Another long silence followed, broken only when Mele appeared to take their orders. She left and the three of them stared at their wineglasses. The dining room was half empty tonight. Heather looked about the place, wishing she were eating anywhere but with these two men.
She threw a furtive glance at Kevin, mentally urging him to say something, and caught him glancing her way. Their eyes met and they smiled. Before she knew it, the smile had turned into a short giggle set off by her nervousness.
“You two have certainly hit it off.” She couldn’t decide if Mitch’s voice was bitter or amused. “But then, I should have guessed that.”
Heather tried to meet his gaze but found it difficult. “Because Kevin’s such a nice guy?” she proposed tentatively.
“No,” he answered shortly, “because he’s so much like someone in Flagstaff of whom you were particularly fond.”
She had no trouble looking into his eyes now. “Oh, really? Who?” She couldn’t imagine who he was talking about.
His smile was not pretty. ‘Trevor, of course. Don’t you see the resemblance?”
She stared at him. “Trevor?” she echoed blankly.
“Sure.” He waved a hand toward his partner. “They have the same elegant style, the same Ivy League profile, the same knife-sharp crease in their trousers. No wonder you’re attracted to Kevin. He’s Trevor all over.”
Heather turned to look at the object of their discussion and realized Mitch did have a point. Both Trevor and Kevin were well dressed, both from a background of breeding and money. And, though she hated to make this comparison, they both possessed little competence when it came to their careers.
Trevor had never been able to stick to anything, but then that was Trevor. No one really expected it of him. After all, he’d been born into a family wealthy enough to take care of him no matter what his frailties. His small failures had been laughed off and swept under the rug for years. Kevin had been raised with higher expectations, but he’d turned in the same disappointments nonetheless.
“I guess there are similarities between them,” she agreed slowly. But why did Mitch sound so jealous? Why did he say she was attracted to Kevin? He knew there was nothing in that. It wasn’t like him. “Trevor is my cousin, Kevin,” she explained, “not to mention one of my very best friends.”
“Any cousin of yours is a friend of mine,” he answered smoothly, raising his wineglass. “A toast to Trevor.”
She laughed and picked up her glass, but Mitch made no move toward his. She glanced at him, ready to protest, when Mele came lumbering up to their table, her face uncharacteristically flushed.
“Heather Carrington,” she said icily, “I got a message for you. The pump boy just brought it in. Danny Cabrillo says he’ll be here at ten o’clock sharp tomorrow to audition for the job you offered him.”
Heather blinked, looking into the kindly woman’s angry face. For just a moment she couldn’t conceive what Mele could possibly be talking about. “Audition?”
“That’s right.” Mele put her hands on her ample hips. “This kid thinks you promised him a job. Funny, I thought this was my club. But maybe I was wrong.”
Heather was completely confused. “But I never offered him a job.”
“Oh, no? Then why does he think he can waltz in here and work at the Coconut Club?” She turned to Kevin for support. “I can’t believe it. These mainlanders come in here and try to tell you how to run things.”
“Mele, calm down now,” Kevin soothed, trying to convince her to sit in a chair across from Heather. “There must be some mistake.”
“Mistake?” Mele wailed. “Mistake? What am I going to do when that kid comes riding up with his suitcase in his hand, expecting a job in my bar and a room in my club? You know how they are. I’ll have to send him back to his village and then all his people will hate me, and then all the village will hate me, and then—“
“Mele, Mele, calm down,” Kevin interrupted, finally succeeding in getting her to take a seat. “We won’t let that happen. We’ll think of something.”
“Mele, I did absolutely nothing to contact Danny,” Heather protested. “The only time I even mentioned it was last night.”
“I heard about it in Titano village this morning,” Mitch told her quietly. “News travels fast in the tropics.”
Kevin shook his head. “I swear, sometimes I think they get out their drums in the middle of the night when none of us are listening. News seems to travel almost by osmosis.”
