“Here, why don’t you take my basket. I only need a few things.”
I looked at his perfect basket. Inside it lay a small jar of peanut butter, three apples, a disposable razor, and a tube of toothpaste.
“Is that all you’re getting?”
He nodded. “I have a craving for apples and peanut butter.”
I thought about that. The idea didn’t sit well with my stomach. Apples and caramel sauce was okay, but peanut butter?
“Be careful. People will think you’re pregnant.”
We both laughed. I liked the sound of his voice. I was thinking of Orlando just minutes ago and now this brown-eyed stranger had pushed him aside.
“I’m serious about the basket,” he said. “I’m done anyway. Just one or two more things and I’ll be done.”
“I can’t do that. This one will be fine.”
“I insist.” He took the meager contents out of his basket and put them on the bags of potatoes. Then he transferred my salad fixings into the unbroken basket and handed it to me.
“Thank you,” I said. “You live here, I take it?” I wanted to stay and talk to him more. It wasn’t often I ran across a true gentleman. I knew I should go, pay for my salad and go back to the house, but we were on this island to meet men, and this one was just my type. Meaning he in no way reminded me of Orlando. I could only hope he was high on the other attributes the three of us had mapped out before making this journey.
“I live in DC.”
“But I thought …” I said, looking at the food about me as if it could answer my unasked question.
“I’m here for the jazz concerts and a little R and R. I also have an aunt here on the Vineyard. I come up a couple of times a year to make sure she’s all right and to see if the house needs any repairs.”
“That’s wonderful.” I looked at him then. Really looked. He was tall with dark skin and short hair. He had a mustache and dark eyes, piercing, probing, look-into-your-mind eyes. His voice was deep, almost radio DJ quality. And he was honorable.
“But she doesn’t have any peanut butter or apples,” he said.
I smiled. Conversation had come to an end. We couldn’t stand there in the produce aisle forever. There were other people trying to get around of us.
“Thank you for the basket,” I said, giving it a little swing. I turned to walk away.
“Have you eaten yet?” he asked.
I turned back. “What?” I hedged for time.
“Have you had lunch?”
I looked in the basket. “This is my lunch.”
“Just that?”
That was all I was intending, but I found myself saying, “I haven’t finished shopping yet.”
“Would you like to have lunch with me?”
The question took my full attention. I didn’t want to eat alone, and how could I say no when inside me a field of butterflies escaped?
“How could you tell I hate eating alone?” I replied in answer to his question, while giving him one of my brightest smiles.
“Then I suppose we should exchange names. I’m Clay Reynolds.”
“Lila Easton.” For the second time that day, I was introducing myself to a man.
Clay fell into step beside me and we walked about the tiny store, picking up meat and vegetables, staples, everything a well-appointed kitchen needed. By the time we left the store, I had two bags in my arms, Clay had another two in his, and I had no idea how to cook any of it.
Chapter 4
What was going on? I could not believe my eyes as I looked out the front window. Jack in the arms of some stranger, a man who looked liked he dug ditches for a living. He wore riding boots with jeans stuffed into the tops. Mud caked the boots and most of his pants. A stable boy. She was with the stable boy. All these rich guys for the taking, and wasn’t it like Jack to find the poorest of the poor?
I went to the door and swung it open just as he reached the stairs. Without a word, I stepped back, allowing him access to the room with the load he carried.
“You can put her down over there.” I indicated the sofa. He gently laid her down. Jack smiled up at him like he was the cure for cancer and she was riddled with the disease.
“Thank you,” she cooed, her smile as beguiling as someone with a secret she was dying to share.
“It was my pleasure.” His voice was smooth, like water running over silk. I recognized the look on Jack’s face. She was about to find the next Mr. Wrong.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” I said, flatly.
Jack glared at me a moment before turning back to the stable hand. “This is one of my roommates for the summer,” she said. “Amber Nash, Harley Prentiss.” She waved her hand between the two of us.
Harley straightened, glancing at me as if he’d forgotten I was in the room. Turning back, he looked at Jack. Using a gesture straight out of a Wesley Snipes movie, he clicked his tongue, winked, snapped the fingers on both hands, pointed his index fingers at her, and said, “Be well.”
Give me a break, I groaned inwardly, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. It was time for action, and I was here to act.
Taking his arm, I moved him around. Away from Jack. “Thank you, Harley, but she can’t get well until I can look at that ankle.”
“Are you a doctor?” he asked.
I kept ushering him toward the entrance. “I am today,” I said.
Pushing him outside, I closed the door and returned to my invalid friend. Crossing my arms, I stared down at her. “Jack, why are we here?”
“My ankle,” she said weakly, pointing at her leg as if that’s where the answer lay. I glanced at her naked feet. Wherever her boots were, Mr. Wrong hadn’t brought them with the package he was carrying.
“Jack?” Moving my hands to my hips, I raised one eyebrow and leaned forward. She knew what that meant.
“I fell off the horse. He was just nice enough to bring me back. That’s all.”
