by Alicia Hope
‘Would you?’ He was still staring at the ocean.
Nice tactic, Royce, answering a question with a question. A little hint of the ruthless negotiator you’re purported to be? She gave a teasing snort. ‘I asked first.’
He lowered his head and chuckled before replying carefully, ‘I wouldn’t want to stay off the radar forever, but yes, there are times when I’d gladly trade the rat race and all that comes with it, for peace like this.’
‘Really?’
‘You sound surprised.’
Verity could see his strong face in profile. It looked less forbidding in the moonlight. ‘To be honest, yes. I thought you were … well....’
As she fumbled for the right words, Royce raised his head and smiled crookedly. ‘Let me guess, an inhuman, ruthless swine who only cares for power and status?’
Precisely what Ella had warned him against becoming, he reminded himself, and the very thing he came close to turning into, after losing her.
‘I don’t know if I would put it quite like that....’ Despite her protest, Verity knew he’d summed up her opinion of him, pretty much.
‘Well, considering some of the things I’ve done, I won’t blame you if you don’t believe this,’ he said gruffly, ‘but I’m not the ogre many people think I am.’ He paused, and when he spoke again Verity could hear a diffident smile in his voice. ‘Don’t believe all the hype. Under the suit I’m actually an OK guy.’ He threw a careful glance her way and then turned his attention back to the night sky. ‘But we were talking about island escapes. What about you? I can’t imagine you’d want to take the next exit out of the corporate madhouse.’
A night bird called sharply, piercing the still of the balmy darkness. They both waited silently until the night sounds settled again. Finally Verity said quietly, ‘Well, like you say, assumptions can be misleading, ‘cos sometimes that’s exactly what I’d like to do.’
‘But not now you’re CEO?’ He turned to face her and she subconsciously pulled her wrap closer about her shoulders.
She was wishing she’d gone inside when she had the chance, but she felt lulled by the night’s tranquillity, the gentle moonlight, the wine at dinner, and Royce’s openness. Intrigued by his talkative mood, she felt inclined to enjoy it while it lasted, so she leaned back in her chair and said, ‘It’s only a job, Royce. There’s a whole lot more to life than work, even if we forget it at times.’
Royce’s head jerked back. Verity had sounded so much like Ella. And Ella had said those same words to him more than once, when he was obsessing about his job and career. He regarded Verity through narrowed eyes and mumbled, ‘Well, not everyone is lucky enough to have anything other than work.’ He sighed and lowered his head, adding, ‘Or more than an empty house to greet them after hours.’
Verity was finding Royce’s proximity distracting. She felt caught in some sort of warm, invisible net, and for some reason, memories of the early days of her marriage surfaced.
She and David had moved to the lower south west after their wedding, and lived in a caravan for a while. He was on a low wage and she was studying fulltime, so they couldn’t afford a house or even a flat. Their first winter in the van had been savagely cold and damp. Suffering in the leaky, chilled metal box, they were always grateful to accept invitations to other homes.
Reg Edwards, a lonely widower, regularly had them to tea. Verity felt warm all over remembering the welcome that radiated from Reg’s place, which he always kept as clean and tidy as the day of his beloved wife’s funeral wake. On their arrival, he’d pile wood on the fire, from the fastidiously cut mountain of timber behind his shed, making the old house warm and cosy. They’d sit, absorbing the heat with relish, while the rain lashed against the windows. She and David never wanted to leave, and wished they could curl up on Reg’s lounge and sleep out the winter. And he was more than happy for them to stay as long as they liked.
‘If y’understand me, if y’understand me now, I enjoy your company, ’n I can’t abide a cold, empty house,’ he used to say in his funny British accent.
Curious that she was recalling this now, Verity returned to contemplating the night sky, while Royce seemed caught up in his own thoughts. She was thinking with affection that it wasn’t an empty house that welcomed her home now, but a dear tabby friend. But then another memory came to her mind, of the lounge room in the house she and David bought once she was working; of a much younger Three Bells Jack cowering in a corner while David lolled on the lounge, beer bottle in his hand, empties and puddles of spilled beer around his feet, slurring horrid accusations and sneering at her as though she was the most detestable being on the planet.
