"I understand," said Bernard. "We who love Xanadu all feel that way. But don't worry, Alec has a few alternatives he can try. I'm not ready to write off Xanadu yet."
"You know Alec doesn't trust me? That he suspects that Blake brought me to Xanadu to cultivate Alec's friendship so I could spy on him?"
"Alec told me something about the situation last night."
She decided to take Bernard into her confidence. "As far as Xanadu goes, at this point I have no idea who is manipulating me or to what purpose," she said.
"I've never met a more unlikely spy," Bernard told her. "If it's any comfort to you, I intend to reassure Alec that I believe you're above suspicion."
"Thank you, Bernard," she said, grateful for his vote of confidence.
"You know," Bernard continued thoughtfully, "Alec can't help being suspicious. He's been through a lot. Alec overcame an unhappy childhood, and now he's at cross-purposes with his brother. You must remember that Alec is an artist, a fine artist, and he has an artist's temperament."
"He's mentioned his childhood," she said. "I feel for him, but there's not much I can do to help. He needs to work through it by himself, and he seems to be coping well enough except for this rivalry between him and his brother. Fortunately he has his work, which may be therapeutic. He's showed me some of it, and he's an excellent artist." She didn't mention his drawings of her last night.
"I've bought some of Alec's paintings. He and I share an interest in art and antiques, and I like to invest in artists who will be famous someday."
"Alec has potential," she agreed. She paused. "He told me about his upcoming one-man show."
"That in itself is a good sign, and when the Xanadu issue is resolved, Alec will be better able to concentrate on his work. Things will be better."
"Will they? If Blake makes the sale go through?"
"Some of us are determined that Blake will not win." Bernard said curtly.
They sat quietly for a moment, absorbing the tranquility of the garden. Presently the ducks waddled from the pond and disappeared into the shrubbery.
"I really must leave," Cara said. "I've had a lovely time."
"I'll escort you to the gate," Bernard replied. At the greenhouse, Bernard stepped inside for a moment. When he emerged, Cara detected that he was holding a package behind his back, and at the gate he handed it to her. She opened it and withdrew a golden chain of tiny, delicately formed orchids.
"Xanadu Gold," she said, marveling.
Bernard took the orchids from her hands and placed the lei over her head. "A little remembrance from Casa Del Sol."
"I'll remember my visit here always," she said, and impulsively she leaned forward to kiss the old man's cheek. She asked if she could take his picture, and he agreed. She snapped him in front of a huge bird-of-paradise plant.
As she retrieved her bike, Bernard followed her. He opened the gate. "Maybe I shouldn't interfere, Cara, but Alec likes you a lot."
Cara looked out over the lake. "We have an affinity for each other, that is true. But, as I said, he doesn't trust me. And I don't trust either him or his brother."
"I'm glad you feel that you can confide in me, Cara. I'll hope for the best for both you and Alec. And for Xanadu."
Bernard watched as she rode away, and she turned and waved.
When she arrived back at Xanadu, cleaning was still in progress, making work impossible. Otto informed her that the yacht was unavailable due to more problems with the engine, so she couldn't work there. Instead she headed for the peace and privacy of the sculpture garden for a sunbath. She carried a book and a towel with her, spreading the towel on a wide step where a low wall provided a backrest. Lazily she brushed away a curious butterfly and lifted her hair so the sun could tan her shoulders. From the nearby shrubbery she heard the shrill "help, help" of the peacocks.
In front of her stood an undulating marble sculpture labeled Polka II, for no reason she could fathom. She was studying it when the latch clicked on the door behind her.
"There you are," Blake said. Cara looked around immediately. She shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun.
"I didn't know you were looking for me," she said. It was the first time she'd seen him since last night.
"I wanted to tell you goodbye before I left."
"You're leaving today?" Cara was surprised. No one had mentioned a trip. Did this sudden departure pertain to the sale of Xanadu?
"I'm due at the airport in half an hour. Ingrid is packing my suitcase." Uninvited, he sat down on the low wall and Cara looked up at him expectantly.
