“Should I be?”
He grinned briefly as he switched off the engine and reached into the back seat for a bag. “Maybe. I have been living away from civilization for a while.”
Amy arched one brow as she climbed out of the Jeep and collected the small beach bag she had carefully packed before leaving the inn. “If you try anything that underhanded, I’ll report you to the Better Business Bureau of Saint Clair.”
He slammed the door of the Jeep with a laugh. “You’d have to find it first! Even if there were such an entity on Saint Clair, I have a feeling that reporting my ill-bred behavior would only enhance the reputation of The Serpent. People love a place with atmosphere.”
“Something tells me you don’t have to work very hard to provide it,” Amy grumbled good-naturedly as they made their way into the secluded cove Jase had selected. “The Serpent just reeks of atmosphere!”
“Yeah. Especially when there’s a Navy ship in the harbor,” Jase agreed with great feeling. “Managing a bar can be a real challenge sometimes.”
“You seem to be doing all right at the task.” Amy kept her tone carefully neutral.
“I take it you don’t altogether approve of my chosen career?”
“It’s really none of my business, is it?” she countered, unrolling her blanket on the sand. She kept her gaze studiously focused on the striped beach blanket.
“What sort of work do you do, Amy Shannon?” he asked in a too-casual drawl
“I run a couple of boutiques in San Francisco,” she told him very carelessly.
“Women’s clothing?”
“Umm.” She pretended to study the little gem of a cove, admiring the small stretch of sandy beach and the gently lapping waves. With any luck he wouldn’t press the issue. Most people didn’t. It was ridiculous to be embarrassed about the matter, but it was a bit hard to explain.
“What kind of clothing?” As he watched her face, Jase slowly began to unbutton his shirt. “Sportswear?”
There it was. The question she had hoped to avoid. “Lingerie,” she mumbled, industriously unfastening her jeans to reveal the sleek white swimsuit underneath.
“Lingerie. Fancy ladies’ underwear?” She could hear the smile in his words. It was a reaction she’d seen before when she described her business.
“Designer lingerie. French and Italian and New York designers. Very expensive stuff. Also very beautiful,” she stressed as she peeled off her shirt.
“Wait a second. You’re telling me you sell sexy underwear?” he demanded, turquoise eyes brimming with laughter. “You’re in a business like that and you have the nerve to criticize my profession?”
“It’s hardly the same thing,” she sniffed, flinging off the last of her clothing and heading determinedly for the water’s edge.
But he was laughing delightedly behind her as she dove into the light surf. Amy wondered how often he laughed out loud like that. It was a surprisingly pleasant sound, full of rich, masculine amusement. It made her want to smile.
He caught up with her a moment later, his body moving through the warm water with a lithe grace that told her how he kept himself in such strong, sleek shape.
Amy was swimming easily, no particular direction in mind, when she felt Jase’s hand on her waist. The strong fingers closed gently, snagging her neatly in the water and pulling her upright to face him.
She stood breast-high in the lapping water and looked up at him inquiringly. He handed her a face mask and a snorkel that he had brought with him into the sea. “Thought you might like to come with me and look at some fish,” he invited. “There are some beauties around here.”
The remainder of the afternoon was a moment out of time for Amy. Together with Jase she explored the fascinating and brilliantly beautiful underwater world of the small cove. They sunned themselves on the sand between swims and munched sandwiches Jase had brought along.
But far more fascinating than the aquatic life he was showing her was Jase, himself. As the afternoon progressed, he seemed to grow increasingly relaxed and easygoing. By the time they climbed back into the Jeep to return to town, Amy was almost able to forget that the man she was with was a man who made his living running a bar on a distant island in the Pacific. This Jase Lassiter was a man she could like—a man who, if he lived in San Francisco, she would be willing to date.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, shifting gears in the Jeep.
“I was wondering how you ended up here on Saint Clair,” she told him honestly.
At once she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. A great deal of the easy, lighthearted enthusiasm went out of his face in an instant. “It’s a long story. One I’m sure you’d find uninspiring.”
“Meaning you don’t want to tell me?” she pressed gently.
“Do you want to tell me what you’re doing on Saint Clair?” he tossed back. “I’ll swap tales if you like.”
“No, thanks.” It was her turn to revert to a more distant attitude. “My story is a little complicated.”
“Meaning it’s none of my business, right?” he clarified grimly.
“Yes.” She spoke very firmly
“Then we appear to be at an impasse,” Jase noted politely. “I suggest we find another topic.”
“Before we manage to ruin the day?” she quipped with a flippancy she wasn’t really feeling.
“Exactly. Are you going to come over to The Serpent tonight?”
“Unless the man I’m waiting for finds me before this evening, yes.”
Jase gave her a laconic smile “You can sit with me and get the inside story on how to run a sleazy Pacific island bar.”
Amy didn’t respond to that, knowing he was deliberately goading her and also knowing that she probably had no real choice in the matter of how she spent the evening in The Serpent. There, she was in his territory. If he chose to spend the evening with her, there wasn’t much she could do about it. And from what she had seen of the clientele the previous night, having the owner of the club as an escort probably wasn’t a bad idea.
