Charmed By You ((Destiny Bay Romances-The Islanders 5))

by Conrad, Helen

  Charmed By You

  Destiny Bay Romances - The Islanders - Book 5

  By Helen Conrad

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Info

  Title Page

  Cast of Characters

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

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  ABOUT AUTHOR

  Cast of Characters in the series Destiny Bay Romances~The Islanders, Book 5

  Charmed By You

  The Carringtons of Hawaii are descended from Anthony Carrington (son of Abel and Mehitabel Carrington of Destiny Bay) who came to the islands in 1938 and married an island girl. Malia Kaalani Carrington and her brothers and cousins are his grandchildren.

  Mitch Carrington—sharp and intelligent, Mitch went to medical school in Arizona and married Heather there, but soon reverted to his original ambitions and headed back to the tropics.

  Heather Carrington—married Mitch and planned a wonderful future for him, but it all fell apart when she realized her ambitions weren’t anywhere near his.

  Others in the Islanders’ world:

  Alika Maxwell Carrington~called Max, he’s the second of the brothers, a lawyer and the hero of Rescued By You.

  Ashley Winters~Ditzy on the surface, filled with tender affection deep down, and madly in love with Max.

  Kai Carrington~the youngest brother—a playboy more ready to settle down than he realizes

  Taylor Lee~damaged but strong, she has career plans and no desire for love—it’s too scary

  Malia Kaalani Carrington~mother of Jimmy and owner of Paukai Café on the Big Island.

  Brad Connors~Met Malia when they were teenagers and has loved her ever since.

  Kane Carrington~Malia’s brother, hero of Saved By You, married to Annie Ventura.

  Annie Reynolds Ventura Carrington~married to Kane

  Chapter One

  “Heather! Where did you spring from?”

  For a moment she had trouble catching her breath. After nine months, Mitch looked the same as he always had, standing there in the shadowy doorway of the low frame building. She’d called him the Black Panther when teasing had still been part of their love. The term was more appropriate than ever here in this jungle setting. He was sleek and watchful, with his dark velvet eyes so inscrutable, his midnight hair silky soft and shining, his wide mouth pulled into a wary smile of surprise.

  Her first thoughts were tinged with panic. She’d been so sure she was over him, but that first sight of his proud, handsome face triggered her uncertainty. If she was over him, why was her heart beating wildly? Why was she unconsciously groping about for something to lean against?

  She’d worried about this meeting all the way across the Pacific as she traveled toward the island of Ragonai. One by one she’d listed every reason why she should hate Mitch Carrington. Her head agreed with them all, but her heart had always been a renegade.

  “It wasn’t easy to get here,” she said finally. “There’s no regular plane service to this godforsaken island. I had to hire that amphibian plane you must have noticed landing in your lagoon.”

  A measure of relief snaked through her as she realized how steady her voice sounded. It was going to be all right. She was going to maintain control.

  Mitch nodded slowly. “Gary Smith’s Albatross. I know it well. One of our few contacts with the outside world.”

  The atmosphere around them was as thick and lush as an overripe peach, but Mitch stood out clean and strong in contrast. He looked at home here. Though his white physician’s coat was spotless, it was casually wrinkled. He never had cared about the small niceties like polite manners or ironed clothes.

  His eyes were watchful, as though he wasn’t sure why she’d come and was prepared to take charge if she did anything silly. Unbidden, a small grin curled her carefully glossed lips. Did he think she’d come three thousand miles to throw herself at his feet and beg for his love? Fat chance. He knew her better than that!

  “Don’t worry,” she told him lightly. “I’m here on business. Nothing personal at all.”

  She’d come prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. Living out here in the middle of nowhere, maybe he hadn’t received all the letters she’d sent. That’s what she’d told herself when she’d decided to chase him down.

  He raised his dark eyebrows as though to deny he’d had any qualms about her motives, and she went on before he had a chance to speak.

  “You’re an impossible person to get in touch with, so I decided to take the direct approach and beard the lion, so to speak.” Throwing him a quick, rather nervous smile, she gestured toward the tropic setting. “Nice island you’ve got here.”

  His sudden grin was wide and spontaneous. “I thought you said it was godforsaken.”

  She’d forgotten how stunning his grin was, how it seemed to flash out of nowhere and slice through her heart. He was still as handsome as ever, his straight teeth a white contrast to his tan skin, his dark hair falling in a casual wave over his forehead. She might have expected a few streaks of silver by now, considering the hard life he must live here. But then Mitch was only in his early thirties, to her twenty-five years. She couldn’t detect a trace of gray. It had only been nine months, after all.

  “Godforsaken, but nice,” she amended. Tactful to the end, she thought grimly. Why did she try to keep up the pretense of civility? Why couldn’t she just get on with the business and get out of here?

  He was chuckling and already her determination was beginning to melt at the husky, appealing sound. “I’ve missed you,” he said, making it even worse.

