by Cait London
“She’s not staying,” Alexi stated abruptly. This woman and he were at war and it sounded like his family was making permanent plans—
He already wanted Jessica in his bed, his lips tasting her skin, her body flowing beneath his—
But she wasn’t safe. Not a rich, spoiled, manipulative woman who knew how to play games and land on her feet. Not a woman with multiple surprising facets of loyalty, vulnerability and an almost naive innocence that she fought to hide beneath that sleek, polished exterior. The latter were probably well-honed for deception, he decided darkly.
Jessica turned to him slowly, her expression set. “I’m taking time to deal with a situation, no matter how long it takes.”
Alexi’s eyes locked with hers. He had his own situation to deal with—one of a spoiled woman demanding his services. Perhaps she needed to know how demands felt. “I am out of coffee. Get me some, please.”
Jessica didn’t move, her green eyes narrowing. Alexi could almost hear her silent reply—Get it yourself.
Then she smiled brightly and pushed back from the table. “Sure, bud. I’ll just do that.”
Then in passing, she riffled his hair as if he were a child. Instinctively, Alexi tensed, then he caught her wrist and stared up at her.
Still holding her eyes, wide and stunned now, he lowered his head. The kiss he placed in her palm was a challenge, not affection, he told himself.
In her suite at the Amoteh Resort, Jessica rubbed her hands together. She’d tried unsuccessfully to wipe away the feel of Alexi’s lips, the flick of his tongue in the center of her palm.
The man moved quickly, instinctive, following his emotions. She hadn’t expected either his kiss on her lips—“a crumb,” he’d explained unevenly—or that kiss in her palm. Her eyes narrowed with the next thought: Alexi could just be raising the stakes of the game, challenging her. Jessica shook her head. That wouldn’t do. She’d fought to survive and win all of her life—Alexi Stepanov would lose.
She pushed up the sleeve of her green merino wool sweater to reveal the wristwatch Robert had given her, and the emeralds caught her eye. He’d loved her green eyes—a sweet memory swept through her of how he had loved her, gently, unwaveringly, reassuring her constantly as, inexperienced, she’d moved in to take over his corporate position in Sterling Stops.
Her mind swung to another man, bold and arrogant and disdaining and proud. An irritating man who had tormented her. Alexi wasn’t the easygoing man that he appeared—there were all sorts of layers brooding deep inside him. And a startling hunger that could reach out to burn her. Sexuality wasn’t a commodity that had suited Jessica, and Alexi had definitely triggered a response she didn’t want. He was at Willow’s now, prowling through the situation for which Jessica was certain he could manage very well.
“Always use the best man for the job. That’s what my husband used to say.” After returning to the Amoteh Resort from the Stepanovs, courtesy of Mikhail, Jessica had promptly stepped into the shower. She had carefully refitted herself into the armor of cosmetics and dressed carefully in her slacks and sweater. The suite provided a business area and she was soon wrapped in work that wouldn’t wait. Howard had filled the message machine, grilling her about Alexi Stepanov and providing information she had already obtained—“He’s there preparing a retirement home for his father. Alexi Stepanov actually has nothing of his own. He tried to start a ranch and had to sell at a loss.”
Her queries showed that Alexi sold at a loss because he didn’t want to stay in Venus, Wyoming, or in the home his ex-fiancée had designed. Howard had been certain to slide in the next bit of information—“He’s after your money, Jessica. A down-on-his-luck cowboy, living off his father and looking for a meal ticket. My father would not like you taking up with him.”
“You don’t know what Robert would want, Howard,” Jessica stated coolly as she deleted all the messages and sat at the suite’s desk. She closed her eyes and thought of her husband’s last words. I want you to be happy, my dear. I blame myself for not spending enough time with Howard when he needed it. Promise me that you won’t ignore happiness when it finds you?
Jessica rubbed the palm Alexi had kissed against her thigh. The stirring of her senses, his arousal against her, the frame of his strong body around hers as they rode to the Stepanovs’ this morning, disturbed Jessica. Alexi Stepanov was six-feet-three inches of pure trouble, not happiness.