"I missed you last night," he said.
Cara wondered what Blake had heard about her sudden flight from the ballroom. "I didn't think you'd notice I was gone," she said.
"Of course I did. I wanted to dance with you again."
When she didn't reply, he continued. "I'll be gone for a few days. You can continue with your work as usual. I'm pleased with the progress you've made."
"That's good."
He smiled at her. "Cara, when I come back, I want to see more of you. It would be fun to find out what makes Cara Demorest tick."
She was taken aback, not because his interest in her was unexpected but because after Blake delivered that line, he seemed like an actor onstage waiting for applause.
The words that came to mind were, "Now what?" The words she actually said were more on the order of an indistinguishable "Mmm-hmm."
It must have sufficed because Blake favored her with what the society columns called "the famed Blake Martyn smile" and strode into the house. Cara heaved a sigh of relief. Blake's performance, and she was sure it was a performance, seemed calculated, contrived, and blatantly phony.
Or was it just a normal speech that someone would make to an employee before leaving town for a short time? No, because he wasn't talking only about work. Certainly the last thing she wanted in this house of secrets was for Blake to find out what made her "tick." Whatever that meant.
After several minutes of trying to concentrate on her novel, Cara decided to give up and go inside. Sighing, she gathered her things. She was walking toward the mansion when she saw Tandy hurrying toward her. Judging from the swing of her step, Tandy was furious.
Tandy's eyes flashed as she blocked Cara's path. "I want to talk to you," she said. "It's about Alec. I want you to keep away from him."
Cara managed a laugh. "That's difficult, since we both live here. Anyway, I think Alec should be the one to decide how much or how little he sees of me, don't you?"
"No, I don't," said Tandy. "Everyone in Palm Beach knows that Alec and I have an understanding."
"Everyone, Tandy?" said Cara, her voice and her temper rising. "Everyone except Alec, perhaps. Excuse me, please. I'm going into the house."
It wasn't until Cara took a determined step forward that Tandy reluctantly moved aside. Cara stalked inside with as much dignity as she could muster, and as she crossed the lintel she reached out and gave the door a firm slam. Then, suddenly spent from the confrontation, she leaned against the door jamb and closed her eyes. First Blake and now Tandy. She fervently hoped that the day would hold no further surprises.
As usual in times of stress, she instinctively turned to the ocean. After calling out to Ingrid where she'd be, she made her way across the road and down the sloping path to the sand, bypassing Alec's cabana. After their last parting, she wasn't ready to see him again. A short distance down the beach and out of sight of the cabana, she spread her towel.
Cara wrinkled her nose at the pungent aroma of seaweed in the air. A group of about ten surfers congregated on the beach to the south, probably waiting for more wave action. The ocean looked inviting today, and without a moment's hesitation she ran and dived in. She swam parallel to the shore for fifty yards. Then, realizing that she was drifting too far from her towel, she turned and swam back.
She swam until she felt the unaccustomed pull of several underused muscles before turning back toward shore. She didn't immediatel
y notice the lone figure standing at the water's edge, a surfboard at his feet.
"Spying on me?" she asked, trying to ignore his muscled torso and well-shaped legs as she waded out of the water. Alec came up to silently wrap a towel around Cara's slim shoulders.
"Just looking out for you," he said, watching as she dried herself. "It's really not safe to swim alone. I'm surprised you wouldn't rather use Xanadu's pool."
"The ocean suited my mood," she said. She sat on her towel and handed the wet one back to him as he threw himself down beside her. He'd been swimming himself, and his swim trunks hung on him like an afterthought. The line of hair tapering below his waistband engendered a prickling excitement in her, and she looked away.
"I've talked with Bernard Sherman," Alec said.
Her eyebrows flew up. "Since I left him this morning?"
"Yes."
"And did Bernard convince you that I'm not spying for—anyone?" She was reluctant to speak Blake's name, almost as though it would cast an evil spell.
"He argued a good case," said Alec.
