Pages of Passion

by Girard, Dara

  Noreen didn’t move, but she glanced away, no longer able to look at the pair while Mr. Smith’s words echoed in her ears. Who was he really? Why did he keep bothering her? Erickson’s behavior was eerily similar to her uncle’s, but her uncle had stopped working this kind of operation, last she heard. And why was Michael with that woman? Noreen ran to her cabin and fell on the bed in tears. Arlene had attracted another user. She squeezed her eyes closed. No, Michael wasn’t a user. She didn’t believe it. She’d been around her brothers and father, so she could spot one. No. What broke her heart was that as “Arlene” she’d attracted a man she could never have. Seeing Michael with The Princess only reinforced that he liked flashy, stylish women. He’d never look at Noreen. He’d treat her the same way Clyde did. She couldn’t blame him for wanting The Princess. They made an attractive couple.

  Today she’d felt the weight of Michael’s disappointment when she’d said no to his offer. He would have had dinner alone if she hadn’t suggested they eat together. She’d lost her charm. Maybe Mr. Smith was right and he toyed with women like her father and brothers did. Perhaps he had a dozen Saint Christopher medals that he gave to women. He had admitted that he knew the island. What if this is what he did all the time? Maybe he called her “Angel” because he couldn’t remember her name, the same way her brothers called every woman “baby.”

  She was a fool. Noreen sat up and wiped her eyes. A contact popped out and she fumbled on the bed, trying to find it, keeping her “good eye” open. When she finally felt it she shook her head, glad it was disposable. Fine, she was a fool but that didn’t mean she had to be one for the rest of the trip. She’d use this experience and include it in her next book. She took out her other contact and put on her glasses. Time with Michael had already provided her many ideas so at least their time together had been beneficial.

  Noreen changed into something more comfortable. At home that would have consisted of sweats, but because she was Arlene she wore a light blue silk loungewear set. Her sister never dressed down. Even when they were children, Arlene hated to get dirty while Noreen loved playing outside in the grass.

  Noreen sat at her side table and wrote in her journal. In her manuscript she had her heroine write a love letter. Adrienne, her heroine, was a character who had trouble expressing her emotions, and Noreen knew this would be a good way to add passion to the story. She knew it was old-fashioned, but for a character who spent most of her time distant from people, using mostly texting and email to communicate, a handwritten letter would be a more intimate and revealing activity. Something the hero could hold on to.

  Noreen allowed herself to be Adrienne and imagined writing to the hero as if he were Michael and their relationship had been something more.

  My dearest,

  It took me three hours to decide to write you this letter, but the silence over the last few days has been torturous. Sometimes I hate you because I want you so much. I miss you. You are the first thought that enters my mind in the morning and the last thought before I go to sleep. You haunt my dreams and I know there is no cure for how I feel about you. I want to be with you always. I love you. I need you and I want you in my life. Love, A

  After she’d finished, Noreen took off her glasses and rested her head back. She imagined the letter in print, and pictured a possible cover. Perhaps it could have a fountain pen and parchment paper with a red rose. Maybe she could incorporate more letters throughout the manuscript and include another love affair. Or she could also have Adrienne send him perfume-scented note cards that she’d slide under his door or slip in his mail or tape to his car’s windshield. Yes, that was it. Feeling rejuvenated, Noreen decided to call room service and ordered a pot of coffee then started on another love letter.

  A knock on the door interrupted her. Noreen scowled, annoyed by the interruption then she remembered the coffee she’d ordered. She left her glasses on the table and opened the door. She saw a large blurry figure without a tray.

  “What happened?” the figure asked in Michael’s voice.

  Michael? He wasn’t supposed to be there. Noreen opened her mouth then closed it. She didn’t know what to say to him so she did the first thing that came to mind. She slammed the door shut.

  Chapter Twelve

  “What the—Angel, open up.”

  Noreen leaned against the door, trying to figure out what to do next. “Just a minute,” she said. She had to hide her glasses and put in her contacts.

  He pounded harder. “Angel!”

  “Just a second.” Noreen raced over to her desk and grabbed her glasses and hid them in their case, which she usually kept in the bathroom. She quickly gathered up her papers and shoved them into her journal.

  “I’m going to break down this door if you don’t open it up.”

  He would. Noreen swore. She didn’t have enough time to put in her contacts. She opened the door.

  Michael stormed into the room. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” she said, squinting a little so she could focus on his face. It didn’t help.

  “Don’t lie to me. Why did you slam the door in my face?”

  Noreen inched toward the bathroom. “Will you excuse me a minute?”

  “No.”

  “Michael,” she said with exasperation.

  “You told me you had a headache. You didn’t tell me you were sick.”

  “I’m not.”

  He pointed at her. “Then why—” A knock on the door interrupted him. He spun around. “Who’s that?”