She looked out of the windows and thought of the Hawaiian chieftain who lay in his grave on Strawberry Hill, amid the low clouds and mist. He’d hated dying away from his homeland and had leveled a curse against the land he could not escape….
Alexi Stepanov was definitely Jessica’s curse.
But he was also a man that her instincts told her she could trust.
The bell over the door tinkled merrily as Alexi entered Willow’s Soaps. He noted that there was no burglar alarm or video camera. Aware of his size in the tiny, cluttered shop, Alexi moved carefully through the displays, the brochures about businesses in Amoteh and the tables filled with soap still in their molds.
In the off-season, the shop was quiet and scented. Alexi passed a stack of addressed shipping boxes. He noted a bowl of polished worry stones, probably from Ed and Bliss, who had settled in Amoteh. The parents of Leigh, Jarek Stepanov’s wife, were carefree souls fitting well into the Amoteh community. A variety of love beads seemed to shift and glitter as Alexi moved by them, reminding him of the gentle lecture Bliss had given him about listening to his inner self, to align his chakras and let his female side emerge. A neat stack of her tie-dyed T-shirts lay on the counter where Willow had evidently been wrapping bars of soap in waxed paper and raffia, carefully labeling them.
Willow suddenly popped up from beneath the counter, her masses of waving black hair bobbing as she stared at him. Her little glasses were perched at the end of her nose, and she was wearing a battered sweat suit. Her eyes were rounded and filled with fear—“Oh, I thought you might be someone else—”
Evidently flustered, she recovered quickly. “Hi, Alexi. I’m just wrapping soap. It’s a great ginseng and lemongrass blend. Smell—”
She pushed a tiny bar at him and added quickly, “For a woman, not a man. I don’t stock the shop fully this time of year, but still, I do pretty good at Christmas. And your cousin, Mikhail, is just super, ordering my strawberry soaps for the resort, and I love the strawberry logo, and he gave me a good supply of them to label the soaps. Are you here to pick them up? I’m sorry, I don’t have them ready, but I can deliver them right away. I just have to put the labels on them. I’m glad the gift shop is letting me put my shop’s information on them, and I might start a catalog for people who want to order later, and did you want to buy something?”
Willow seemed to be desperately trying to conceal her anxiety. Alexi dutifully smelled the soap and handed it back to her. At the dance she’d seemed relaxed and delightful; now she was obviously tense and distracted. “Is something wrong, Willow?”
She shook her head and that hair, parted in the middle, quivered softly around her head. “Nope,” she seemed to squeak in a high-pitched voice. “Just busy. I’m working on genealogy, you know, just getting the families of Amoteh, and I worked late last night. I have an apartment in the back and I heard a noise, and I—oh, it was nothing of course, but still I had a difficult time going back to sleep. It really was nothing, Alexi.”
Too earnest in her denial, Willow was evidently hiding something. “The dance at the resort last week was really nice,” she said quickly. “Thanks for dancing with me. I’m pretty clumsy. Um…did you come here for a special reason? I don’t want to take up your time by chattering on and on, and I do that, chatter on and on—and I know you’re busy working at the old Matthews place, fixing it up. And you bartend in your spare time, filling in. That’s sweet of you. Oh, I’m supposed to go get Mrs. Black and take her to the beauty shop, and I—something came up and I forgot. I’d better call. Look around.”
She
hurried through the curtains behind the counter and Alexi heard her punching telephone buttons. “Mrs. Black, I’m sorry I’m late, but something happened last night—yes, I live alone, too, and I thought I heard someone at the door. No, I didn’t call the police. It’s just been weird here lately. I’ll be right over. I just have to close the shop.”
Alexi looked down at the computer-printed note on the counter: “W. You have made me angry. You will pay.”
Jessica had been right; someone was bothering Willow, and she was obviously tense and upset. The telephone rang again and Willow answered cautiously, her voice hushed. “Please don’t call again. Please,” she pleaded.
Alexi picked up the bar of soap and compared the printing on the label to that of the warning note. It matched, but it could have been another machine like Willow’s. Or someone who had access to hers.
When Willow pushed through the curtains, she was obviously upset, tears in her eyes. The odd smell of onions wafted from her and she pushed a cell phone into her pocket.