"But did you believe him? Alec, I have to know."
"I want to believe him, Cara." He leaned toward her, propping himself on one suntanned arm.
His eyes rested on her face lingeringly, longingly, and Cara knew that he was hoping against hope that she wasn't on Blake's side.
"Alec," she said steadily, "I give you my solemn word. I never was a spy for Blake. I swear it."
He seemed to consider this for a long moment, and then, unbelievingly, she saw what might be quiet acceptance in his eyes.
When he spoke, his tone was low. "I had to work my way around all the possibilities, which have been fueled by Blake's insinuations. But now, and after Bernard has vouched for you, I'm beginning to believe you're okay."
"Beginning?" she said, holding back on the sarcasm.
"Well, it's a start," he said. He moved closer and circled his arms around her, leaning his cheek against her wet hair.
It was warm, very warm, and Cara gave herself up to the overwhelming sensations that were becoming so familiar. Despite his articulately voiced doubts about her, she had begun to feel an emotion for Alec that she'd never felt before with any other man. It was a closeness and understanding and something deeper; a sense that the two of them were more alike than different. A conviction that they'd been destined to meet in this time and place because they were so right for each other.
"We're shameless," she whispered against his shoulder. "Acting like this on the beach in full view of everyone."
Alec shifted his gaze from the tip of her nose to sweep his eyes over the sand. "'Everyone' in this case seems to be a pelican and a few stray sandpipers. Oh, and four curious gulls. But we'll go if you like."
He helped Cara shake the sand out of her towel and jammed her sun hat on her head, kissing her nose as he did so. "A very attractive nose," he said critically. "I do think it lacks something, though." He frowned. "Yes, that's it—it needs more kissing. Definitely." And he kissed her once more.
Cara smiled up at him delightedly before she saw the expression on his face deepen and become more serious. Her smile faded as she caught and held his eyes with her own, feeling that she was falling, tumbling headlong into their depths. Could he be feeling what she felt? Was he in love with her? Her heart filled with the thought.
Alec caught her hand for a moment and held it against the strong hard planes of his face. His eyes held a mute longing, and she dared to hope that he cared for her as much as she was beginning to care for him.
After a few moments, they turned as one and began to walk hand in hand along the edge of the sea, not speaking, leaving a telltale track of footprints that would last until the tide smoothed them away.
So enwrapped were they in their own thoughts that neither of them noticed the pair of green eyes that intently followed their movement from behind the camouflage of the windbreak.
Chapter 8
The nightmare rolled in stealthily, creeping across her sleep like a nighttime fog. There was that massive wave again, rolling toward where she stood beside her father on the beach. Cara felt the chill fingers of the ocean's depths dragging her down, down, and the familiar choking sensation in her throat. She struggled to cry out, but that only allowed stinging sea water to rush into her lungs. When she reached blindly for her father's hand, she was overcome with sudden, irretrievable loss.
Her own cry woke her. The tears trailed wet on her cheeks, and the bedclothes tumbled around her. It took her a long, terrifying moment to realize that she was safe in her own room at Xanadu.
She stumbled into the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water, hoping that this would dispel the unreasoning fear that had wrapped itself around her heart. In the mirror, a terrified stranger stared back at her.
It was barely dawn and too early to go downstairs for breakfast. Cara spread the draperies long enough to glance toward Alec's cabana, but she saw no movement on the beach. It was too late to go back to sleep, so she straightened out the sheets on her bed and crawled back in, pillowing her head on her hands and staring into the gray half-light.
That horrible nightmare again, and she'd thought she was handling the loss of her father so well. What she needed was Alec right now, she thought, because he'd been so understanding when he comforted her on the occasion when she'd first dreamed it. Alec, comforter and challenger. And perhaps much more.
With her eyes closed, she again pictured the scene yesterday after her swim when Alec led her through the shadowy cabana and showed her the work he'd done on her portrait. He'd thrown open the shutters to illuminate his studio in a sudden blaze of light. Beside the window sat the easel, a small canvas resting on it.
