Destination Romance

by Barbara McMahon

  Several times during the fast-paced game she hit a ball over only to have it slammed back to their side, the glint in Michael's eyes revealing savage triumph as his team pulled ahead. She tried harder, but each time she'd hit a ball over he'd return it, rarely giving his teammates a chance against her moves.

  Michael played the game ruthlessly, all out to win. Katie fought back, but grew more and more frustrated as it became apparent to her what he was doing. She wanted to stop him, defeat him, prove to herself that she could put some sort of dent in the man—even if only in a game. But none of the others on her team played as ruthlessly, as determinedly, not even Jim.

  Slowly, steadily, Michael's team drew ahead. His serves were powerful, impossible to return. When he was near the net, his spikes were constant. The pleasure in the game was lost as Katie only tried to fight against him.

  Again and again their eyes clashed, the unspoken duel clear to both. As the game played out, Katie became angrier, while Michael became mocking, as her attempts to best him proved inadequate.

  At last it was over. His eyes glittered at her in triumph. The others laughed and criticized the game, regrouping to play again and mix the teams. But Katie had enough. Calling farewell to her friends, she put on her sandals and hurried for Duval Street, trying to get as far from Michael as she could. She'd get her bike and go home; lock her door and remove the phone from the hook.

  She reckoned without him following her. She had not reached the gate to the park before he caught up with her.

  'Katherine.'

  She stopped, and slowly turned around, frowning when she saw how close he was.

  'What?' She only wanted to escape.

  'Where are you going? We're playing another game.' He stopped within inches of her, within easy touching distance.

  'I don't want to play games with you any more. You're ruthless.' She took a step back.

  'I play to win.' His voice was quiet, threatening.

  'Yes, and I play volleyball for fun. It wasn't fun today.'

  'I enjoyed it.'

  He had put back on his shirt, but left it unbuttoned. The expanse of brown chest that showed was powerful, masculine, drawing her eyes. She tried to avoid him, but her eyes were drawn back again and again. Only an hour or so ago she had spread lotion on the warm skin now partially covered by his shirt. Her fingers remembered. She longed to reach out and trail her fingers down that broad expanse, stop fighting and–

  'Go play with the others. I don't want to,' she told him.

  'What do you want to do?' he asked softly.

  'I want to go home. I want you to leave me alone.'

  'I don't think you know what you want, Katherine. But I can wait.'

  She looked away, then back at him, standing so strong in the afternoon sun. Self-assured, confident, determined.

  It was the wrong time, she knew it, but she couldn't help it. It was now or never as far as she was concerned. With any luck she wouldn’t see him again for a few days. Prolonged dithering wasn't going to make it any easier.

  'I do want a favor,' she said, looking away again, across the sand to the turquoise and blue of the sea.

  'What?' Gone was the soft tone. His voice became wary.

  She chanced a glance at his face. It had gone remote and closed. Not the most auspicious time to ask. She should wait, but she plunged ahead.

  'Jim wants an introduction to a bigger banking firm than where he works now. I thought you could give him an in with one of those banks you deal with.' She said it quickly, bluntly, without any explanation.

  His eyes narrowed as he stared down at her as if assessing the question, seeking motives, weighing the possible outcomes.

  'Why?' he asked.

  'He doesn't like it here. He's the only native I know, and wants desperately to get off Key West. I thought you could help him.'

  'Why should I?'

  Her mind went blank. She couldn't think of a single reason why he should–at least not the way he thought.

  'To help out. It wouldn't cost you anything,' she said finally.

  Michael was silent so long that Katie thought he was ignoring her request. She almost spoke again when he replied, 'It will cost you.'

  She looked surprised. 'Cost me? What?'

  He paused a moment, then leaned forward, his face almost touching hers. 'Sleep with me again.'

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Katie's eyes widened as she realized what he'd said. Color stained her cheeks. How dare he proposition her because of her request.

  'You're crazy.'