“Thank you for the invitation,” she said demurely.
“It wasn’t precisely an invitation,” Jase growled.
“I’m aware of that. I was trying to pretend you meant it as such.
“Because it makes it easier for you to acquiesce?” The perceptive glance he gave her held a baiting quality now, and Amy knew she was being punished a little for her refusal to explain her presence on his island.
“Jase, I’m aware that in The Serpent you give the orders,” she said quietly.
He relented, the corner of his mouth crooking upward. “Not a very large kingdom, but I am in charge of it.”
“Do you enjoy ruling it?” she flung back, suddenly very interested in the answer. Did he truly like being who he was, where he was?
“I get by.” It was clearly all he intended to say about the subject.
“I’ll bet.” Amy decided she wasn’t nearly so willing to let the subject die. Not before she’d made a point. “You’re living out every male’s private fantasy. I’m sure you get by very well.”
He frowned. “Every male’s fantasy? Saint Clair? You’ve got to be joking!”
“Hardly.” She waved a negligent hand at the lush tropical surroundings. “Here you are running a successful bar in paradise. A life of adventure on a tropical island. Miles from the nearest lawn mower, screaming infants and nagging wife. What man wouldn’t give his soul to trade places with you? The perfect lifestyle. No responsibilities. Just sit back, drink a little rum, or maybe a lot of rum, and wait for a passing female tourist to pick you up for a night of uncommitted, free-spirited sex. Of course any man would envy you!”
“We can’t always have what we want in life,” Jase ground out brutally. Clearly she had hit a nerve. Amy decided to obey her instincts and back off that conversational topic at o
nce. Besides, she realized she didn’t want to hear him expound on the virtues of such an irresponsible life.
That evening she found herself grateful for Jase’s presence at the small table she occupied. From the outset it was obvious that several of the seamen off the Navy ship in the harbor had found their way into The Serpent. The place was packed with a rowdy, enthusiastic crowd of men, and it would have been awkward indeed to be a lone female sitting at a table.
“Picturesque, isn’t it?” Jase demanded wickedly above the din of raucous male laughter.
“You spend a lot of your evenings like this?” Amy flicked a disparaging glance around at the lively crowd.
“Evenings like this are good for business,” Jase pointed out politely, but the turquoise eyes gleamed sardonically.
“Aren’t you worried that there may be a fight or something?”
“Boys will be boys. We can deal with it if it happens.”
“It happens a lot?” she asked worriedly, feeling more than a little uneasy at the thought.
“No, not a lot. The Serpent has a reputation: That sort of thing isn’t tolerated.”
“Which means you have a reputation for not tolerating brawls?” she corrected.
“The glassware is hard to replace,” he drawled. “Takes months to get a new shipment in from the States. No, I don’t encourage brawling.”
Amy shuddered. “I should hope not!” Then curiosity prompted her to pry further. “How long have you been running the place, Jase?”
“I started out as a bartender working for the previous owner about ten years ago. I bought The Serpent from him when he decided he’d had enough of island living and wanted to go back to the States.
“How old was he when he reached that monumental decision?”
In his sixties. George had a couple of kids he hadn’t seen in years. Found out he had grandchildren and realized he wanted to meet them.”
“I wonder what kind of reception he got from the children he’d ignored for so many years,” Amy muttered wryly.
Jase gave her a level glance. “I don’t know. Haven’t heard from him since he left. Maybe his kids decided to be charitable.”
“Maybe. I’m not sure I would be.”
“You sound like you’ve got some firsthand experience,” Jase observed dryly.
“My father left my sister and me to be raised alone by my mother when I was six,” she told him bluntly. “He couldn’t handle the responsibility of a family. It’s been my observation that a lot of men feel the same way.”
“You sound very sure of that,” he clipped out.
“Just take a look at the statistics. The number of women left to raise kids alone is pretty damn high. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re catering to a few of the runaway fathers right here in this room!”
“Now wait a minute, Amy. You’re not going to get away with blaming me for every runaway father who ever decided to head for the South Pacific!”
“I’m not blaming you, but you’ve got to admit that places like this certainly perpetuate the image of a pleasant, irresponsible, macho lifestyle that is very alluring to most men,” she began earnestly.
Her lecture was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. Startled, she swung around, aware that Jase was already on his feet.
“What in the world is happening?” she breathed. Across the room four seamen were wading into each other, fists flying. With the frightening speed of an erupting volcano, a full-scale brawl was blossoming.
“This is what we call atmosphere,” Jase explained laconically. Then he was gone, forging a path through the ring of cheering, yelling spectators.
Amy was appalled by the savagery of the fighting. The male of the species could be so very dangerous and seemed to have so little control over his own violent instincts, she thought. A few minutes earlier the bar had been filled with laughter. Now the sickening thud of fist striking flesh ricocheted around the room.