  She looked at him sharply, wondering if he really meant it, sure he was just making polite, pointless conversation. If he only knew how much she’d missed him! The early months after he’d left, she’d walked around in a fog of misery, unable to accept that the only man she’d ever loved had told her he couldn’t live with her any longer, that her way of life suffocated him, that he despised everything she considered important.

  But she didn’t want him to know about that. Not ever.

  If you missed me, why didn’t you come home?

  That was what she thought, but she would never ask him. What they’d had was over. She was learning to build a new life for herself.

  And so was he. She gazed around the tropic landscape that was so different from their pine-covered lot in Flagstaff. The air was heavy with the perfume of masses of blossoms, and the sound of the surf on the reef was a constant backdrop.

  “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” She knew that a naive part of her was hoping he would deny it, that he would show her how nicely he’d reformed. But those were more dreams better left to midnight longings. They wouldn’t hold up in the bright light of day.

  “You’ve changed,” he said instead of answering. “You’ve let your hair grow.”

  Involuntarily she raised her hand to touch the full sweep of golden hair that curved across her shoulders. When they’d been together, her hair had been cut short in a cap of curls about her head. But she’d wanted it long. Sometimes she thought the desire sprang from some inner urge to assert her sexuality after he’d rejected her.

  “Yes,” she said a bit breathlessly. “Do you like it?”

  He frowned critically. “I don’t know yet,” he answered slowly. Then his gaze trailed down to inspect the
rest of her. “Still dressing Junior League, I see.”

  How could she let it sting so? Wasn’t she ever going to grow some tougher skin? What did she care what he thought of her hair, her box-cut linen suit? He no longer had a place in her life.

  Yet she found herself shrinking back from his examination. She had the same old face. It was pretty enough with its pert, still freckled nose and widely spaced blue eyes. But not pretty enough to hold him, was it? Not when so many beauties lay at his feet like spring flowers, just begging to be picked. Beauties like Dede Sablan, whose dark sultry fire had torn Mitch from her and drawn him out to the island Dede’s grandparents had come from.

  But his opinion didn’t matter. Heather only wanted to get her business taken care of and get out of there.

  “Since you’ve assured me this isn’t a mad, impetuous trip across the ocean to try to win me back,” he said softly, “why don’t you clue me in on just what you’re here for?”

  “Business, I told you.” She shifted her weight restlessly, her sling-backed, high-heeled sandals wobbling on the rocky coral road. Looking at him searchingly, she wondered once again at his lack of response to her letters. At one point she’d actually suspected him of ignoring them just to force her to make this impossible journey. But that had been more daydreaming. The letters had surely been lost in the haphazard mail service this remote island enjoyed, just as her lawyer had suggested.

  The place didn’t even have cell service. For all she knew, they might not have telephones at all. It was like stepping back in time. What made him want this primitive life more than he wanted her?

  “Did you get my letters?” she asked.

  “What letters?” he responded, looking blank.

  Mitch did many things which Heather didn’t like, but he didn’t lie. Just the opposite: his truth could often be brutally honest.

  She remembered the night she’d finally found the courage to challenge his late-night absences from home. She could still see him standing next to the fireplace, a roaring winter fire blazing behind him, a fire she had stoked to help keep her own anger burning while she waited for him to come home in the small hours of the morning.

  “You were with Dede, weren’t you?” she’d flung at him, naming the beautiful young nurse who seemed to cling to him like saran wrap.

  He looked annoyed, then stared at her coldly. “Yes,” he’d said at last, “I was with Dede tonight. And the night before. And I’ll be going out with her tomorrow night. The work we’re doing is important—much more important than the golf games with hospital administrators your father is always trying to set up for me. If you can’t accept that, maybe it’s time we reevaluated our relationship.”

  They’d reevaluated their relationship and found it wanting on all counts. Heather remembered that period as a time of painful confusion. She tried so hard, but she couldn’t understand the things he did or why he did them. Everything seemed to threaten her—his antipathy toward her values, his scorn for her family and friends, his magnetism for other women.

  The women. He was so attractive, so physically appealing. Women’s heads turned wherever he went. In the full flush of their love, it hadn’t bothered Heather much, but when her security began to crumble, she became terrified of losing him.

  Finally it was all too much. They had said good-bye. Mitch and Dede had left for their Pacific island, and Heather had filed for divorce.

  Where was Dede now? Were they still together? Or had Mitch followed the path he’d set for himself—to explore the wider world in every way?

  “May I come in, Mitch?” she asked evenly, pushing the curtain of honey blond hair back up off her warm neck. “This sun is so hot.”

  “Of course.” He opened the door to the shack-like building wide enough for her to enter, but he stayed where he was as she swept past.

  “Mmm,” he breathed, reaching out to touch her hair as she slipped by him. “Still wearing Chanel No. 5, aren’t you?”

  Walking quickly out of his reach, she ignored his comment and glanced about the room, trying to adjust her eyes to the gloom. A low couch ran along one wall, a table piled high with magazines in front of it.

  “What is this place?”

