Holiday in Jamaica

by Tracy Sinclair

  As he cut through the crowd, tall and elegant in cream-colored flannels and a dark jacket with a silk ascot knotted carelessly around his tanned throat, Erin started to tremble and look around for some means of escape. It was impossible, of course, because she was hemmed in by the other guests. And then he was there, looming over her, his gray eyes narrowed and dangerous.

  "What are you doing here?" he demanded curtly.

  "Come on, Jason, is that any way to talk to a lady?" Brad asked.

  "Stay out of this," Jason ordered. He had deliberately kept his voice low so that no one except Brad heard his abrupt words to Erin.

  "Now just a minute—" Brad protested, but Jason grabbed her by the wrist and practically dragged her after him through a set of tall French doors onto a wide patio.

  There was a magnificent garden beyond the terrace, illuminated by moonlight and low spotlights hidden in the shrubbery. Whitewashed brick paths wound around hibiscus bushes covered with pink and red blossoms, which contrasted colorfully with fragrant gardenias gleaming whitely against dark green leaves like dozens of corsages attached by an artful florist. It was a scene of surpassing beauty, but Erin didn't have time to enjoy it because her host was in a towering rage.

  "All right, let's have it. Why did you come here?" he repeated.

  "You're hurting my wrist," she protested.

  Instead of releasing her, he increased the pressure, and she winced with pain. His fingers tightened around her like a vise. "What are you trying to pull, a little spot of blackmail?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about!" she cried.

  "Don't you?" he sneered.

  "No, I don't, and I'll thank you to take your hands off me!" Erin's temper was rising as the pain in her wrist increased. "Is this the way you treat all your guests?" When he looked at her blankly, she said, "Well, maybe I wasn't exactly invited, but Bob said it would be all right. I'm sorry if he was wrong, but you have no right to manhandle me like this."

  "What are you talking about? Bob? Bob who?" Some of his anger ebbed and he was clearly puzzled.

  "My brother, Robert Brady. He works for you in the accounting department, and he said you invited him here tonight."

  "Good Lord! Are you Brady's sister?" At her nod, his fingers finally loosed their aching grip and he said, "It seems I owe you an apology—" He broke off and looked searchingly at her. "Wait a minute. You're the girl who was in my office this morning. I know I'm not wrong about that."

  This was the moment she had been dreading. Unless she could convince him that she hadn't heard anything that went on between Helen and him, it wasn't only her job that was at stake; more importantly, Bob might lose his as well. She could tell just by looking at this man that he was a vengeful enemy.

  Since her brother had brought her into the company, he would come in for a share of the blame. Erin was determined that mustn't happen.

  Managing a rueful smile, she said, "I work for DSL, too, but only in the stenographic pool. You have so many employees that it's no wonder you didn't know I was one of them. But how nice of you to remember seeing me this morning."

  "I remember all right," he said grimly. "If you're in the pool, what were you doing in my office?"

  "Miss Demarest gave me a rush report to type for you, and when she wasn't at her desk, I thought I'd better bring it in." Giving him what she hoped was a guileless look, she went on, "It's too bad about her grandmother. I hope everything's going to be all right."

  He inspected her face intently while she held her breath waiting for the verdict. After a moment that seemed like an eternity, he relaxed, reasonably convinced that she was as innocent as she looked.

  "I'm sure she'll be fine," he answered finally.

  "Oh, I'm so glad," Erin breathed. "Helen is a dear woman."

  The last of his suspicion seemed to dissipate as he said, "I thought you… I mean… well, it seems I owe you an apology."

  "Not at all," she said hastily. "Gate-crashers are an abomination, and I quite understand how you would feel if I gave you that impression."

  "No, my behavior was inexcusable. You must let me make it up to you."

  "It isn't necessary," she insisted. Her heart was racing after the close call, and she wanted to get away before anything happened to change his mind. Turning toward the house, she said, "I'm afraid I've kept you from your guests too long already."

  But Jason's mood had undergone a lightning change once his misgivings were satisfied. He was looking at her now the way a man looks at a beautiful woman.

  "Don't go. I don't even know your first name," he said.

  "It's Erin."

  "That's a very lovely name."

  "Thank you." Feeling extremely flustered under his smiling gaze, she looked yearningly at the brightly lit party just beyond the French doors. "I really must go."

  He reached out to take her hand, and, almost instinctively, she flinched away from him. His eyes were grave as he reached for her again, cupping her shoulders in a gentle grasp. "You're afraid of me, aren't you?"

  "No, I… it's just—"

  "You mustn't be afraid, little Erin. I won't hurt you."

  He bent his head toward her, and she was drowning in the magnetism of those strange gray eyes. Come to me my love, they seemed to say. It was a temptation to relax in the circle of those strong arms and feel them close around her. But as she swayed toward him, an image of Helen Demarest the way she looked the last time Erin had seen her flashed through her mind. Did it start like this for her, too?

  With a tiny gasp, Erin stepped back from his embrace. "Your guests will never forgive me for monopolizing you this way," she said shakily.

  He gave a tiny chuckle but made no move to possess her again. "They'll never miss me as long as the champagne holds out."