The warm feeling evaporated and Verity’s heart fell. Even being greeted by a cold, empty house was preferable to coming home to that. She looked over at Royce and surprised them both by bursting out with, ‘Have you ever been married?’
He hesitated for a fraction of a second and then rapped out,‘No, I haven’t,’ as though the words tasted bad.
‘Well, talking about wrong assumptions, don’t presume that being married, or just having someone waiting at home for you, is a guarantee of happiness.’
He caught the irony in her voice and turned curious eyes on her. ‘I take it you speak from experience?’
‘Well....’ Verity was already regretting having spoken so frankly. ‘Yes. And an unfortunate one.’ She paused, trying to control the emotions surging inside her, but her lips kept moving and the words erupted from them as though they’d been brewing just under the surface. ‘When you marry someone, you become a sacrifice to that union. You lose yourself in the jumble of your joint lives, and when it all crumbles around you, you end up searching the rubble for what remains of yourself.’ Her voice became a rasp, ‘And there’s often not much left that’s salvageable.’
Startled by her own bitter words, she quickly scrutinised Royce’s moonlit face, expecting to see contempt there. But what she saw looked awfully like compassion. She blinked. I must be seeing things, she thought, it is dark, after all.
Then he turned away, saying gruffly, ‘The same could be said about losing someone.’
Verity’s face puckered. What was it Claire had said once, about Royce losing a girlfriend in an accident? But this conversation was heading in a dangerous direction. Looking for safer ground, she forced a more casual note into her voice and offered, ‘Well, I guess we’ve all got our fair share of regrets.’
‘Yes....’ The one, sad word trailed off, and Royce lowered his eyes to stare at the ground again.
Verity frowned in consternation. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been overly dramatic. I guess I had more to drink at dinner than I thought.’ She gave a humourless laugh.
‘No apology necessary.’ Royce turned to look over his shoulder at her again. ‘So, you think marriage is a bad idea?’
She was desperate to let the subject drop. ‘Let’s just say that prior events in my life have left me with a ... well ... I guess you could call it a glass ceiling on my heart.’ Her forced laugh sounded hollow, and her attempt at a bright smile failed miserably.
‘But you know better than anyone, Verity, that glass ceilings are meant to be broken.’ He turned and moved nearer her as he spoke. His voice was low and gentle like a tender caress carried to her on the balmy night air. They were close enough for the breeze to waft his aftershave her way, and for him to breathe in her soft scent.
She hardened her heart and said, her words brittle, ‘And so are promises.’
‘Not all of them. Some never get the chance to be....’ Royce stood very still, lost in his thoughts, recalling the promise he’d intended to make to Ella but never did. And now never could.
Verity rose from her chair and stood gazing at him.
We all have painful secrets, even tough guys like you, Royce.
When his eyes refocused, he saw her standing straight-backed, chin raised, quietly regarding him. Her loose hair and pale nightgown floated around her in the breeze, and she seemed to
glow in the silvery moonlight. The image reminded him of a Greek goddess—one who could only be won, not conquered, he surprised himself by thinking.
‘It’s getting late, I’d better turn in. Big day tomorrow.’ She gave a small nod and headed towards the door, but stopped to say softly, ‘Goodnight, Royce.’
‘Yes, goodnight, Verity.’ His words followed her inside.
Verity quietly closed the door and the shutters, and leaned against them. Finally, she went over to the bed, pulled down the cover and slid between the crisp white sheets. She found herself inexplicably smiling as she lay there, going over their conversation in her mind. The island was revealing some surprises, and before surrendering to sleep, she wondered what others lay in store.
Royce watched as Verity slipped into her unit and closed the door behind her with a soft click. He stayed outside for a few minutes longer, gazing thoughtfully at the ocean and the night sky. Finally, he stretched and turned towards the doorway to his own unit. When he stepped inside, the hairs on his neck stood upright.