  'Actually, I'm a businessman. I have something you want, you have something I want. We make a deal. Think on it. I told you I want you. If you wish for me to do something for your friend, you decide how badly you want it. That's the deal.'

  'I think you're an arrogant, ruthless bastard,' she spit out.

  'Maybe, but I want you most damnably.'

  'Never.'

  'Careful, Katherine, never is a very long time. You don't know what the future holds.'

  'I know it doesn't hold me sleeping with you again.'

  'You never know.' His voice was soft, no anger showed. 'I think it would be quite different from what we've shared in the past. You're a different woman from the sheltered young woman I married. Here you’re different from a proper Bostonian wife. I think making love to you now would be hot and wild and passionate. You'd give more than you ever have before, and you'd get more than you ever have before. Think of it, Katherine—one night of wild, hot abandoned passion between us. We started out good. Somewhere along the way we lost our way. But once–for old time’s sake.'

  Her heart leapt at his words, pounding, hot blood rushing through her veins. They’d been so in love when they married. Those first few months had been heavenly.

  'I knew I shouldn't have asked. I'll tell Jim to forget it.' She tried to drag her eyes from his, but couldn't do it.

  'As long as you tell him that it's in your power to get him his introduction, and that you refuse,' he taunted.

  'I'd never tell him such a thing. Even if I ever did he wouldn't want me to lower myself to your request.'

  'Oh, for God's sake, Katherine. We're married. It's not lowering yourself to anything.'

  'No.' She whirled and ran the last few yards to the gate. Then, slowing to a fast walk, she headed for home. She'd get her bike tomorrow. She only wanted the sanctuary of her apartment, the security of her own place, where Michael couldn't penetrate, couldn't throw her life in turmoil.

  She was humiliated, angered and cheapened by Michael's suggestion. How dared he? She was not some slut to offer her body in exchange for favors. Especially not when she was trying to end their relationship.

  Her anger had not abated by the time she reached her apartment. She slammed the door furiously behind her, momentarily ashamed of the racket she caused. There was no need to upset all her neighbors. But her concern was fleeting. Unable to contain her anger, she paced the small room, her fists clenched furiously.

  How dared he suggest such a thing? She paused, her mind flooded with unbidden pictures of the two of them in bed, the kisses hot and tumultuous, reminiscent of his kisses on the beach. Her hands yearned to touch his skin, as she had this afternoon, her body craved his touch. Would their lovemaking be fiery, stormy, tempestuous in the sultry tropical night?

  His idea was an insult, preposterous, outrageous.

  Yet, despite her best intentions, she thought of little else during the long evening. Even as she went to bed, the idea of it churned in her head. Deep within her was the small desire to see what it would be like. She was different now. The few times he'd kissed her on the island, she'd flared with passion and desire.

  Their early months together had been rapturous, exciting, fulfilling. It was only after work became all-encompassing that their sex life had tapered off, come to a halt. She had always thought of making love as enjoyable. Yet the encounters with Michael on Key West proved that wrong. The passionate, raw, almost primitive,
spectacular feelings made enjoyable too tepid a word to describe them.

  Katie didn't venture out until it was time to go to work the next morning. She chose a route different from her normal one and saw no one she knew before she reached the hotel.

  When she left work in the afternoon, she expected Michael to be by the employees' entrance. He was not. For a moment, she felt a twinge of disappointment. Shaking her head at her own inconsistency, she strolled home, glad he was not around. Maybe he finally listened to her.

  When she turned into her street, however, she saw him. He was sitting on the front steps of her building, reading a newspaper. As she drew nearer, she could see it was the Wall Street Journal.

  'Can't keep away from it, can you?' Her tone was carefully neutral. She refused to let the bitterness of her feelings spill out when sight of the paper had her spinning back to their life in Boston.

  He deliberately folded the newspaper and tossed it aside. Standing, he towered over her, his eyes scanning her figure from head to toe.

  'Just reading; it's you I can't keep away from.' His voice was low, sexy, provocative.

  Despite herself, Katie felt a spurt of joy surge through her at his words. A smile tugged at her lips. Then his suggestion popped into mind, and instantly she was on the defensive.