  “This is only the waiting room,” Mitch told her, leading her through another door. “And this is my clinic.” He opened his arms wide as though showing off a room full of riches. “What do you think?”

  Heather couldn’t think at all. She felt a little dizzy. How could he be proud of something like this? It was small and looked incredibly dirty, with broken-down chairs and chipped plaster walls. The light was gloomy, the air as thick as pea soup. The one bright spot, she had to admit, was Mitch’s tray of medical instruments, which gleamed with antiseptic polish.

  “Can’t you open a window?” she asked tentatively.

  “They are open. There’s nothing covering them but screens. Have to keep the bugs out.” He pulled out a folding chair with a torn seat and offered it to her.

  As she sat down on the edge, her gaze traveled from the room to the man who stood looking down at her. He was dressed in a white coat, but underneath she could see faded jeans. Still dressing like a teenager after all these years.

  That had always been the problem. Mitch was the most charming, most engaging man she’d ever known, but no matter how arrogantly adult he appeared, he wasn’t really a man at all. He was a boy, and, like a boy, he wanted it all. He thought he could be a physician and still play around at being a regular guy. He thought he could be eccentric and still rise by his own merits. He refused to believe that it just wouldn’t work, that he would have to grow up to succeed in the real world. And when given a choice, he picked youth over maturity every time.

  “Mitch, did you get any of the letters I’ve sent to you in the last six months?”

  “Letters?” he asked blankly, his eyes unreadable.

  She nodded. “Four or five letters, actually.”

  “Love letters?” he asked, though his smile was touched with cynicism.

  “No, Mitch. Business letters. Papers to sign.”

  He cocked dark eyebrows in mock surprise. “You mean our divorce isn’t final after all?”

  “This has nothing to do with the divorce. We own a house, remember?”

  He nodded glumly. “Oh, yes, how I remember that house,” he answered with a touch of irony.

  That was better. That was more like the Mitch who’d spent every waking hour arguing with her, not the Mitch of the early days, who’d used every excuse to be in her arms.

  “That house was designed by the best architect in Flagstaff,” she announced, then regretted the words as she remembered how many times she’d said them in the past. “Maybe if you’d spent more time there you would have learned to appreciate it better.” It was almost as as though they hadn’t been separated for all this time. They could pick up the arguments right where they’d left off.

  He shrugged. “That place wasn’t so much a house as it was a status symbol, a signal to all the other society fools you ran around with that you deserved to be part of the gang. It was cold, sterile, uninviting—but on the right hill, bordering the right country club.”

  She took a deep breath. Ah, yes. Just like old times. She must never forget these running arguments that had gone on for days at a time. A small glow of satisfaction kindled in her. As long as she remembered the worst of what they’d had together, she would never be tempted to resurrect the best.

  She rose energetically to her feet. “Good. Since you feel that way about the house, you’ll have no problem signing the release so I can sell it.”

  She heard his soft laugh, but didn’t look up.

  “So that’s all you came for. I might have known.”

  His voice sounded strangely bitter, but she tried to keep her mind on her mission. She reached into her huge shoulder bag and pulled out the fat, legal-sized envelope.

  “Here we are,” she said with forced cheer. “There are five places for you to sign.” She
spread the papers out on his desk and flashed him a silver pen. “Just put down your John Hancock and I’ll be off.”

  “Off?” His dark eyes seemed to be smiling, but she couldn’t tell for sure. She never had been able to read him. “What do you mean, off?”

  She avoided his gaze as she stated the inevitable. “Back home. Back in the little seaplane I came in. You didn’t think I was going to stay for a real visit, did you?”

  She glanced up and found that his eyes had grown cold. What did that mean? You would think that two years of marriage would have taught her something about the man. She remembered his face, his voice, his hard muscular body. She knew that she could close her eyes and see him as she’d known him so well, flesh brown and smooth, all muscle and sinew without an ounce of fat, every part of him moving in sensuous grace. He’d been an unforgettable lover.

  She turned away and closed her eyes for a few, guilty seconds, remembering what it had been like to love him, remembering the thrill when he surprised her, his long, muscular body feeling so hot, so fine, so exciting that she thought she would die of happiness every time. How had they lost that? Sometimes she thought maybe their love had been too intense to last. Like flying into the sun.

  Yes, she’d known his body well. But his eyes—not so much. They were supposed to be the mirrors of the soul, weren’t they? His eyes had always been a mystery to her.

  “Why not?” he was saying. “Now that you’re here, why not stay for a few days?”

  She tried to laugh, but the hoarse sound stuck in her throat as she met his intense gaze. Her heart was beating hard again, and she sat down in the chair. No, she couldn’t stay. She knew without thinking that staying would be much too dangerous. There were still too many emotions lying raw and painful just beneath the surface of her smile.

  Why didn’t he sign the papers so she could get on with it? She moved restlessly in the rickety chair.

  “I hardly think we need lots of time together,” she said evenly. “We’d just fill it with ugly scenes that wouldn’t make either of us happy.”