“I’ll take these,” Alexi said, and placed one of Ed’s worry stones on the counter with some scented soap wrapped in raffia. “Do you know Jessica Sterling very well?”
Willow seemed nervous as she rang up his purchase. Then she looked over her glasses to Alexi and said very firmly, “She’s my dearest friend. I think the world of her, and she’s terrific. She’s very special. Her beauty isn’t only on the outside. I can’t tell you the amount of times she’s stepped in to help me, financially and emotionally. She needed a rest badly and I recommended the Amoteh Resort.”
The onion scent was strong near Willow, but Alexi followed the obvious hint she had delivered. “You’ve been crying, Willow. Is there something I can do to help?”
He’d given her the opportunity to explain the onion scent, that she’d been cooking and that the smell had made her cry. Instead Willow glanced fearfully back at the curtains concealing the back room. “No…I…There’s nothing wrong.”
She turned and with a frown stared at the young man peering into her shop window. She made a hand-swishing “shoo, get away” motion at him. “That’s Kapolo Jones. He’s Ryan’s friend—Ryan, Jarek’s brother-in-law. Kapolo and Ryan surfed together and Kapolo just came up from Australia. He’s told everyone he’s a direct descendant of Chief Kamakani. He isn’t. Kamakani was devoted to his one wife and Makamae died childless. That is well-documented, and he’s angry with me for disproving his claim. It’s like Elizabeth Price at the library telling everyone she’s a direct descendant of—never mind, but that can’t be true, either. I’ve got to go. Mrs. Black wants the discount the beauty shop offers today for tinting all-gray hair. Apparently blue is better. Do you mind?”
By two o’clock, Alexi had visited the library. The mention of Willow’s name had struck fire in the librarian’s eyes. She slammed down the Date Due stamp into the book of a waiting child. “I don’t who she thinks she is, but that Willow person is dead wrong. I know my family tree.”
Clearly, Willow had antagonized at least two locals—but she wasn’t afraid of them. Her tears were probably due to the strong onion scent, and Alexi had begun to doubt danger to her.
Not ready to go back to his house, Alexi fought the memory of Jessica in his bed. He walked along the beach, inhaling the ocean-scented air. In the distance, a warning buoy rode the dark waves, clanging softly.
Alexi promised that he would forget her expression as he’d kissed her hand, how her eyes had rounded, and the scent of her had filled his senses.
He looked out at the huge waves, the layer of clouds obscuring the horizon. Jessica Sterling was exactly the kind of woman who could tear him apart—and Alexi didn’t need a second go-round in that painful arena. He pushed back his hair and shook his head. But Jessica was nothing like Heather, not beneath the surface. There was too much heat, too much caring, too much sensuality. Or was that just one more deceitful example of how a woman could twist a man’s insides?
And he knew he couldn’t leave her alone. Not until he’d reached all the depths of her, explored them….
Alexi sat on a driftwood log, watched the seagulls forage amid the strands of seaweed and tiny shells. He poured the coffee from the thermos that Mary Jo had sent. He lifted his face to the wind and thought about the ancient Hawaiian’s curse upon Amoteh, damning it for eternity because he’d been shipwrecked and stranded in a land that wasn’t his.
Maybe the chieftain was lucky to live without the nettling presence of women, Alexi thought darkly.
And if Alexi had a curse, it was Jessica Sterling—as she had been this morning, sweet, vulnerable, a kitten at play. Alexi had seen his ex-fiancée at the same game—but with Heather, it was usually followed by a costly demand.
Jessica Sterling wanted something, too, but not for herself. She was all woman, soft and fragrant, and she knew how to bite back, how to defend herself, just the kind of woman who could tear a man’s pride into shreds.
“Alexi?” Willow’s soft voice interrupted his dark thoughts. “Mind if I share your log? You look so lonesome sitting here. The ocean makes this a peaceful spot, doesn’t it?”
Alexi nodded, but he doubted that with Jessica around that he would be having “peace” anytime soon. Jessica had stirred his deep need for sex, and he wasn’t a casual man, accepting one-night affairs to feed that elemental passion.