  'Go on, Michael. We've been over and over this. Nothing's changed. Just go away, let the divorce proceed and let’s get on with our lives.'

  'I told you I'd be around. Why not just give up now?'

  She pushed past him and mounted the stairs to the short hallway.

  'Look over your shoulder and I'll be there,' he'd said.

  Involuntarily, Katie looked over her shoulder and saw Michael only inches away from her. He'd entered the hallway before the door had closed. He smiled sardonically into her startled face.

  ‘So now you’re stalking me?”

  She'd like to wipe that knowing, mocking smile from his face—make him understand she was through with him. She raised her hand to push him away. He caught her wrist and pulled her into his arms, giving her a quick kiss.

  'Give it up, sweetheart, you don't have a chance! Do you really think I’m stalking you?'

  'I do. Go away, Michael. What we had is over. I want my freedom.'

  His eyes gazed into hers for a long time. 'Then we’ll see.' He lowered his head, his lips capturing hers.

  Katie wanted to resist. Maybe if she stood still, let the feelings wash through while she gave nothing back, he’d leave her alone. But it was hard to restrain herself—she longed to kiss him in return, hold his body closer to her, feel the pounding in her veins go on and on, feel the heat he engendered consume her, the delight continue forever.

  Michael pulled back, resting his forehead on hers, his eyes dark and mysterious. Bravely she faced him, keeping her face free from all expression. He sighed and stood away from her.

  'See you around.' He turned and let himself out of the front door. As soon as the door shut, Katie sank in a heap against the wall. The hardest thing she'd ever done was not returning his kiss.

  Katie didn't see Michael for the next couple of days, but he was never far from her thoughts. She watched for him on her way to and from work, at the beach in the mornings. But never saw him. She didn't want to ask Debbie about him, for fear of giving rise to speculation. But she listened intently to the different maids' conversations to pick up any mention of him.

  Marlise gave the first clue as to why Katie hadn't seen him around when she and Debbie met her for lunch three days after the volleyball game. They ordered hamburgers and Cokes and sat at one of the outside tables. The colorful umbrella shaded them from the sun's hot rays.

  Katie donned sunglasses to hide the dark circles beneath her eyes. She didn't need her friends questioning her about that.

  'Haven't seen Michael around much—guess we won't any more,' Marlise said as she spread a liberal amount of ketchup on her french fries.

  'Why's that?' Debbie asked, scraping the onion from her burger.

  'Got competition now and more in his league.' Marlise looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. She loved to give out gossip.

  'Meaning?' Katie asked casually, taking a sip of her Coke.

  'Meaning, we now have a young single woman on the make and she's after our Michael. She and her father are down from New York. Only her father's always out on some deep-sea fishing yacht, so Miss Elizabeth Bowman is at loose ends. Or she was until she latched on to Michael.'

  'Michael can take care of himself. No one latches on if he doesn't want them to,' Katie murmured.

  'True, but who said he didn't want her to? He took her to dinner last night, all duded up in fancy clothes. They went to one of the restaurants in the hotel and I saw them. He was most attentive.'

  Katie didn't respond; she felt sick. She picked up her hamburger, wondering if she could possibly eat it. Taking a small bite, she chewed it slowly, forcing it down. She took a sip of Coke.

  What was the matter with her? She’d had wanted to end their marriage. This was perfect. If Michael found another woman, he'd be glad to release her. There would be no more problems.

  Why wasn't she happier?

  As the conversation ebbed and flowed around her, the soft sea breeze caressed her skin. The sun shone from the cloudless blue sky, yet Katie felt as if she were in a cold cave. She didn't remember eating her hamburger, but when she looked it was almost gone. Her drink didn’t quench her thirst, but gave her something to do with her hands, and an excuse for not talking.

  She wanted to be alone. She tried to follow the conversation between Marlise and Debbie, but couldn't concentrate. Idly she watched people passing, the happy faces of the visitors, the contented ones of the natives. It was a typical afternoon in Key West.