  "That isn't a very nice way to talk about your friends," she chided, her breathing still rather uneven.

  "You're right, of course, and I stand corrected. But do I detect a note of criticism in your voice?" He raised one eyebrow. "It sounds like you don't approve of me very much."

  Erin would have given a week's pay to tell him exactly what she did think of him. Managing to keep her tone neutral, she said, "I wouldn't presume to disapprove of the boss."

  He frowned. "I'm not your boss tonight. I'm a man you've just met who wants to get to know you. Come, we'll walk in the garden." He took her hand and held onto it when she tried to pull away. "Tell me all about yourself."

  Erin inhaled the perfumed air before shaking her head. "It wouldn't be a very interesting story."

  "I can scarcely believe that." He broke off a huge pink cabbage rose and gently stroked her cheek with it before handing it to her. "Although I can see you haven't had time for much living yet. How old are you, anyway?"

  "I'm nineteen."

  "My goodness, that old?" he asked, his eyes dancing with merriment. "And what do you want to be when you grow up?"

  He said it as though it were a big joke—as if she were some bubble-headed little thing without a thought for the future, and was only working at DSL as a lark. It probably never occurred to him that anyone would do something she didn't want to do, since all the people he knew did exactly as they pleased. But thinking of her hopeless ambitions and the dull routine of her unimportant job, Erin felt inexpressibly sad. What was she doing here with this man, anyway? Even if she wanted to explain, which she didn't, he would never understand. She raised her head, prepared to say something suitably flip. Instead, she found herself looking into eyes that were devoid now of mockery.

  "What's the matter, little one?" he asked gently.

  Unexpected tears threatened at his soft tone, and for just a moment she felt comforted by his sympathy. But then her common sense returned. This solicitous pose was all part of the same act. Looking into that ruggedly handsome face, even she, who knew better, could almost believe he was sincere. But Erin wasn't about to become just another notch on his belt.

  Resolutely, she said, "Nothing's wrong. It's j
ust that I really do have to leave."

  "So early?"

  "Yes, I'm sorry. I have to go to a party at my aunt's, and I'm terribly late already. I know Bob is going to be furious with me for dragging him away, but I really must go."

  "Then let me drive you."

  "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly!" Was there no way to get away from this man?

  "It's the only sensible solution if you're sure you have to leave." At her nod, he continued, "There's no reason to spoil Bob's evening. Besides, I bought myself a new toy for Christmas, and I'd like to try it out."

  "A new toy?"

  "An Aston-Martin." In answer to her blank look, he said, "It's a make of car."

  Her brother would have known immediately what Jason was talking about, but Erin could be excused her ignorance since it was unlikely she would be acquainted with a car costing that much money.

  "That's nice," she answered politely, and Jason grinned, realizing she had no idea of its value. "But I still can't let you—"

  "I don't want to hear any arguments, it's all settled," he cut in. "We don't even have to go back in the house. We can get to the garage this way."

  Putting his arm around her shoulders, he urged her along the path.

  "But my brother—I have to at least tell him I'm leaving." Too late, Erin realized she had given tacit agreement, but there didn't seem to be anything else she could do. His high-handed manner brooked no argument.

  "Don't worry. I'll tell him when I get back. If I know brothers, he probably won't even know you've gone. There are a lot of attractive ladies in there."

  He was right, of course. Bob was undoubtedly having the time of his life and would think she was crazy for not being delighted that his boss was giving her all this attention. But the gentle pressure of Jason's arm was provoking all kinds of conflicting emotions.

  There was no doubt about the man's pure animal attraction, which made him all the more dangerous. Erin was uncomfortably aware of that hard, lean body so close to hers and of the firm arm holding her an unwilling prisoner. She breathed a soft sigh of relief when they finally reached the huge garage and he helped her into a long, sleek sports job, one of the many cars it held.

  As the powerful motor purred into action and roared down the driveway, Jason gave it his full attention. He did indeed seem like a child with a new toy, but Erin didn't allow herself to be fooled. There was very little of the boy in this complex man.

  Soon they were on the causeway with the lights of the city in front of them and neon-lit Miami Beach with its multimillion-dollar hotels in back. The water guttered blackly on either side of the broad road, and Erin watched in fascination as Jason's strong hands steered the sleek car skillfully in and out of traffic. There was a feeling of repressed excitement about him, as though he enjoyed his mastery over those scores of surging horses under the hood. Erin shivered without quite knowing why.

  She could have sworn that his full attention was on the road, but he noticed her involuntary movement and immediately asked, "Are you cold?"

  "No… no, I'm fine."

  He turned his head for a moment and smiled at her. "You certainly are."

  Erin flushed but managed to say quite casually, "And you're very charming."

  In one of his swift changes of mood, he suddenly became serious. "I try to be, but I'm afraid I said something to upset you back there in the garden."

  "It was nothing, really."

  "Are you sure?"

  She nodded her head.

  "No dark secrets in your past?"

  This time she laughed and said, "No, not a one."

  "Then prove it by telling me about yourself as I asked you to. Start at the beginning; I want to know everything," he commanded.