“You didn’t send for him?” Mele asked, somewhat mollified.
“I didn’t,” Heather assured her. “But since he’s coming anyway, Mele, if you would just listen to him play, I’m sure you’ll fall in love with that guitar. And if you could just squeeze him in between the numbers on the jukebox...”
“Oh, no.” She began to look panicked again. “No way. I wouldn’t dare do that to the boys. You don’t know how partial they are to their country tunes.”
“I think I do know,” Heather replied sadly, listening to the strains of “The Longer I Go Without Your Love, The More I Want to Die.” “I’m afraid I know only too well.”
“Besides,” Mele added, frowning at her again, “what you got against country music?”
“Not a thing,” she answered quickly. “I happen to be a country music fan. But over and over and over is more than I can stand of anything.”
Mele shrugged grandly. “I don’t even hear it anymore.”
“Possibly the first known case of benign deafness,” Kevin murmured in Heather’s ear, but she was still caught up in the problem of Danny.
“If you would just listen to the boy,” she tried again, but Mele cut her off.
“No! Absolutely not. I won’t even discuss it.”
Heather sighed. “Then I’m afraid we’re going to have Danny and his family and his village and possibly the whole island angry with us by this time tomorrow night.”
“Possibly.” Mitch spoke at last. “But there might be another way to handle it.”
They all turned to look at him.
“Just what’s your idea?” Kevin asked lightly.
Mitch gave them each a half smile. “Let him play at Jake’s party Thursday night. That way he’ll have his job and the boys will have a chance to hear some other kind of music, but won’t have it shoved down their throats in their own bar.”
Suddenly Mele’s face was beaming with delight. “Mitch, you always save the day!” she cried, slapping her hands together. “Sure, that’s what we’ll do. Then I won’t have to find a room for him either. He can stay with the Cerranos tomorrow night and the night of the party.” She gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Great going, doctor man.”
Heather smiled because everyone else was smiling, but she really wasn’t sure she knew what was going on. “Who’s Jake?” she asked innocently.
“Who’s Jake?” Mele roared. “Jake’s my husband. And don’t none of you forget it.” She rose, ready to bustle again. “I got to get back to work. You two tell her about Jake and the party.”
As Mele left, Heather looked at the two men expectantly and found that even Mitch had unbent enough to have a twinkle in his eyes. “Well?” she coaxed. “Tell me about Jake.”
“Jake is Mele’s husband, as she said,” Mitch answered slowly.
“Why did I have the distinct impression she was a widow?”
“Well...” For the first time Mitch and Kevin shared a smile. “Jake isn’t around anymore, and there are those who claim he’s dead. But Mele won’t believe it.”
Heather looked from one to the other. “Go on,” she urged. “Don’t leave me dangling.”
“Jake and Mele arrived here on Ragonai together, but Jake got bored with running the Coconut Club. A crew of modern-day pirates came through and filled his ears with tales of buried treasure in some remote part of the Trust Territory.”
“I think it was Ulithi,” Kevin put in.
“Whatever, he took off with them. From time to ti
me Mele received various reports of his whereabouts, but not of any treasure. Finally the reports stopped coming. And then stories about his death began to circulate.”
“But Mele won’t listen,” Kevin added. “She’s sure he’s still alive, diving in some turquoise lagoon for Spanish gold. And when he finds it, he’ll be back.”
Heather cocked her head, considering. “I think that’s kind of touching,” she said. “She’s a very faithful wife.” She smiled into her wineglass. “How long has it been since he left?”
“Sixteen years on Thursday,” Mitch told her dryly.
She looked up, aghast. “Sixteen years?”
He nodded. “That’s what the party is for. Every year she celebrates his journey and gives a big party. Everyone on the island is invited, and generally most of them turn up sometime during the night. Around three in the morning they all march down to the beach to where his boat shoved off and light a huge bonfire, burning all the loose wood they can find.”