She watched, unable to tear her gaze away, as Jase arrived at the center of the small hurricane. The four fighting men seemed unaware of his presence, although everyone else in the room was waiting expectantly.
“All right, Ray, let’s cool these folks down a bit,” Jase said calmly.
“Right, boss.” Ray ducked down behind the bar for a moment.
The level of expectancy in the crowd went up a few more notches. Amy could sense it. It was as if a lot of the watchers knew what was going to happen next and looked forward to it.
When Ray appeared again, he was holding a small garden hose in his hand. A stream of water poured forth, showering the four fighters. A cheer went up as the brawling men staggered apart in astonishment.
Before they could figure out exactly what was happening, Jase was between them, his expression placid as the water was turned off by Ray.
“Gentlemen,” he said in a smooth voice that brooked no argument, “we don’t allow that kind of thing around here. If you want to exercise your inalienable right to fight, you’ll have to continue outside. I’m sure the shore patrol will be happy to referee. Now, I’d certainly appreciate it if you would kindly take your leave.”
The words were softly spoken, but the four dripping men paid heed. The mild threat of calling the ship’s own police apparently did not go unnoticed either.
But Amy knew it wasn’t the garden hose or the soft-spoken command that had the effect of sending the four grumbling men toward the door. It was Jase himself. The easy, self-confident power was very much in evidence. Tall, assured and casual, arrogantly in command of the room and the situation, he dealt with the four brawlers. There was no doubt that the remaining inhabitants of the bar were satisfied with the performance. Clearly they had got what they expected.
And then, just as it seemed everything was under control, one of the four men who had been banished turned away from the door, an expression of frustrated rage on his features. Plainly the crowd’s derisive laughter was too much for his already bruised ego.
A knife flashed in his hand as he launched himself at Jase.
“Think you’re so smart, you bastard? Let’s see you handle this!”
What happened next nearly paralyzed Amy with shock. She went cold, literally frozen to the spot, as the enraged man leaped toward Jase, the knife already arcing through the air.
Jase’s response was unbelievably fast. His arm came up, blocking the attacker’s forearm. The knife went flying uselessly across the damp floor. Thrown off balance by the parrying blow, the seaman slipped in a puddle of water and went down flat on his back.
Before he could even raise his head, there was cold steel lying along his throat. It had appeared in Jase’s hand as if my magic.
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear,” Jase growled in a voice that matched the blade he was holding to the other man’s throat. “Here at The Serpent, we don’t encourage any sort of roughhousing.”
For what must have seemed an excruciatingly long moment to his victim, he continued to let the sailor feel the edge of the blade. No one in the room moved. Then Jase stepped back, handing the knife over to Ray, who calmly replaced it within easy reach.
“Get him out of here,” Jase ordered quietly, nodding at the other three men who had been involved in the fight. “And if the four of you manage to stay out of The Serpent, I will refrain from notifying your superior officer. Show up here again and you’re going to find yourselves explaining everything to him. Take your choice.”
Not surprisingly the four men staggered out the door. A collective sigh went through the room—one of satisfaction.
But Amy didn’t feel the relief and satisfaction that everyone else in the bar seemed to be experiencing. She continued to stand where she was, staring with undisguised horror and disgust at the man who had handled the whole mess as if he did such things routinely.
For as long as she lived, Amy knew she
would remember the sight of Jase’s deadly blade lying along a man’s throat. She’d never been so close to genuine violence in her life, and the sight of it effectively destroyed the beginnings of the cautious, friendly relationship that had started to grow that afternoon in the cove.
How could she have ignored, even temporarily, the reality of this rough island world? How could she have failed to realize that, in a place like this, Jase Lassiter wouldn’t command respect simply by running a successful business and being a pillar of the community! Out here a man held his own with violence if necessary. It was part of the male fantasy.
Except that it wasn’t fantasy. It was far too real.
Shocked and furiously angry with herself at the knowledge that she had felt any kind of attraction at all for such a man, Amy finally regained control of her frozen limbs, managing to send her wineglass tumbling in the process.
“Amy!”
She saw Jase’s startled frown as she tore herself away from the table and ran for the nearest exit,. But he was too far away to stop her. Before he could get across the floor, Amy was rushing out into the night, heading for the limited security of her room at the inn. Behind her, red wine dripped over the edge of the table.
Not looking back to see whether or not Jase was attempting to follow, Amy raced toward the Marina Inn, slowing down only as she entered the lobby and came face-to-face with a very curious Sam.
“Somethin’ wrong, ma’am?” he asked with a measure of concern.
“Yes. No. Never mind,” she mumbled distractedly. “I’ve just witnessed how you folks handle trouble in this town, that’s all,” she went on grimly, heading for the stairs.
“Uh-oh. A little trouble down at The Serpent?” Sam’s chair, which had been tilted back on two legs against the wall, came down on all four as he leaned forward.
“You could say that. Except that I gather that sort of thing is fairly routine around here!” Amy was already halfway up the stairs.
“Jase usually handles it pretty good,” Sam ventured, watching her retreating figure.
Serpent in Paradise Page 4
