Didn’t Jase realize that what he had asked of her tonight when he’d wanted her to share his bed could easily put her in a similar state? If she were to go into his room now, she would be asking for the hell of falling in love with a man who had already said the relationship was impossible.
The wrong place at the wrong time. And the wrong people into the bargain.
But the urge to give this particular man the one thing he asked of her was too overwhelming to ignore. Her eyes were wide open as she stepped through the window and onto the veranda. Open figuratively and literally. Tomorrow morning she would not be able to say she didn’t know what had come over her.
At the open window of his room Amy paused, trying to make out the shadows within. The sheet that covered Jase to the waist was a white patch in the darkness, beckoning her closer. His tanned, smoothly muscled torso was visible above the white edge as she moved into the room on silent feet. Was he awake? He didn’t stir as she approached.
“Jase?” His name was a near-silent whisper on her lips as she walked slowly to the edge of the bed. He didn’t move. He was sprawled on the bed in an arrogant, utterly relaxed manner, his hair tousled and dark against the white pillow. He was lying on his stomach, his face turned away from her. Amy wanted to reach out and run her fingers through the heavy mahogany pelt of his hair.
Cautiously she sank down onto the edge of the bed, not quite knowing how to go about making him aware of her presence. She put out a hand and touched his broad shoulder with her fingertips.
“It’s about time you got here,” Jase muttered thickly. “I was going out of my head.” He turned on his side with a speed that indicated he’d never been asleep at all. Flinging an arm around her waist, he tumbled her down beside him, covering her legs with one of his own as he bent his head to kiss her startled mouth.
“Ah, Jase, you’re an arrogant, greedy man and I shouldn’t be here,” Amy breathed, her arms going around his neck as his hand found the hardening tip of her breast.
“I know, I know. But don’t ask me to let you go now that you are here. I couldn’t do it!” He cut off her next words by filling her mouth with his thrusting, searching tongue as if he had been starving for the taste of her.
She felt the weight of him crushing her against the bed, and the satiny skirts of her nightgown seemed to willingly wrap the rough length of his thigh.
His hard, naked frame pressed down on her, excitingly masculine against her softness. The words he groaned into her mouth and then into her ear were thick with desire and the hunger she had sensed in him.
She was dimly aware that he was trying to hold himself in check tonight. He was trying to make the pace of their lovemaking a slow and voluptuous one. The fact that the action seemed to strain his willpower thrilled her. Amy realized that she, too, was feeling somewhat greedy and arrogant. She wanted Jase to be compelled by her, to be enthralled by her, to be overwhelmed. There was a primitive delight in knowing she had a spark of the primeval feminine power. One of the greatest gifts Jase gave her in the throes of their lovemaking was a sense of that power.
Strong, exquisitely sensitive hands traveled down her body, removing the beautiful gown with care. When she was free of it, Jase raised himself on his elbow to gaze down at her. Amy lay slightly curved against him, her hair flowing back over his arm, one leg arched at the knee. She splayed her fingertips against his chest, glorying in the feel of him.
Then he shifted, eyes gleaming in the shadows, and knelt between her legs.
“Jase?”
“I want to learn every inch of you, sweetheart.” Leaning forward, he braced himself on his arms and began dropping slow, heated kisses across her stomach. Amy sighed with mounting desire. His teasing, exciting mouth moved lower, taking tiny erotic nips along her thigh until she thought she would go crazy with the level of her own passion. Time ceased to flow in its normal pattern. The night glowed.
Jase’s fingers found the ultrasensitive core of her first, and then she gasped his name aloud as he replaced his hand with his lips.
“Jase, oh, Jase!”
She began to twist beneath him, her passion suddenly an ungovernable thing. Desperately she clung to his shoulders, trying to pull him up along her body and into her softness. Reluctantly he allowed himself to be urged into the final embrace, but when Amy felt the heavy, waiting hardness of him at the gate of her femininity, she knew he was more than ready himself.
Still he forced her to accept his deliberately slow pace, filling her with leisurely power. When she tried to arch her hips and draw him into her more quickly, he slipped a hand beneath her buttocks and held her still.
“We’re not going to do everything your way tonight,” he taunted with provocative roughness.
“You’re a beast,” she whispered, digging her nails into the tanned skin of his shoulders.
“But you’ll tame me eventually, won’t you, Beauty?” The damp, satiny warmth of her received him eagerly, even though his hardness seemed to fill her completely. As ready as she was for him, Jase’s body managed to shock her, just as it had the night before. Would it always be like this? No, not always. She could not have Jase for always. Amy frantically pushed the haunting thought aside and clutched at the man above her.
Then all flickering thoughts of the future vanished as Jase established a pulsing, incredibly erotic rhythm. Amy gave herself up to it completely, twining her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck.
“Amy, sweet Amy! My God, woman, you consume me!”
When the rippling, shivering culmination of her passion took her, Amy could barely breathe under the force of it. She was aware of Jase locking her to him and knew he was taking a fierce satisfaction in her own pleasure. Then he was surging more quickly against her, and the soft explosion caught him up before it had released Amy.