  Noreen’s hopes lifted. It was just the excuse she needed. “Could you answer that for me? I’ll be right out.” She raced into the bathroom and closed the door before he could argue. She searched for her contacts and quickly popped them in then looked at herself in the mirror and nearly let out a scream. She looked awful. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying and her eyeliner had smudged, making her look like a raccoon.

  “Are you okay in there?” Michael demanded.

  “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “You have thirty seconds.”

  Noreen muttered something rude under her breath.

  “I heard that,” he said.

  “Then get away from the door,” she shot back. She quickly scrubbed her face then reapplied her eyeliner. Her eyes were still a little red, but she looked more presentable. Feeling better and happy now that she could see clearly, Noreen left the bathroom and saw Michael reading something on her desk.

  “What are you doing?”

  “‘Love, A’?” He held up the paper. “What’s this?”

  She walked over to him. “None of your business.”

  His tone hardened. “Try again.”

  Noreen snatched the paper away. “It’s personal.”

  “It’s a love letter.”

  Noreen was about to say “So what?” when she suddenly understood that he thought A stood for Arlene. “It’s not what you think.”

  He folded his arms. “Then explain it to me.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Michael muttered something she couldn’t understand then slapped his forehead. “I’m an idiot. I really thought you were different. I believed in you, but you’re used to playing with men. You’ve got us tied up in your spider-web. First Harris, then me and now this guy. I fooled myself into thinking you actually cared about me.”

  Noreen rested her hands on her hips. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “I saw you on the deck, kissing another woman.”

  He stared at her, nonplussed. “I see.”

  Noreen let her arms fall. “At least you didn’t deny it. I have to give you points for that.”

  “It was nothing more than an awkward moment.” He took a deep breath. “We used to be lovers and—”

  “And she wants you back.”

  “Something like that.”

  “I think it’s exactly like that. Do you want her?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

>   “Really? I thought you had important business to take care of.”

  He frowned. “You followed me?”

  “No, I wanted to see you. I had something to say.”

  “What?”

  She waved the idea aside. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “You don’t have to worry about her. It’s over between us.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “She does now. I made myself clear.”

  “Before or after you kissed her?”

  He tapped his chest, affronted. “She kissed me.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Is that what this is about?” he asked. “You saw me and thought I was cheating, which, by the way, is impossible because we haven’t talked about being exclusive anyway.”

  “You’re rambling.”

  He ran a hand over his face. “Damn. You must be rubbing off on me.” He pointed at her. “Admit that you’re jealous. That you wrote this letter out of spite because you don’t want me to be with any other woman but you.”

  No, I wrote that letter for a novel, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t tell him that. And she wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing she was jealous. “It was for you,” she lied.

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  Noreen swallowed her sense of panic and searched her thoughts, desperate to expand on her lie. “I was just imagining what I would do if I never saw you again.” She flashed an uneasy smile. “Some women write in their diaries. I write love letters.”

  Michael’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why did you think you wouldn’t see me again?”

  “You know why.”

  “Because of what you thought you saw or because of Clyde?”

  Noreen’s cell phone rang and she grabbed it, once again glad for an interruption.

  Michael reached for the phone. “Don’t answer it.”

  She moved it out of his reach. “It could be important.” Noreen looked at the ID and saw Clyde’s number. She silently swore. “Speak of the devil.”

  “It’s him?”

  She nodded, staring down at the phone.

  “Break up with him now.”

  Noreen looked up at him, stunned. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just can’t.”

  He reached for the phone again. “Then I’ll do it for you.”

  Noreen stepped back. “And I’ll never talk to you again.”

  “Angel,” Michael warned.

  She knew there was one more ring before it went to voice mail, but she had to talk to Clyde. Now. She didn’t want to have to get back to him. Arlene trusted her to keep up the charade and keep Clyde interested. She turned her back and walked away from Michael. “Hello?”

  “Is that any way to greet me?” Clyde said.

  “Sorry,” Noreen said, searching her mind to figure out how Arlene would address him. “Hey, baby.”

  “That’s better. Everything okay?”

  She didn’t look at Michael. “Everything’s fine.”

  “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too.”

  Michael walked up to her. Noreen held up a warning finger and mouthed “Don’t touch me.”

  He held up his hands in a show of obedience.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” Clyde asked.

  “I’d have more fun if you were here with me,” she said, imitating Arlene’s coy tone.

  Michael’s hands fell to his hips.

  Clyde laughed. “What are you wearing?”

  “Your coffee’s getting cold,” Michael said.

  “Who’s that?” Clyde asked in a suspicious tone. “Is someone there?”

  Noreen glared at Michael. “There’s no one here. It’s just the TV.”

  Michael sat on the bed.

  “Sounded like someone was in the room.”

  Noreen turned away from him and lightened her voice. “Oh, yes…that’s just the steward. He’s delivered my coffee.”