He was not alone. Someone was in his unit. Whipping around, he saw a figure sitting–sprawling–on the couch.
It was Kerry.
His eyes raked over her, taking in her provocative pose and dress.
A sheer black wrap, tied carelessly at her slim waist, did little to disguise the off-the-shoulder lace top, G-string with suspender belt, and black silk stockings beneath it. She half sat, half lay across the couch, tilting her head so her hair could cascade over her shoulders in glossy waves. On the glass-topped coffee table in front of her, she’d placed two champagne flutes and a bottle in an ice bucket.
Despite himself, Royce felt stirrings at the seductive scene, and when he took a calming breath, her sweet, musky perfume assaulted his senses. He made an effort to control his more primitive instincts. Raising a cool eyebrow, he said calmly, ‘Kerry. I wasn’t expecting you.’ Her low laugh seemed to reverberate along his spine, but he kept his voice neutral, adding, ‘Isn’t it customary to knock before entering another person’s room?’
She uncurled herself slightly to lean towards him, revealing more of her tantalising cleavage, and said huskily, ‘But Royce, I did knock, you just didn’t answer. I thought—or hoped?—you might’ve been in the shower.’
She was leaving him in no doubt of her intentions. He stared at her, willing himself to stay in control, but at the same time asking why he should fight it. He was no saint, he was a red-blooded man who enjoyed a casual fling every now and then, and Kerry was pursuing him of her own free will.
But Kerry wasn’t just a desirable woman. She was a co-worker.
And a wife....
‘Shall I pour the wine?’ Her voice was like a low purr, and when she leaned over the coffee table, her wrap fell open.
He inhaled sharply. His treacherous body was responding, his resistance was subsiding under a wave of pure, uncomplicated, lust. Kerry tilted her head to look at him from under her lashes, well aware of what she was doing, and her expression reminded him of a panther on the prowl.
His brow furrowed and he heard Ella’s voice in his ear.
Snap out of it! Don’t give in to the manipulative little cow. How would you ever face Jim again if you succumbed? He doesn’t deserve this. And what would Verity think?
Royce felt as though someone had thrown the ice bucket over him.
‘No thanks,’ he barked, ‘why don’t you take the bottle back to your room where you and Jim can share it.’
Kerry gave an impatient ‘humph’ and unfurled slowly to rise to her feet. ‘Jim who? Don’t worry about anyone else, tonight’s all about us.’ She walked over to stand so close to Royce her filmy wrap brushed his arm. She reached up to run a long fingernail down the opening of his partly undone shirt, stopping only when she hit a fastened button. Pursing her lips like a sulky child, she breathed, ‘You know, Royce, I went to a lot of trouble to facilitate some nocturnal island activities....’
He pushed her hand away and frowned. ‘What?’
‘Surely you didn’t think it was an accident our units are right beside each other?’
‘I hadn’t realised you, and Jim, were in the next unit,’ Royce growled, straightening to his full height and looking down on her.
Kerry felt the sting of disappointment. Anger flicked across her face, making her look ugly. ‘Oh, right. But of course you had realised that Verity was on the other side. I could hear the two of you getting all cosy out there, just before.’ Her predatory purr was gone, replaced by a plaintive mew, and Royce was finding it increasingly easy to resist her temptations.
‘Not that it’s any concern of yours,’ he said dispassionately, ‘but I only found that out when I happened to see her outside just now.’ A vision flashed into his mind of Verity, standing aglow in the moonlight, a shining woman. That scene felt a world away from the sordid one he found himself in now.
Kerry hissed, ‘After all my attempts to have her located as far away as possible, to give us some privacy, the damn resort went and put her beside you anyway.’ She struggled to regain a seductive tone. The heat of her jealousy was threatening to overwhelm her.
‘Well, you’ve certainly gone to some trouble, Kerry—’
‘Thank you, Royce. I did it for us.’ The purr returned, and she pushed herself against him.
