Steeling herself to this ordeal, she smiled indulgently as Paris flirted with Grandma, kissing the old woman’s cheek roughly. Samantha saw that even she had tears in her eyes.
As Marianne and Paris prepared to board their plane, they promised to come back and visit very soon and reminded Alex and Samantha of their promise to be in the wedding party. Samantha merely smiled and kept quiet as Marianne teased Alex, urging him to hurry up and make an honest woman of her best friend.
At last, they were safely tucked away on the plane and Samantha sighed with relief.
The truth was she was sick of them, sick of hearing about their upcoming wedding, about how great their lives were going.
Disappointed in herself and knowing she was being a jealous little baby, she pushed such ignoble thoughts from her mind.
On the way back from the airport, Alex stopped in town and pulled up right in front of the post office. When he came out, he was carrying a large, flat parcel, which he carefully stowed in the back of the Jeep.
At home, he set the parcel on the floor at Samantha’s feet.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“I ordered it for you when I was by myself in Waikiki, when I really thought we could be together. It seems pretty stupid now, but go ahead and open it.”
He handed her his pocketknife and she cautiously cut away the plastic bindings. She peeled back the cardboard and there, nestled inside, lay a beautifully framed reproduction of a Titian painting, “Venus of Urbino.”
Samantha gasped, her heart filling with pleasure as she lifted the painting from its wrappings.
There she lay in all her splendor, the lovely young Venus. Samantha, overcome with gratitude, smiled up at Alex.
“Oh, my God. This is my favorite painting in the whole world, Alex.”
He smiled kindly, so she pressed her luck.
“Does this mean I can change the manuscript?”
“No.”
“What if I showed you why I think it’s not Baroque?”
“Jeez, Samantha, would you just let it go? Forget that manuscript and let’s just go and hang this damned painting.”
She followed him into her bedroom. Alex perched himself on the edge of her bed, waiting for Samantha to decide where to place the painting.
She wanted to be able to see it from her bed, to be able to look at it always. She really couldn’t keep away from her, this pretty young nude. She smiled regretfully, painfully aware she and Alex had never made love here in her room.
Her body ached for him and she realized there was no way she’d be able to keep away from him, either.
“Alex,” she called, her voice scarcely above a whisper. He glanced up at her, his eyes full of passion, watching her as she strutted around the room, painting in hand, really and sincerely pleased with it.
When she saw he was looking at her, she put the painting down and went to him. She reached out to stroke his cheek and her heart softened once again.
She wanted to taste his breath, wanted to hold him close. She cupped the back of his head and pressed it to her breast.
“You still don’t love me, do you?” she asked pensively. When he tried to answer, she covered his mouth with her hand.
“I don’t care anymore, Alex. It doesn’t matter. Really.”
He crushed her to him, pulling her down onto the bed. He settled her there and kissed her cheek tenderly as he got up. He then slipped her shoes off, one by one, and pulled the blankets over her. Before he moved away, he bestowed a chaste kiss on her forehead.
“Come on, Samantha, you’re just exhausted. I want you to sleep.”
Incapable of fighting this suggestion, Samantha shut her eyes and drifted off.
She slept for hours, and when she awoke, the house was completely dark except for a shaft of light that streamed through her open door.
“Alex?” she called, hearing a noise in the other room. She sat up in bed.
There was no reply, but seconds later, he came to her door, a tall, slim figure lit from behind. The light gently outlined his body and she called out to him again.
Samantha’s eyes grew accustomed to the dim light and she could see he was wearing only a pair of striped pajama bottoms. His chest glistened in the dark and she motioned for him to come to her.
He did come forward, and her heart leapt with joy as he sat on the bed beside her. He lovingly took her cheekbones between his palms and tilted her face up to his, his generous mouth moving to form her name.
“Samantha.”
“Yes, Alex?”
“You’re fired.”
Chapter 13
“Fired?” she squeaked, her voice failing her. He kissed her forehead dismissively and released her.
She reached for the bedside lamp and clicked it on, and the world seemed to fall away suddenly as she stared up at him, unable to believe what she’d just heard.
“Fired?” she demanded. “How can I be fired?”
“Calm down, okay? Don’t start losing your mind over this. I promise you’ll be compensated. I...I can give you a whole year’s pay.”
“Pay?”
Hot tears stung her eyes, tears of betrayal and dashed hopes. She looked up at him again as he edged closer to the door.
“Why? Why, Alex?”
“Look, Samantha, it’s nothing personal. This just isn’t working out for me. You’re a very beautiful girl and I just can’t seem to concentrate on my work, is all. Basically, you’re a distraction.”
She jumped out of bed and stole over to the closet. There, she found one of her suitcases and yanked it out, flinging it onto the bed.
Her voice deliberately mocking, Samantha began to speak.
“Don’t worry, Samantha,” she said. “I won’t hurt you, Samantha. I don’t want to use you, Samantha. I’m not like that, Samantha.”