  “You don’t drink coffee.”

  Damn, he was right. Arlene hated coffee. She shook her head. “I mean hot chocolate,” she said then yelped when Michael pulled her onto his lap.

  “Arlene?” Clyde said, sounding worried.

  “I’m still here.” She elbowed Michael; he tightened his hold.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound distracted.”

  Noreen removed Michael’s hand from under her shirt. “I’ve had a long day.”

  “Are you sure that’s all? You sound a little breathless.”

  “Because you take my breath away, baby.”

  Michael growled; Noreen slapped his leg.

  Clyde lowered his voice. “And you know what you do to me,” he said.

  Noreen closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn’t tell her. Michael pressed his lips against the back of her neck then touched her skin with the tip of his tongue. She gripped the phone. “Um…baby, you’re starting to break up. I’ll try to call you later.”

  “Are you sure everything is okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re ready for St. Lagans?”

  “Definitely.” Michael nipped her skin with his teeth and her body tingled. She had to get off the phone fast. “I…barely…hear…” she said, leaving out words so he’d think the connection was bad. “Better…go. ’Bye.” She disconnected then turned to Michael. “You’re impossible.”

  “Why did you tell him you were drinking hot chocolate?”

  “Because he doesn’t like me drinking coffee.”

  Michael’s eyes pierced hers. “Next time you’re going to tell him about me.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  Noreen wiggled off his lap and stood. “I can’t. You have no idea what you’re asking me.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “There’s a lot at stake. He’s been good to me. I owe him. I’ve known him for months and you for less than a week. He’s the reason I’m on this trip. He paid for everything. I can’t hurt him like that. I love him. You may not understand that, but I do.”

  “Then why were you crying?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is it because you saw me with another woman?” He didn’t let her answer. “Why would that bother you when you have Clyde? Don’t I have the right to belong to someone the way you do?”

  “You’re right,” Noreen said, suddenly weary. “Let’s end this now. It’s been fun but it’s getting complicated. You can go back to your princess—”

  “My princess?”

  “Yes, that’s what she was at the masquerade ball.”

  His eyes brightened. “So you noticed me then too?”

  “That’s not the point,” she said, irritated by his amusement. “It’s over. You’ve got whatever-her-name-is and—”

  “Joy.”

  “What?”

  “Her name is Joy.”

  Noreen clenched her teeth. “Does it matter?”

  He shrugged. “I thought you might want to know.”

  “You’re ruining my moment. If you haven’t noticed, we’re breaking up.”

  “Sorry, go on.” He made a motion of zipping his lips.

  “Right,” she said, annoyed by his mocking tone. “You go back to Joy and I’ll go back to Clive…uh, Clyde,” she hastily corrected. “And that’s it. No one gets hurt. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be alone.” She walked over to her side table and sat. She opened her journal and began writing.

  Michael walked up to her and peered over her shoulder. “Are you writing another love letter?”

  She stiffened. “Go away.”

  He toyed with the soft hairs on the back of her neck. “That’s what you expect me to do, isn’t it?”

  She swatted his hand away. “There’s nothing else to say.”

  He rested his arms on the back of her chair. “I think you have the same issues your sister has but you hide it better. You don’t trust people to stay, but I promise you th
is.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Noreen turned to him. She desperately wanted to believe him as she sought reassurance in his eyes. But a series of questions flooded her. Were there other women in his past like Joy? How could a man who traveled a lot promise anything? Was he really all that he seemed?

  But did she have a right to ask those questions when she was wearing a façade? Did the answers really matter when they probably would never see each other again? All that mattered was now. That he was here with her. She didn’t care about the reason why. And he’d proven Mr. Smith, the stranger from the ballroom, wrong.

  He hadn’t used her. He wanted to be with her and he’d told her the truth about the woman on the deck. She could tell him the truth too. “I’ll tell you why I was crying.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “I was crying because there are so many things I can’t tell you. I was crying because when you asked me to stay on the island with you, I wished I could say yes. And if my life were my own, I’d follow you anywhere and that’s the truth.”

  “I believe you,” Michael said softly then he held her close. “This might be the worst mistake of my life, but I do.” He kissed her on the forehead then pulled away and unbuttoned his shirt.

  Noreen stared at him, curious. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready for bed.” He placed his shirt on the dresser then undid his trousers.

  “Here?”

  “Yes.”

  “But your cabin is nicer.”

  “I know.” He pulled down the sheets. “It’s bigger, better decorated and more expensive.” He climbed into bed and pulled up the covers to his waist. “There’s just one problem with it.”

  “What?”

  He smiled at her. “You’re not in it.” He nodded to her desk. “Have your coffee—excuse me, hot chocolate—and work on whatever you’re doing. I can keep myself busy.” He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.