  Katie gathered her rubbish and rose. 'I'm off- have some errands to attend to.' She plastered a smile on her face. Appearance was everything; that she had learned years ago at her aunt's knee.

  Once free from observation by her friends, she could relax, but until then she'd keep the silly grin on her face.

  She walked down Duval Street, a strange ache in her breast. 'He was most attentive.' Marlise's words echoed and re-echoed in her head. Katie knew how attentive he could be. Knew how charming and compelling he was when he set out to be.

  As if the very thought of Michael conjured him up, she saw him before her on the pavement. Beside him was a lovely young woman dressed in an obviously expensive shorts and shirt set. Her dark hair was carefully arranged, her nails long and polished, her complexion clear and tanned.

  Katie stopped, flustered. Should she cross the street, pretend she hadn't seen them? Or duck into the nearby T-shirt store? Or–

  The decision was taken from her. Michael caught her eye and held it as he drew near and stopped his companion.

  'Hello, Katie. Elizabeth, I'd like to introduce you to Katie...Harrington. Katie, Elizabeth Bowman. Elizabeth’s staying at the Monarch, too.'

  'How do you do?' Katie said, her eyes on Michael, though with dark glasses neither would notice. Beside the elegantly turned-out woman, she felt hot and sticky and unkempt.

  'How do you do? Are you staying at the Monarch as well?' There was just a trace of a New York accent.

  'No, I work there.' Katie darted another glance at Michael, but his expression gave nothing away. His eyes were hooded as he watched the two women.

  'Oh?' Elizabeth looked perplexed.

  'Uh, huh, I'm a maid.' Katie smiled as she said it. She recognized Elizabeth for what she was: a snob of the first order. Not for her socializing with the hired help.

  Michael's lips twitched slightly and he looked away. Had Katie glimpsed amusement in his eyes?

  'I'm sure we'll run into each other often,' Katie continued, giving in to the impish feeling that developed from the pretentious Miss Bowman. 'Key West is such a small, cozy place. Nice to see you again, Michael.'

  Katie felt great. Her voice had sounded sincere; none of the turmoil she felt
had showed. Michael would never know how much this had cost her. He'd thought to catch her off guard and she'd proved she could hold her own with him.

  Elizabeth had manners, if nothing else, and she nodded and smiled politely at Katie. As they walked on, however, Katie could hear her reproach Michael.

  'Really, did you have to introduce the maid? Surely the hotel doesn't expect the guests to fraternize with the help.'

  Katie couldn't hear Michael's reply. He, of course, had done it deliberately to make sure she knew he was with someone else. Well, that was fine. She was glad for him. Now maybe he'd leave her alone.

  Not that he had forced himself on her. She had to be honest. Each encounter at Key West had been partially her own doing. Funny, she didn't think back to their lives in Boston. It was as if they were two different people. The only Michael she thought of now was the one she knew in Key West. And he didn't resemble her husband of the last several years.

  Had he changed, or had she? Had she lived in a dream world in Boston, moving through the motions, oblivious to everything that went on around her? Had the Michael of Key West been there all along and she too blind to see? More importantly, if he had been there, had she made a mistake in wanting to end their marriage?

  Every time she came into contact with him, she was aware of him physically, of the strong magnetic attraction of the man. She thought back to the conversations they'd had since he arrived in Key West. When he talked to Rick or Jim, his contributions were interesting and insightful. He never condescended when talking to either, though in business both were vastly inexperienced in comparison.

  Their private conversations had centered on themselves. No words of love, only of separation and endings. Yet she'd enjoyed breakfast—until his threat; enjoyed their dinner at the Only One. Flushing with the truth, Katie realized she liked his kisses; the desire to repeat them was almost overwhelming, and her lips actually ached in longing.

  Sadly, Katie wondered if he had found someone else to take her place, to provide him with a hostess for his functions, someone who would like his house, enjoy the social standing of being Mrs. Michael Donovan? Someone who would want the hot, wild, passionate nights he spoke of?