“That’s supposed to be a signal for Jake, a sort of temporary lighthouse to show him the way home.” Kevin grinned. “Then everyone stands around it and sings bawdy songs, just the sort old Jake is said to have liked best.”
Heather laughed. “Creating a welcoming atmosphere?” she suggested. “Oh, I hate to laugh about it. Poor Mele.”
“Don’t you believe it,” Mitch growled softly. “From all reports, he was no pussycat to live with. His ghost is much more fun.”
Mele returned at that moment with plates piled high with savory pancit. “They filled you in on my Jake? How I miss that man. But maybe this year.” She shook her head. “Maybe this year he’ll come back.”
The story about Jake lightened the mood among them and for the rest of the meal the talk was casual and impersonal. To her own surprise, Heather found she liked the pancit very much. “Philippino spaghetti,” Kevin called it. They lingered over after-dinner coffee, then Heather excused herself.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she explained, throwing a furtive glance toward Mitch. “I want to make up for it tonight.”
She rose and started toward the hall, but suddenly Mitch was with her, his hand on her arm. “I’ll see you to your door,” he told her smoothly.
She stopped, confused. She hadn’t expected this. “Oh, no Mitch. I think I’d better go by myself.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He began to lead her again. “If you try to make me stay, we’ll just end up creating a scene,” he warned her calmly.
She bit back a protest and walked a bit unsteadily as they climbed the stairs together. The rooms weren’t locked except with a bolt from inside.
“Here we are,” she said brightly as they reached her door. “Good night now.”
“Whether we have a good night or not is still to be seen,” he said softly, reaching to open the door for her. “May I come in?”
She stared up into his dark eyes. “No, Mitch. Please don’t.” She had to be firm.
She expected an argument and was surprised by the smile that curled his wide mouth. “What if I told you I wanted to see your drawings?” he asked teasingly. “It might actually be true.”
“My drawings?” She searched his gaze. “You mean you know about the pen-and-ink work I started doing today?”
“Of course I do.” He grinned. “It’s all over the island. Three kids on a water buffalo were the first to tell me, but after that at least five other people were eager to give me the news.”
She shook her head in wonder. “But how did they know it was so important to me?”
He shrugged. “This is like a small town. Everyone looks out for everyone else. They could tell. And they care.”
Did he care? she wondered. Did he really want to see her drawings, or was it just an excuse to get into her room? But she had to let him in at this point. And, as she spread her work before him on the bed and watched his expression as he studied them, she was glad she had. Whatever else might come between them, he’d always been her best critic.
“Well?” she asked breathlessly when he took too long before commenting. “What do you think?”
He looked up and nodded. “These are really good. You know, I think I like this medium much better than the pastels. You’ve caught hold of something here—I don’t know what you’d call it. A thread of humanity perhaps, especially in the faces.” His smile was slow and sure. “I’m impressed.”
She felt as if she were glowing all over. “I’m glad. I felt so right doing them. It was as though a whole new path unexpectedly opened up for me.” She shivered with excitement. “I’m really thrilled about it.”
He looked at her speculatively. “I’m glad.” After a pause, he added slowly, “I always was proud of your talent.”
She avoided his eyes. “Were you?” Why not tell the whole truth for a change? “There were times when I wasn’t sure of that.”
He sighed. “I know. There were times when I acted like a jerk. I had the rather immature idea that I was fighting all those rich folks for your soul.” His laugh was low and without humor. “I think I’ve gained a little tolerance and insight since then.”
She looked at him quickly, then away again. What could she say in response to such honesty? She put his statement into a safe place in her heart, intending to mull it over at some future time. She began to collect her papers again, wondering how she was going to ease him gently out of the room. In her anxiety, she began talking quickly, nervously. “I’m planning to go out to the beach to sketch some shells tomorrow. Kevin took me up on the hill today. Maybe he’ll know a good beach...”