“That’s all,” I nearly shouted. “Jack, the man was practically making love to you with me in the room. And you—” I went on, cutting off the protest I could see coming. “You looked like you were itching for him to go ahead.”
“I was not!”
“Could you remember why we’re here? And if you forget that, remember your life savings are tied up in the deal.”
Jack looked nonplussed. Then anger came to her aid. “What do you suggest? We’re here now, and I thought I was doing what we planned. I went horseback riding. Didn’t you say men liked sports?”
“I did. But the stable boy is not the man I had in mind.”
“He’s not a stable boy. And even though his clothes were dirty, you don’t know that he wasn’t a guest on the island, that he likes horses, might even have enough money to own a few.”
I stared at her. “Does he, Jack? Is he a millionaire who likes to get his hands dirty, not to mention his face, arms, and clothes?”
She looked away, then back, almost in defiance. “We didn’t get around to discussing what he does for a living. I fell off the horse and he was there to rescue me. Amber, if you could have felt the strength in those arms …”
She trailed off when she saw the look I leveled on her.
“If not him, what is your suggestion?”
I thought for a moment. Don Randall’s invitation came to mind. I didn’t want to suggest that we go, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“There is a dance tonight in the St. Romaine. You’re bound to meet men there.”
“All right,” Jack acquiesced. “I’d better look for something to wear.” She got up and started to walk toward her room.
“By the way,” I said, after she’d taken several painless steps. “How’s the ankle?”
The ballroom was thick with people when we entered it later that night. I smiled. This was what we’d been looking for. While everyone had been clad in casual clothes or beach wear during the day, their ballroom attire could rival the gown department of any Fifth Avenue specialty shop. I c
ould almost smell the money. Hopefully, Jack and Lila could, too. And hopefully they would get back on track to our purpose here. First Jack had shown up with a stable hand and then Lila was in all smiles for a deliveryman. She’d been to the grocery store and bought food. What was she thinking?
We weren’t here to cook. Why did she assume we needed food in the kitchen? The place already had an abundance of bottled water and juices. I could understand it if she’d bought things to snack on—breakfast foods or even junk food would be acceptable—but she’d come in with meat that required a major effort in the oven. By the end of the summer it might come to us having to fix our own meals, but there was no reason to expect that would happen. I’d budgeted carefully, and barring any unforeseen circumstances, we’d barely need to enter the kitchen, let alone have it fully stocked.
And the guy she was with! Clay Reynolds, a furniture salesman. And more than that, the guy cooked us lunch. He wasn’t dirty like Harley Prentiss, and the food was delicious, but his mastery in the kitchen and his good looks didn’t count in this venture. We all knew even a good cook didn’t come with gold cards.
So, unfortunately, we were taking Don Randall up on his invitation to join the party this evening. Only he didn’t know it, and I hoped I could get through the night without having to eat crow.
“Let’s get a drink,” Lila suggested. Again she looked around the room as if her hunger was for more than the steaks she’d placed in the freezer earlier today.
I stifled the smile that came readily to my lips. At least now she was going in the right direction. Lila led us with Jack following. I hadn’t taken three steps before a voice stopped me.
“I see you changed your mind.”
A shiver ran down my spine. Don Randall was directly behind me. I could feel the heat of his body on my back. Granted, the cocktail dress I wore bared my skin halfway to my waist, and I wasn’t sure that Don wasn’t standing a bit too close. Plastering a smile on my face, I turned around, careful to make sure I put a little distance between us. I was prepared to greet him with a smile and a comment. But seeing him dressed in evening clothes, a black suit with a gleaming white shirt and black crossover tie, took my words away. He was gorgeous.
He reminded me of a movie star I’d once seen. When he appeared on the screen for the first time, I was so unprepared for his good looks that I melted down into my seat. I felt that way now, but locked my knees to keep from repeating that movie experience.
This wasn’t the first time I’d met Don Randall, but it was the first time the entire package was so completely attractive. This afternoon he’d been sexy, charming, and entertaining. Tonight he was devastating. My body acted like it knew his.
Or wanted to know it.
“Good evening, Don,” I said. “When I mentioned your invitation to my friends, they were eager to accept.”
“And that left you with no choice?” He raised his eyebrows mockingly.
“Absolutely none.”
“I’d say I win, in that case. Would you like to dance?”
He extended his arm toward the dance floor. At that moment the live band began to play “The Greatest Love of All.” The tempo was slow and the song was long. I knew being in his arms would be another test, but I prided myself on being up for the challenge.
I lost the contest the moment he turned me into that rock-hard chest of his and put a hand on my naked skin. His arms held me tightly against him. The music conspired in my head and I forced my eyes to remain open, refusing to let them close, knowing if they did I would sink into that pleasant place that seemed to find me each time I met a man who would leave me heartbroken and lonely.
And I hated to think it, but Don Randall had heartbreak written on those finely shaped and very kissable lips that were a mere inch from my own.
He hummed in my ear. I felt his voice rumble against my stomach. The sensation was warming, more than warm, titillating, erotic even, but I fought it, stumbling over his feet in the process.