A long time later Jase stirred beside her, turquoise eyes narrowed in lazy satisfaction. “I’m not going to ask why you came in here tonight, Amy. But thank you. I needed you.”
She lay quietly in the circle of his arms as he drifted off to sleep. They had both been right every step of the way. She shouldn’t have sought out his bed. She probably should never have come to Saint Clair. Heaven help her, she was in love with a man she could never have. Jase Lassiter had given up on commitments and civilization and everything else that she herself valued.
Amy was aware of the time crawling past on the ceiling of the room. The pattern of the night shadows changed slowly but inevitably. She dozed at odd intervals, aware of the heavy, utterly satiated sleep of the man beside her.
It wasn’t until the first vague light of dawn began to lighten the sky outside the window that Amy remembered the note in her suitcase.
The real business of her visit to Saint Clair had to be dealt with this morning, she realized suddenly. And Jase could not be a part of it.
Slowly, with infinite care and a kind of sadness, Amy slipped out of his bed. At the window she turned to glance once more at the sleeping form of the man who had made such passionate love to her during the night. Soon she would have to say good-bye to him. After she had finished her task here on the island, there would be no reason to stay. Her souvenir of the visit to Saint Clair would be the memories of Jase. The knowledge tugged at her heart.
Picking up the nightgown she had worn to his room, Amy hurried out onto the veranda and into her own bedroom. There she dressed in haste, pulling on jeans and a boat-neck T-shirt. Then she grabbed the roomy handbag she had brought with her to Saint Clair and let herself out of Jase’s house.
Dawn on Saint Clair was the one pleasantly cool time of day. The air was not yet heavy with humidity, which would intensify later. The sky was wonderfully, brilliantly, clear. The ocean seemed more peaceful at this hour, too, and there were few people moving around the docks. Sometime during the night the Navy ship had left.
She strode along the quay,
the leather strap of the large purse hanging over her shoulder. No one paid her any attention as she made her way to number fifty-three. The small building was a dilapidated old wooden structure, probably a storage locker. Scanning the area, Amy searched anxiously for the tall man with the blond hair.
For the first time she was able to put the memories of the night out of her head long enough to feel nervous. She really knew nothing about Dirk Haley except that he claimed to have been a friend of Ty’s. There was no reason to doubt that part from the evidence he had provided in his short cables.
But why the secrecy of their meeting? Why had he been so insistent on having her come alone? She was glad she had taken the one precaution of not bringing the mask with her. Dirk Haley would provide her with the truth first, and then she would decide whether or not to hand over the mask.
He came around the corner of the old building with a silent suddenness that startled her. For a second they gazed at each other assessingly. Amy felt her pulse racing anxiously as she took in the blond hair, hard gray eyes and rangy build of the man in front of her. He was dressed in jeans and an old battered leather flight jacket. That caught her attention for some reason. It was pleasantly cool this morning, but not cool enough to require a leather jacket. He was a man who might have been handsome in a boyish way if it hadn’t been for the coldness of his gray eyes. There was a hard, sullen slant to his mouth that vanished instantly when he smiled with a too-easy charm. It reminded her of Ty.
“Amy Shannon?” he drawled in a cool, faint southern accent. The gray eyes flickered over her and lingered on the large purse hanging from her shoulder.
“That’s right. You’re Dirk Haley?” She found herself wanting to step back from him and resisted the urge. She must keep cool and remain poised and self-confident. She was here to bargain.
“At your service. Bring the mask?”
“We have some talking to do first,” she reminded him steadily, instinctively clutching the bag more tightly.
He saw the small gesture and nodded once.
“The mask rightfully belongs to Ty’s son. I want to know why it’s so valuable to you and I want to know where Ty is today.”
Dirk Haley leaned against the wall of the old storage building and regarded her coolly. “Why didn’t his wife come?”
“That’s not important. I’m here in her place.”
He nodded again. “I figured out who you were by listening to some bar gossip. You must be a hot little thing. Not on the island more than a day and already making it with one of the locals. Picked an important one too. Lassiter’s a force to be reckoned with on Saint Clair, I’m told. For what that’s worth!” Haley added with a dry chuckle. “Big fish in a small pond. But then, it doesn’t take much to be important out here. Just some money and a slightly dangerous reputation. I’m going to make myself into a similar pillar of the community, but I think I’ll pick a different island. Something tells me Saint Clair isn’t big enough for Lassiter and me both. That’s okay. There are a lot of islands left.”
Amy experienced a frisson of genuine fear as she watched his face. Ignoring the insult, she asked softly, “Is the mask going to buy you that status, Mr. Haley?”
“Yes, Miss Shannon,” he retorted in mockingly polite tones, “the mask is going to buy me that. Also a new name, a new passport and a few other essentials of life out here. I’m afraid I really can’t allow you to take it back to Ty’s kid.”
“What’s so important about it?” she persisted, her fingers whitening as she held on to the strap of her bag for dear life. Good Lord, what had she gotten into? Jase would be furious. Ludicrous as it was, that was the main thought that seemed to be dominating her mind at that moment.