Moisture had steamed Willow’s glasses and made her hair stand out in a huge ball around her head. “Do you like it here? I do. You seem to like the ocean. I’m surprised, really. I’d think you’d miss the mountains. I really didn’t expect you to stay too long. The Stepanovs could have repaired that old house for your father.”
“I like the mountains. I was raised in Wyoming. But I like it here, too.”
“Good. I can’t wait to meet your father. It’s great that you’re remodeling his place, though…I’m worried about Jessica. She seems upset about something today, all off-center, and that’s not like her at all.”
Alexi turned to the slight noise of someone walking over the wet sand. Jessica was marching toward them, her expression disdainful as she picked her way over the clumps of seaweed. One strand caught her shoe and she paused, lifting her foot to pick it away. She released the seaweed to the sand with a look of distaste and impatiently brushed her hands.
A rich woman, Jessica was out to make trouble for him, determined to get her way, no matter what the cost.
“Oh, hi, Jessica. Sit down with us.” Willow looked up at Jessica, who was now scowling at Alexi.
“Are you sure I won’t be interrupting?” Jessica said tightly as Alexi blandly met her furious stare.
In an upscale fleece jacket with a hood and designer jeans, she had replaced her cosmetics and her steely veneer. Her eyes blazed at him, her mouth tight within its gloss. Those silky waves weren’t framing her face, an indication that she’d drawn it back into that sleek knot.
The sensual image of releasing that coil of hair into his hands stirred Alexi—just as he wanted to undo the woman, strip away all civilization between them, leaving nothing but heat and passion and pleasure.
Every instinct within Alexi told him that this woman could arouse and fascinate him like no other….
On the other hand, he’d already been torn apart by a woman just like this—one who knew how to get what she wanted….
Had Jessica used Howard, the man who had called her, and then moved on?
And had that affair been worth it to the man involved, the pleasure of having this woman?
Alexi lifted his face to the cold mist, inhaling it. She wanted something from him—to protect Willow, her friend. But what would Jessica want to sacrifice, to pay, other than money?
Jessica sat down beside Alexi, her anger simmering. She’d told him to stay away from Willow, who was sweet and innocent and not up to Alexi’s overpowering male appeal. Jessica didn’t seem to know that “potent” was a compliment to a man and her blushes had surprised him. For a sophisticated woman, Jessica
had surprisingly innocent edges to her.
Had his relationship to Heather been romantic? Or was it the satisfaction of needs—sexual and his biological needs for a home and children? And just maybe, the answer came back, Alexi did not want to know why he had planned a life with Heather. He’d known the reality of her coldness and yet—Was he so arrogant that he had thought he could make a loveless relationship become more?
Alexi looked down at Jessica’s running shoes, now covered with wet sand. “If you stay here very long, you might think about getting a suitable pair of shoes,” he said, reminding her of the expensive pair that had been ruined while hunting him last night.
Willow leaned in front of him to study Jessica on the other side. “Honey, you look absolutely drained. More business problems?”
“Not a problem in the world. I’ve just been sleeping and relaxing too much. I need something to do.” Jessica hadn’t been able to rest and she’d finally set out to run off her tension, caused by Alexi’s body holding her close on the ride to the Stepanovs’ and that burning, unforgettable kiss in her hand.
Jessica noted how close Willow leaned against Alexi, trusting him. That wouldn’t do. Willow formed deep attachments instantly and she was vulnerable and sweet. Alexi wasn’t. Jessica had seen his true, dark, brooding, tormenting, irritating personality. And he was obviously sexually hungry—his arousal was hard to miss.
His blue eyes were searching her face now and deeper, to the things Jessica wanted to hide. He slid her jacket hood back from her head and studied her hair, brushed into its neat chignon. “I like you better without all that paint.”
“Do you?” Suddenly, Alexi and Jessica seemed alone, tension sparking between them. “I…”
His hand had framed her face while the other hand was carefully removing pins. He dismissed her hands on his wrists, those soft fingers trying to waylay him. Alexi eased her waves around her face and he smiled softly, intimately, and Jessica’s heart flip-flopped slowly, heavily, in her chest. “Hi,” he said quietly.