“Excuse me,” I said.
He leaned back and I smelled his clean breath. He said nothing, but the look of need in his eyes could fill volumes at the New York City Library. His hand ran slowly up my back. The sigh that escaped my throat told him what he was doing to me. Averting my eyes, I leaned against him again. His chin rested on my temple. I felt the change in his jaw and knew he was smiling. I was his conquest and he was getting over.
By the time the music ended, I was wet not only with perspiration but with sexual desire. I wanted this man. And sooner or later I knew I would have him, but only for an appetizer. He was not the main course.
Don didn’t immediately release me as the last note died. He did something totally unexpected. Even I never saw this coming.
“Thank you for the dance,” he whispered in my ear, his lips so close they kissed my skin, sending tendrils of electrical sensation through me. Then as his head moved back from mine and I turned to acknowledge his comment, his mouth brushed across mine. The actual touching was barely an instant long, but it was deliberate, designed to let me know that what I’d put into the dance had been communicated to him. He knew my feelings and he wanted me to know that he knew.
His hands skimmed down my arms to my fingers, and after a charged moment he let go. I needed a drink.
And a shower.
Not even thinking of what happened to Lila and Amber, I headed for the bar. Water would probably be the best thing to drink, but after that dance I needed tequila. A full bottle and a fresh lemon would be the order of the day, but since that would be foolhardy and I wasn’t going to let it happen, I settled for a tequila sunrise.
An hour later I had done little except follow Don’s movements around the room. Jack was having a great time with the son of a man who owned his own investment company. I approved of second-generation money. The sons didn’t have problems with spending money, lavishing it on the women they loved. Love hadn’t happened yet, but in time it could. I remembered Jack’s statement: it was just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one.
Don Randall’s image jumped into my mind. I’d admonished both Lila and Jack about their choices in men, yet I’d done the same thing with Don. It wouldn’t take much to get me into his arms, not to mention his bed, yet he hadn’t come near me since my initial entrance.
But I’d kept tabs on him.
Frustrated with what I was doing, I knew it was time to go. I found Lila first. The tall, sexy brunette was working her magic with a man easily twice her age. She excused herself when she saw me coming.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Great,” she said. “He’s a banker from Illinois, newly divorced, and probably looking for someone to replace the older model.”
“Be careful, he’s probably got grown children who won’t take kindly to you.”
“He does.” She took a moment to glance at him and give him a sexy finger wave. “One of them, a daughter, is here. I haven’t met her yet. How are things with you? I saw you and that guy from the beach practically stuck to each other.”
Lila’s comment caused a flush of blood and heat to infuse my body. Don came to mind and the flesh-and-blood man crossed my field of vision. He was dancing with a woman about my age and she was looking at him as if he was chocolate candy. My teeth clamped down and I felt an instant dislike for her.
“He’s the hotel manager, not husband material.” Jack joined them at that moment.
“I am having a gre-at time,” she said, stretching the word into two syllables. She raised the glass of champagne in her hand and sipped the bubbly wine. “Coming here was the best idea. I am so glad you suggested it.”
“I can see you’re feeling no pain,” I said. “Just be sure to keep your head on straight.”
“I’m not and I will,” she said. “I met Gerard, and he likes big women.” She took a moment to do a little shake with her shoulders and hips before looking over her shoulder. “That’s him over there at the bar, getting me another drink.�
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I looked to the place she indicated. Gerard couldn’t be more than an inch talker than Jack if he was that. He looked like a football player, thick neck and arms.
“What does he do?” I asked.
“You’ll approve.” She smiled. “His father owns Niagara Investments and he’s one of the chief investors.”
“Good choice,” I said.
“So what’s up with you?” Jack asked, draining the last of the liquid in her fluted glass.
“I’m going to go back to the house.”
“What?” Lila said, looking surprised. “With all the men here, you’re going to pack it in and desert?”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“You were before we came,” Lila said. “Just what did that guy say to you?”
“It’s not him,” I protested, knowing she was right. Don Randall had spoiled my evening. All he’d done was dance with me. And whisper in my ear.
“Hey, this was your plan. Don’t change the rules in the middle of the game.”
“Don’t worry, Lila,” I said. “I’m seeing this through to the end.”
“Well, I have a ride back,” Jack informed us, still smiling at the man near the bar. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Me either,” Lila said. “Take the car.”
“Thanks, guys. You can tell me all about it in the morning.” Picking my way through the crowd, I headed for the door. Moments before I got there, Don Randall stepped in front of me. I wondered if he’d been following my movements as I had been following his.
“You’re not leaving?” he asked.
“That was my plan,” I answered, stepping around him and continuing toward the exit.
“The night is still young.” He fell into step with me.
“There will be other nights,” I countered.
“I suppose you have to get back to whatever was going to keep you busy tonight?”
I stopped halfway to the door. The ballroom could be reached through its own entrance and was across from the parking lot where I’d left the car. There was no one in the long anteroom. The suggestion Don gave me was an easy answer and I latched onto it. “Yes, I do.”
Some Like Them Rich Page 4