What the hell was she doing standing out here all alone on a deserted dock, dealing with a man who was turning out to be very much more dangerous than she’d expected? She could almost hear Jase demanding the answer to that question now. Thank heaven she hadn’t brought the mask with her. It might very well turn out to be her ticket out of this uneasy situation.
“I think you’d be happier not knowing why I want that damned mask,” Haley drawled. “Something tells me you might not approve.”
“I want to know about it and I want to know about Ty!” She managed to keep her voice cool, injecting a touch of self-confident arrogance into it.
“Murdock is dead,” Haley told her carelessly.
Amy drew a deep breath. “Are you certain?”
The slow, menacing smile he gave her was frightening. “Very sure.”
Something clicked in her head and Amy stared at him, wide-eyed. “Did you kill him?”
He straightened away from the wall with a studied casualness that made her take a step backward. Real fear coursed through her veins now. “No, I didn’t kill him, but I’m not particularly sorry he’s dead. He presented something of a problem.”
“What problem?”
“You are full of questions, aren’t you, Miss Shannon?”
“I want to know for certain what happened to Ty Murdock!”
“He’s dead, I told you! You want proof?” Amy flinched automatically as he reached inside the flight jacket. But what he withdrew was only a US passport. With an arched brow he handed it to heir.
Hand shaking, Amy reached for the passport and flipped it open. It was Ty’s. The sardonic, handsome face smiled up at her, the familiar dark eyes full of mocking charm. A boy who had never really grown into a man. A boy who had wanted to go on playing boyish games. One of those games must have caused his death. She could think of no other reason for Dirk Haley to have Ty’s passport. Amy felt no real emotion as she gazed down at the picture of her nephew’s father, only a kind of sadness for the infant son waiting back in California. Her sister had been right. It was best to tell Craig that his father had intended to return someday, that the man had been killed on some exotic adventure. Who knows, Amy thought, perhaps it is the truth.
Slowly she raised her head and handed the passport back to Haley.
“You can keep it,” he told her. “I only brought it along because it was the one proof I had of his death. I couldn’t very well bring his head in a sack, could I?”
“You’re a very cold-blooded man, Mr. Haley,” Amy noted distantly.
“I’m a survivor. Unlike Murdock. Now, let’s have that mask.” He reached for the purse slung over her shoulder, but Amy stepped back once more, gathering her courage. “I’m afraid I don’t have it with me.”
“The hell you don’t!” he ground out savagely. “Where is it?”
“It’s hidden. I meant what I said. That mask is my nephew’s only legacy from his father. I want to know the true value of it before I decide what to do with it.”
“You never did intend to hand it over, did you?” he hissed with a perception that surprised her. “You lying little bitch! You only struck the bargain because you wanted me to tell you why the mask is important!”
“If... if you can prove you have a right to the mask, I’m willing to turn it over,” Amy protested, very scared. “Otherwise I think it should go to Craig.”
The gun appeared in his hand as if out of nowhere. One moment Haley’s palm was empty, the next it flashed with the lethal metal nose of a revolver that was pointed at her.
The shock of it was stunning. Amy stood rooted to the spot for an instant, and then blindly she whirled around, as if to run. It was pointless to run from a bullet, her embattled brain warned her, but there was nothing else to do. Perhaps he wouldn’t kill her until he had the mask!
In any event she never got beyond the edge of the old storage locker. Haley’s palm clamped over her mouth and the muzzle of the gun was cold and hard near her ear.
“You don’t really think I’m going to let some lying, scheming female cheat me out of what I want, now do you?” he gritted, compelling her to move back against him. “That mask is mine a
nd I’m going to get it without playing any more of your stupid games! Get in the boat.”
Amy tried to go limp in his grasp, but he held her easily, nearly tossing her headlong into a large cruiser tied up alongside the quay. She opened her mouth to scream as he temporarily released her, but he lifted the gun threateningly.
“I won’t kill you, at least not yet,” he muttered, “but I’ll use this thing as a club if you don’t keep still. Unless you want to spend the next couple of hours unconscious, you’d better behave.”
Haley never took his eyes off her as he loosened the boat from its moorings. Then he shoved her into the cabin and locked the door from the outside. Amy watched helplessly as the engines started and the relative safety of Saint Clair slipped out of reach.
Chapter Seven
Amy sat huddled in the cabin as Dirk Haley guided the large cruiser to the far end of Saint Clair. She watched the coastline as it drifted past outside the window and wondered dully what Haley intended. A quick search of the sparsely furnished cabin had yielded nothing useful, not even a kitchen knife. What next?
Saint Clair was virtually uninhabited outside of its single town, so it was not surprising that when Haley finally anchored the boat in a cove, Amy saw no sign of life ashore. When he unlocked the cabin door, she swung around to glare at him, struggling to conceal her fear.
“Looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” he muttered, shifting the gun to his left hand and reaching for her arm. “Come on.”
“Killing me isn’t going to do you any good.” Her mouth was suddenly dry as he yanked her out of the cabin and up on deck. “I’m your only link to that mask!” She had to keep calm, keep bargaining. It was her only hope.
“You’re my link to the mask, all right, but not in the way you think. You’d better hope you made a good impression on Lassiter while you were in his bed.”
Serpent in Paradise Page 11
