a puddle of water.

  She summoned every last ounce of determination, and put it in one word. “No.”

  He frowned. “Now what?”

  “No, I won't go on a date with you.” She made shooing motions with her hands.

  He goggled at her. “Did you just shoo me away?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you—I'm not going on a date with you. I refuse your date.”

  “You can't. It's my choice. I choose you. So there.”

  “Ha!” she said as he started to walk away.

  He froze and slowly turned around. “What did you say?”

  “I said 'ha!' Disdainfully and with much scorn. And for your information, Mr. Adam Monday Marsh Fuller, I am not the sort of a woman who says 'ha!' disdainfully and with much scorn lightly. So there yourself!”

  He glowered at her, positively glowered at her now. His jaw was tense and tight, his hands flexing as if they wanted to be around her neck, the words fired out through clenched teeth with all the warmth and friendliness of a bullet. “Boat fifteen. Fishing dock. One. Half. Hour.”