  The last thing Erin wanted was for him to know anything about her. He was disturbing and frightening and she was in constant terror of saying the wrong thing. The less he knew about the whole Brady clan, the safer they were, she decided, but he was relentless. She tried to talk in generalities, but he asked such probing questions that, before she knew it, Erin realized she had told him much more than she had intended, including her thwarted dreams of a college degree and a future in art.

  "Have you thought of a scholarship?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "Even if it paid all of my tuition, it wouldn't be enough. I have to work. Bob doesn't make enough to support both of us and—" she broke off in dismay, afraid of how critical that must sound to this man who was her brother's boss.

  He reached out and took her slim lingers in his warm hand, squeezing them lightly. "I'm glad to see you forgot for a moment who I am. That means we're making progress."

  "I wasn't complaining, honestly," she told him earnestly. "Bob loves his job, and I'm sure he has a bright future at DSL."

  "It isn't Bob's future I'm interested in right now, it's yours. I'm on the board of several foundations that make student loans. Let me give it some thought."

  "Oh, no, please don't!" Erin cried. She didn't want to be obligated to this man of all people! It wouldn't work, anyhow. What she had told him was the truth. Bob's salary wasn't enough to keep up the household even if he didn't have such expensive tastes and ambitions of his own. "I'll manage to save up the money myself, and some day I'll go back to college. So please, don't even think about it."

  He looked at her quizzically. "What you're saying is, you don't want anything from me. Is that it?"

  "But I really appreciate your offer," she assured him, anxious not to offend. "It was very kind."

  "I do believe this is the first time this ever happened to me," he said thoughtfully.

  Erin couldn't tell from his tone of voice whether he was annoyed with her or not, so it was with great relief that she noticed they were approaching Aunt Ellen's house.

  "There it is, that little green bungalow over there," she told him. The car pulled up to the curb and she slid over to the door saying, "Thank you so much for the ride. Please don't bother to get out."

  She had intended to slip away hastily, but nothing in this foreign car worked like any car she had ever seen. She couldn't find the door handle. Feeling like a fool, she fumbled with all the chrome gadgets, unable to find the right one.

  He made no move to help her. Instead, he watched her frantic efforts with growing amusement. "What time shall I pick you up?"

  "Oh, that won't be necessary," she assured him. "I'll get a lift home."

  "I didn't mean tonight. I meant tomorrow night."

  "I—I don't understand."

  "I'm asking you to have dinner with me."

  "Oh, no!" she blurted out without thinking.

  He looked at her derisively. "You make it sound like a fate worse than death."

  "I'm sorry," she apologized, "it's just that… I don't think it would be a very good idea."

  "Why is that?"

  "Well… Bob and I both work for you, and I think our relationship should be limited strictly to business."

  "Do you mean I have to fire both of you in order to get a date?"

  Erin gasped. He looked and sounded perfectly serious, and the moonlight striking the sharp planes of his face gave him a determined, almost predatory look. Would he actually go that far to get what he wanted? What a mess she had made of this whole night!

  "You wouldn't really do that, would you?" she whispered fearfully.

  He frowned and said, "Of course not, you little idiot. Is that your opinion of me?"

  She ducked her head without answering. He slid one arm along the back of her seat and leaned close to her. Lifting her chin with his other hand, he examined her face until she felt her cheeks grow pink. The light was too dim for him to see, but she was afraid he could feel their warmth.

  When his gaze grew too searching for comfort, her eyelashes drooped and she murmured, "I have to go, my aunt is waiting."

  For just a moment his warm, lithe body pressed against hers and she caught her breath, but he was merely leaning across her to unlock the door. She felt like a sma
ll bird unexpectedly released from a cage. Before she could take flight, his lips brushed her cheek lightly and he said, "Merry Christmas, little Erin."

  Chapter Two

  Her first day back at work after the Christmas holidays found Erin tense and jittery, worried about how to act if she should happen to run into Jason. Which was all nonsense, of course. For one thing, the main office was rarely graced with his presence. If he should happen to walk through, he probably wouldn't even recognize her. No, it was safe to assume that he had forgotten her completely the minute she got out of the car. That little peck on the cheek certainly didn't mean anything. Nor did she want it to. He was a terrible man, and the less she had to do with him, the better. Why was she wasting time even thinking about him? Angrily banging the desk drawer shut, she started to take the cover off her typewriter.

  "Hi, Erin, did you have a nice holiday?" It was Terry, who perched herself on the edge of the desk ready for a chat.

  "Yes, fine, thank you." Erin's answer was purposely noncommittal, but the other girl was too preoccupied to notice. She was almost bursting with excitement.

  "Have you heard the news?"

  Erin shook her head. "I just got in. What news?"

  "Helen Demarest is gone!"

  "What do you mean, gone?" Erin asked cautiously.

  "Well, the official story is that she's taking some extra vacation time because her grandmother's sick, but I hear there's a lot more to it than that."

  Melissa joined them, asking, "What are you two talking about?"

  "I was just telling Erin about Helen."

  "I wonder if it's true—that she's going to have a baby, I mean?" Melissa asked.

  "Oh, no!" Erin's exclamation reflected the dismay she felt that the gossip had already begun, but the women took it as a natural reaction.