Royce took a step back and carried on as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘But it’s a shame it was all for nothing. There is no us.’
Shaking off her irritation, Kerry fixed him with an intense gaze that oozed desire, and said huskily, ‘What do you mean? Of course there’s an “us”. I’m here, and you’re here. That’s all the “us” we need....’
Royce stood his ground stiffly as she moved in for the kill, winding her arms around his neck, and wrapping one smooth leg around his. She raised her face, whispering breathlessly, ‘And what I need now....’
But he didn’t bend his head to kiss her quivering, expectant mouth. He wrenched her arms down and grabbed her by the shoulders. Spinning her around, he began pushing her none too gently towards the door.
‘Royce, what are you doing? Oh, I see, you want to play rough. Well, that’s OK by me too—’
‘I think it’s time we said goodnight, Kerry,’ Royce said harshly in her ear as he propelled her towards the door. On the way, he bent to collect the wine bottle from the coffee table and the coat she had thrown carelessly on the floor, pushing both roughly into her hands.
‘Royce, wait! You’re going too far with this hard-to-get routine. Come on, let me go! If you’re not careful, I’ll think you’re serious and withdraw my offer....’ She glanced up and saw Royce’s stern, set face, and her voice grew shrill. ‘No, you don’t want to do this! Think of what you’re missing out on—’
‘You’re a married woman, Kerry, in case you’d forgotten, so go home to your husband and take your offer with you,’ Royce growled.
He opened the door and pushed her into the corridor, but she clung to him with one hand, pleading breathlessly, ‘Royce, don’t be stupid, let’s talk about this. Is it because of that bitch next door? I always thought there was something between you two. But you won’t get anywhere with her, she’s damaged goods.’
He paused long enough to grind out in cold, angry words, ‘What’s between me and Verity is none of your damn business. Like you’re none of mine.’ He shoved away her restraining hand and said contemptuously, ‘Goodnight.’
‘Royce? ROYCE!’ Kerry’s desperate whisper had become almost a shriek. She jumped as the door was firmly shut in her shocked face, and then stood gaping stupidly at it, breathing hard.
That BASTARD! How could he—
Suddenly realising she was in full sight of anyone passing, she quickly donned her coat, glancing around nervously as she did so, and ran to the door of her unit with hot tears burning her eyes. She paused before quietly letting herself in. Luckily, Jim was still asleep.
* * *
Kerry stood waiting impatiently while the dive
shop attendant assembled the scuba gear for the delegates going diving that morning. The sun hadn’t yet breached the horizon. She yawned. She hadn’t slept at all well, and resented having to rise so early to organise this stupid dive trip....
She fretted, her face sour, as she watched the attendant work. She should have been enjoying herself on this brief sojourn to the island, especially as she didn’t get to attend many of these business junkets. But she found it impossible to appreciate the lovely setting or the pampering at the hands of their well-paid hosts. Jealousy and hatred were consuming any pleasure she might have drawn from the trip.
And I know who to blame for that, she told herself darkly, the same person I’m sure is to blame for the change in Jim’s behaviour lately.
Her husband had become more attentive recently, as though aware of certain goings-on within his marriage. Kerry wrinkled her nose. She didn’t want Jim being all lovey-dovey, buying her roses, expecting her to join him on outings, and totally cramping her style. But the sneer slid from her lips when Royce’s face materialised before her eyes, stabbing her with the same vile look of contempt he’d worn when evicting her from his unit the night before.
That image had lingered night-long, like a painful ache, causing her to toss and turn when she should have been sleeping. Even Jim, a modern-day Rip Van Winkle, had surfaced from his deep sleep, disturbed by her restlessness. He’d gathered her in his arms, asking if she was alright, and if he could get her anything.
And Kerry’s misery hadn’t stopped when she’d risen that morning. On her way to the dive shop, she’d caught sight of Verity and Royce having coffee and croissants together in the dining room, in the dewy pre-dawn light. When she’d paused briefly to watch them, making sure to stay out of sight, she had sensed a new vibe developing between them.