Suddenly she was in his arms and he was taking the papers from her firmly. After setting them on the little desk in the corner of the room, he looked down into her eyes, his own fierce with unnamed anger. “You’re not going anywhere with Kevin,” he ordered. “If you want to go to the beach, I’ll take you.”
“But you have to work.”
“Yes, I have to work. But I’ll always make time for you, Heather. Don’t you know that?”
No, she didn’t know that. What had he ever done in the past to prove it? As though he read the thoughts rushing through her mind, he cupped her chin in his hand and said, “I let what we had slip away once before. I let Trevor take my place in your life. I’m not going to make the same mistake with Kevin.” His mouth came down to claim hers, spreading fierce fire through her veins.
She responded almost automatically, her body taking over while her mind tried to deal with what he’d said. What did he mean, he’d let Trevor take his place in her life? Trevor was her cousin, her friend. Mitch had always been so much more than that.
But she remembered how Trevor had escorted her to social functions, how Trevor had become her confidant as Mitch seemed to fade from their relationship. Had Mitch resented her dependence on her cousin? Apparently so.
“Mitch.” She tried to struggle out of his embrace, wanting to discuss the light he’d just thrown upon their past, but his arms tightened around her firmly, refusing to let her go.
“No, Heather,” he said softly into the hollow behind her ear, tickling the skin with his warm sweet breath and rubbing his face against her like a large jungle cat. “I’m not going to let you go. You might as well relax and enjoy it.”
He began an assault upon her senses with his tongue and lips, moving across her neck in sensuous seduction. At the same time his hands explored the curves of her back, massaging gently, urging compliance with his desire.
“Mitch, don’t do this,” she managed to say, but he paid no attention.
“You were made for this, Heather,” he insisted, quickly taking her up into his arms and laying her across the bed. “And I was made for it, too.”
He came down beside her, his fingers cupping her breast through her thin cotton shift. “Don’t you see how you fill my hand so exactly?” he murmured, smiling down at her. “Haven’t you ever noticed that our bodies fit together like parts of a puzzle? Without you, I’m only a fragment. Wi
th you, I’m whole.”
How could she maintain her resolve against a statement like that? Her heart was swelling with love for him, and she had to fight hard to keep from reaching up to pull him down on top of her.
“We’ve done too much of this sort of thing already, Mitch,” she told him shakily. “You really should go.”
The palm of his hand began a slow massage of her breast. “That’s just the missionary lady talking,” he murmured, leaning down to nip at her earlobe. “The real woman, hidden below the high collar and starched cloth, is saying something very different.”
His hand was stoking a fire she knew she wouldn’t be able to control. When he bent over her, taking his palm from her breast and searching for her nipple through the cloth with his teeth, she couldn’t hold back the involuntary movement of her hips, nor could she quiet the moan in her throat.
“You see?” he teased softly, his hot breath stimulating the nerve endings along the slope of her breast. “That’s the real woman talking.”
“You’re right,” she agreed breathlessly, “but the so-called real woman has no conscience, no control. The real Heather does.”
“Does she?” His hand traveled lower, caressing the curve of her stomach, reaching for the swell of her thighs. His fingers began to pull up her dress, slowly raising the hem. “We’ll see if we can convince her to put those bothersome items away for a while.”
He was pulling up her dress, and she began to panic. She put a hand down to stop him, but his mouth covered hers, distracting her, sending her senses spinning once again.
His body was so large, so warm, so exotically compelling. She wanted him to hold her in his arms all night long, to never let go. But she knew, if he did that, she would promise to stay, and that would be a disaster.
She had to make him stop. He couldn’t always win this way. If she gave in now, he’d never respect any commitment she made.
“Mitch, stop,” she insisted, trying to pull away. “I really do want you to stop.”
He’d pulled her hem up beyond her hips and now his hand slid down to take possession of what he’d unveiled. As she felt the warmth of his touch sweep in, she stiffened, trying to fend him off.
Charmed By You ((Destiny Bay Romances-The Islanders 5)) Page 12