Alec had painted her to look mysterious and proud, a woman of strength and character. The end of the sari was draped over her hair, lending her an exotic air. But it was her eyes which stood out from the rest of the painting, wide and expressive. Her eyes were trusting yet vulnerable, as if they sheltered a secret hurt.
"I think I've captured it," Alec told her. "That elusive dimension that makes a portrait more than just a pretty picture. Of course, it needs a lot more work."
"It—it's very good," Cara admitted, shaken that he'd perceived her mood so accurately.
"You'd inspire any painter," Alec said, pulling her close. After that he'd led her to the couch, and they'd kissed and held each other for a long time. But Cara called a halt before they carried their lovemaking to completion, unwilling to take their relationship to a higher level. Alec assured her that he understood. She wasn't sure if she did or not, but she knew why the time wasn't yet right for her.
Alec had never said he loved her. Maybe that was too much to expect, but it was a declaration that would settle once and for all the question of his doubt. True, she had read the caring in his eyes, and yes, his kisses had been as sensual and exciting as ever. But none of that was a satisfactory substitute for "I love you," the words that would change their game forever. She had the uneasy feeling that Alec was holding some last part of himself in reserve in case she proved to be false.
If that was the case, she would too. Not in retaliation, because that had no place in their growing relationship. No, she needed to protect herself against the possible hurt of losing him. So last night after she'd called a halt, she'd let him see her to the door of the mansion, accepting nothing more than a chaste kiss before she returned to her room.
Now Cara would have welcomed a few more hours' sleep. But the house was beginning to stir around her, and she thought she heard a car leaving the driveway even though the sun was still low in the east.
At eight o'clock she rose and dressed in tennis clothes, thinking that after the morning's work she'd take a break and try Xanadu's courts. She figured she could coax Alec to play a few sets with her, so she texted him to ask if he was interested. He didn't reply, and she expected to see him at breakfast anyway, so she shouldered her tennis racket and hurried downstairs.
When she reached the loggia, she was surprised that the glass-topped table was set for only one. She found Ingrid alone in the kitchen.
Ingrid stopped polishing silver to talk. "Alec asked me to tell you that he's sorry he couldn't say goodbye, but late in the night he received an important phone call about business. This morning Otto drove him to the airport to catch a flight for the state capital. Alec said to tell you it's about Xanadu and you would understand."
Cara was puzzled. She knew that Alec's appointment with the governor wasn't scheduled until next week, so it seemed strange that he was on his way to Tallahassee. Perhaps it boded well for Xanadu that his plans had changed this quickly. Well, or ill. She closed her mind against the latter possibility and tried not to dwell on it.
"I'll carry my own breakfast to the loggia," she told Ingrid, trying not to let her disappointment at Alec's absence become obvious. The housekeeper handed her a tray loaded with waffles, sausage, fruit, and coffee—more than she could eat.
Even the fresh morning beauty of the dew-drenched courtyard did little to rid Cara of her dejected mood. She toyed with her food and wondered why Alec's trip had been moved to an earlier date, and she thought too about Blake's journey to Aspen. She knew from overhearing several of Blake's phone calls that Winston Caylor was still in traction there and unable to travel, so Blake's trip to Aspen was significant as far as Xanadu was concerned. She shook herself mentally and pushed her breakfast tray to one side. Time to get to work.
For several days, she'd planned to begin cataloging items in the downstairs drawing room. She took the shortcut through the grand ballroom, entering it for the first time since she'd fled in hurt and anger the night of the ball. The chandeliers twinkled in the sunlight, but to Cara there was something sad about the ballroom this morning.
She paused for a moment in the middle of the dance floor and tried to recapture the feeling of lightness and grace she'd felt as she waltzed with Alec that evening. The bandstand was empty now, the grand piano closed. The shiny green garlands and swags of bright flowers that had graced the galleries were gone.
The Beach Bachelors Boxset (Three Complete Contemporary Romance Novels in One) (The Beach Bachelors Series) Page 44