“Oh, come on, Samantha, you’re taking this thing way too seriously.”
“Oh, really, Alex? Too seriously? My heart’s broken, but I’m too serious about it? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
He moved to stop her from opening the dresser drawer, but she shoved him aside, tears rolling down her face.
“Look,” he started off quite reasonably, “I know this seems difficult right now, but eventually you’ll see it’s for the best.”
She rounded on him, her mouth open in disbelief.
“How dare you? How dare you presume to tell me what’s best?”
Alex, obviously unimpressed, stood silent, and Samantha, completely at a loss and unable to think clearly, glanced about the room, bewildered.
“Where the hell are my socks?” she asked aloud, every awful implication of this affair manifesting itself to her now. She knew at once what her father would say when he found out and she gasped, unable to see herself in any creditable light.
Alex stood stock-still, watching her. She turned to him, dazed, unwilling to believe he-he-could be so heartless.
“I can’t be fired, Alex. I can’t go home like this.”
“Sorry.”
She threw back her head and screamed, then she flew to the dresser, yanking the drawer completely out and spilling its contents all over the floor. The drawer handle slipped through her nerveless fingers and Alex went to her and led her to a chair.
She sagged into it, crushed.
“He was right, my dad,” she told him. “I had no business coming here with you.”
“Stop it, Samantha.”
“You’ve turned me into a whore, Alex. Don’t you know what he’ll say? Don’t you know what this will look like to him?”
Never in her entire life had she willfully caused her parents any grief, and the thought of their distress when they learned of her behavior unsettled her.
“O
h, God, Alex, please? Please don’t make me go. I swear, I’ll get fat and ugly and chop off all my hair, and you’ll never even have to look at me again. Just please, please don’t make me go.”
Alex sank to his knees and seized her hands.
“For God’s sake, Samantha, calm down.”
She took a few ragged breaths, fighting back a wave of hysteria. Once she managed to get a grip on herself, he spoke to her again in a kind, soothing voice.
“You don’t have to tell them what happened, sweetie,” he told her. “Don’t tell them you were fired. Just say you were homesick and you quit, or tell them I was impossible to work for. Tell them whatever you like, I’ll back you up. I’m not trying to hurt you, baby. I just want this to be over.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to think logically.
“Okay,” she whispered, clearing her throat. “Okay. Okay, Alex. I won’t tell them you fired me. I won’t tell them how you used me.”
“I didn’t use you.”
She smiled bitterly.
“No? Well, what would you call it, then?”
“You came to me willingly, remember?”
A harsh laugh escaped her lips.
“Well, I guess we all know why Jennie cheated on you, then, don’t we?”
His expression hardened.
“What are you talking about?”
“She did it with the UPS guy to get your attention, you idiot. What the hell? Nobody gets caught by accident. She wanted you to catch her.”
He jerked his hands away and stood up.
“Don’t tell me you were a Psych major, too, Miss Wilkes.”
Her eyes widened and she flew out of the chair, unwilling to sit there and have him mock her. She flung past him rudely and forced herself back to the task of packing her things.
She went back to the dresser and attempted to make herself empty it of its contents, but her thoughts were too scattered and she grew conscious that Alex was standing there, watching her every move.
She marched back over to the bed and shoved the half-filled suitcase violently to the floor.
When she looked at him again, Alex wore the ever-suffering look of a martyr. Samantha, more angered than ever, found herself wanting to pick up the nearest object and fling it at him, found herself wanting to break through this façade of his and get to the heart of him. She knew he felt something for her, and she wanted to hear him express it.
She also knew, however, that violence wouldn’t do, would only serve to make her look foolish and undignified.
Perhaps a taste of his own medicine?
Taking strict control of her emotions, Samantha faced him, allowing a slight smile to creep onto her face.
“Poor Alex.”
“What?”
“I feel so sorry for you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Really, Alex. It must be awful to be you, to be so alone, so suspicious of everyone else. It’s got to suck to be in such denial all the time.”
Alex said nothing, just stood there glaring at her. She saw the muscle in his jaw working and smiled wider, pressing her advantage.
At least now he’s reacting, she thought.
“And you don’t look a thing like Jesse Dent, do you, honey? Well, believe me, it’s the only reason I bothered sleeping with you.”
He looked as if the top of his head might blow off as he took in her words. He opened his mouth, fumbling for something to say.
“You little bitch,” he said at last, moving toward her.
She flung out her hand, stopping him in his tracks.
“Get out of here, will you, Alex? I really am incredibly bored by all this.”
His expression reflected hurt and incredulity and he stormed from the room with a slam of the door.
The next morning, things were difficult over the breakfast table and Samantha realized he hadn’t slept.
Neither had she, but he wasn’t to know that. She remained politely indifferent to him all through the meal, and fled from his presence the moment it was over.
She spent most of the morning shut up in her room, packing her things. She wasn’t really sure what she was allowed to take away with her, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Alex, so she left the big items behind, the things that rightly belonged to him. Finally, when she could take no more of the solitude of own her room, Samantha emerged.
Grandma was in the kitchen as usual, but she glanced around in an expectant manner when she heard the girl come into the room behind her, as if she’d been waiting for this visit. Samantha saw that she knew what was going on, knew Samantha had been sent away in disgrace. She also knew the old woman was aggrieved and didn’t want her to go, was sick and tired of always having Alex’s assistants leave in so short a time, and would’ve sold her very soul just for some peace of mind and continuity.
Looking depressed, Mrs. Kujiroaka pulled a chair around and motioned for Samantha to join her at the table.
Samantha did join her, her heart in her throat.
“I’m so sorry, Grandma,” she began lamely. “I don’t even know if I’ll be allowed to write, but I’ll try. And if Alex throws my letters away, I want you to know I’ll be thinking of you all the time. You’ve been a good friend to me.”
The woman put her mournful little head down on the table and wept a little.
“I thought you’d last, Missy Samantha,” she told her, trying hard to squelch her tears. “I really thought you’d last. You’re the first one he’s cared about in a long, long time. I’m getting too old for this.”
“I know.”
“I’ll be sixty-eight in August,” she told Samantha, dabbing at her eyes. “Mr. Alex needs to settle down or he’s going to be sorry. I can’t go on forever.”
“I know, but I’m not the kind of girl to force myself on someone else. If Alex doesn’t know by now we belong together, I guess there’s no hope for us.”
All at once, glancing up, the old woman sucked in a sudden breath and stiffened, then let go of Samantha’s hand.
Without even looking, Samantha knew Alex had come into the room and was standing behind them, listening to their conversation. She turned and caught him glaring at her, hands on his hips.
“Oh, don’t start bothering people with your tales of woe. And you,” he told Grandma. “Haven’t you got anything better to do than listen to this spoiled little brat?”
In a flash, Grandma stood up to him, something he clearly hadn’t expected.
“You go now,” she told Alex. “You leave Missy Samantha alone.”
Affronted, Alex grinned wickedly and drew up a chair as if he meant to sit down at the table with them. The old woman would have none of this, though, and insisted he go away. When he refused to move, she stepped forward and tried her best to heave him from the room, but Alex, much more solid and weighty than she, kept his feet firmly planted to the floor.
“You think you can order me around in my own house?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
“No,” he countered, gently but very firmly and easily lifting Grandma off her feet and moving her aside.
Alex’s purposeful gaze met Samantha’s. Something in his eyes reminded her so forcibly of her dad in one of his towering rages that she caught her breath. He started toward her and, in an instant, Samantha leapt to her feet with a shriek and backed against the kitchen counter, uncertain of his intentions but not about to stick around to find out what they were.
“Pas devant des servants,” she cried in French, hoping he understood.
It took him a few seconds to process what she said, but then Alex smiled an evil little smile.
“They won’t mind,” he assured her, confidently skirting the table to approach her from the left.
Sa
mantha screeched and darted for the back door, barely eluding his grasp. Shaken, she fumbled for the knob.
“Pas devant des servants,” she insisted, terrified, twisting at the doorknob. She managed to open it just in time to escape.
“Pas devant des servants!”
She slammed the door behind herself and ran all the way through the rose garden to the flower-covered pergola, where she sat down to catch her breath.
Once she calmed down, she made herself forget about Alex. Instead, she concentrated on the tranquil waters of the lily pond. Soon, she discovered the toll the past few days had taken on her. She felt very tired and decided, looking at the thick carpet of green grass surrounding the pond, to go and lie down on it, to rest her weary head for just a few minutes.
Gentle, cooling raindrops awakened her. She opened her eyes, and sitting up, found the little fawn lying there in the grass at her feet, his legs folded under him.
Sensing her movements, the fawn opened his eyes.
Samantha caught her breath. She’d never been this close to a deer before, and he looked so trusting she felt he might let her pet him. However, when she reached out her hand, he scampered away.
Disappointed, Samantha went back to the pergola to wait out the rain. It wouldn’t last long, of course. It never did. The sun was still shining, even.
She drew in a sharp breath, as there, beneath the pergola, Alex was sitting on the stone bench she’d planned to occupy.
“You looked just like Sleeping Beauty out there,” he told her, his eyes swimming in tears. Samantha, still afraid of him, refused to meet his gaze and watched him guardedly from the corner of her eye.
He stood up and she leapt out of his reach, alarmed.
Stopping, he kept his distance.
“I’m sorry, Samantha. I didn’t mean to scare you in the kitchen.”
She watched him and wondered why he had to go spoil everything, why he couldn’t just say he loved her, making it possible for her to stay with him forever and ever.
“Come here, Samantha,” he beckoned.
She shook her head.
“I have to go.”
“Will you write to me? I can get you a new job, you know. I’ll talk to Paris. He knows everyone.”
Tropical Temptation Page 15
