Island Interlude

by Anne McAllister

  Libby supposed that anyone with an ounce of sensi­tivity would. Intellectually you might be able to say that Clive Gilbert had died doing his job, but emotionally it would be like having someone die in your stead. She shuddered at the thought.

  'And Margo has been no help at all. She hasn't even been around. Took herself off right after the funeral. So sensitive, everyone said.' Mrs Braden clucked her dis­approval. 'Anyway, Alec's come to his folks' for some well deserved rest and relaxation, and Catherine—that's his mother—is determined to cheer him up, so she's having a few people over. Life does go on, you know.'

  'Yes,' Libby agreed, with all the naïveté of eighteen years.

  Evelyn Braden smiled. 'So, if you could take the kids to the beach for an evening picnic while we're gone, it would be greatly appreciated.'

  So she did. And after she and the children had eaten the picnic supper that Maddy had packed for them, Libby sat on a towel watching Alicia build a sand-castle and Tony snorkel inside the reef.

  Every once in a while, when the wind shifted, she could hear the sounds of laughter from beyond the thick banks of shrubs that rose up the hill behind the beach.

  Life did, it seemed, go on. And, Libby thought, it sounded as if Alec Blanchard and company were enjoying it.

  Let them. Libby didn't need a party or booze or any of the things the Alec Blanchards of the world required. She had the sand and the surf and the setting sun. She, who had detassled corn, picked beans and mucked out hog barns, was having a summer she would never forget as long as she lived. She lay back and closed her eyes, content.

  A shadow fell, blocking out the sun.

  A spattering of water dropped on her. Her eyes snapped open, expecting to see a squall moving in.

  She saw a man standing over her, dripping wet.

  'Hello.'

  His voice was rough and warm, slightly smoky. It reminded Libby of the sip of brandy David Braden had permitted her after dinner the night before.

  She stared, then swallowed. 'H-hello.'

  He was not the sort of man to whom she was accus­tomed to speaking. Even in her new, glitzy summer life­style, men like this—lean, dark, handsome men who made her pulses flutter and her palms damp—were few and far between.

  She glanced around wildly, wondering where Tony and Alicia had got to. A wave of relief washed over her when she spotted them dashing in and out of the waves down the beach.

  'Tony! Lisha! Come on back!' she called at once, anxious to establish the fact that she wasn't alone.

  The man glanced in the direction of the children, then turned back to her. He grinned. 'Calling in the reinforcements?'

  Libby coloured, abashed at how transparent her motive must have seemed. But heaven knew she would need reinforcements, unless he was planning on simply passing by.

  That he wasn't became immediately obvious. He sat down on the sand next to her towel, and when the children ran up seconds later he had a grin for them, too. 'Hi, Tony, Hi, Lisha.'

  Both children stopped dead.

  Then, 'Alec!' Alicia shrieked and flung her arms around him.

  Tony let out a whoop. 'Alec! They said you were here!'

  Libby stared. Alec? Alec Blanchard? This man was Alec Blanchard, famous actor, household word? She wondered that she hadn't recognised him, then realised that she'd never seen him in a movie dripping wet.

  But if he was the Alec Blanchard, the man for whom the party was being held right up the hill, what was he doing here?

  She opened her mouth to ask when a lilting female voice called, 'Yoohoo, Alec?' from somewhere up beyond the trees.

  The man sitting next to her groaned. He glanced around almost desperately, then held out his hand to Tony. 'Lend me your snorkel.' He looked at the three of them. 'You haven't seen me,' he said. Without waiting for a confirmation of his blatant lie, he strode towards the water and dived beneath the surf.

  Libby stared at the spot where he'd disappeared, but the waves broke over it, and if the tip of the snorkel was visible, it wasn't by much.

  Moments later a diminutive dark-haired woman and a tall twentyish blonde appeared where the path opened on to the beach. The older dark-haired woman scanned the beach, her hands on her hips, her expression grim. The blonde headed right for Libby and the children.

  'I'm looking for Alec Blanchard. Have you seen him?'

  Tony and Alicia looked at Libby, tight-lipped, wide-eyed. And Libby, who'd never told a lie in her life, looked right at the woman and said, 'No, ma'am.'

  'You do know who he is?'

  'Yes, ma'am,' Libby said dutifully.

  The woman sighed again, this time, Libby suspected, as much at her apparent lack of wit as at Alec's dis­appearance. 'Well, if you do see him, tell him…' She broke off and ran a hand through stylishly windswept hair. 'Never mind,' she said. 'He knows.'

  Turning on her heel, she walked back up the beach to join the older woman. 'Apparently he hasn't been here, Catherine.'

  Alec's mother, Libby decided, remembering that Catherine was what Mrs Braden had called her. She had the same dark good looks, too. She looked worried now, not annoyed as the blonde did.

  'Poor Alec,' Libby heard her say. She gave Libby a fleeting smile which made her feel guilty for the deception, then the two of them picked their way through the sand spurs back up the path from the beach.

  Libby watched them go, curious. Why was Alec Blanchard avoiding them? Why was he avoiding a party given in his honour?

  She looked back out at the ocean. A sleek dark head bobbed to the surface momentarily, then disappeared again.

  'We should be going,' she said to Tony and Alicia.

  'Can't,' Tony said. 'I gotta get my snorkel.'

  'He'll get it back to you,' Libby promised.

  'I want to wait.'

  In fact, Libby did, too. She wanted to know more about this man she had just lied for, wanted to feel again the shiver of awareness, the fundamental attraction that had jolted her the moment her eyes met his.

  'Just a few minutes, then,' she agreed. So she sat back down on the beach in the deepening twilight, building a sand-castle with Alicia and Tony, ignoring the bursts of laughter and gaiety from the party still going on; ignoring, too, the periodic appearances of the blonde woman when she came down to scan the beach. And she determinedly paid no attention at all to the oc­casional appearance of Alec's sleek dark head above the waves.

  At last it was too dark to wait any longer. He showed no signs of coming ashore, and Libby realised that he was probably going to wait until they left as well. To be sure, it would save him from having to answer a myriad questions from Alicia and Tony.

  'Come on,' Libby said finally. 'We're going.' She picked up her towel, got Tony and Alicia to gather the picnic things, and herded them, still protesting, up the beach.

  The twilight seemed to vanish as Libby picked her way up the path to Bradens' house.

  'Slow down,' she called to Tony who was bounding on ahead with the only light in the jungly blackness. The beam bobbed and swayed as he skipped up the path and around the bend of the mangroves with Alicia following him.

  'Tony!' Libby, the towel slung around her shoulders, the picnic basket banging against her knees, tripped and would have fallen if a pair of strong hands hadn't reached from behind just then and grabbed her.

  A shriek started from her lips, only to be smothered with a kiss. It was a brief kiss, lasting just long enough to shift the axis of her world.

  'Shh,' a voice said against her mouth, and she would have recognised that smoky sound anywhere. 'It's just me.'

  Alec.

  'And I didn't go to all that trouble to avoid them, just to have you let them know where I am now, did I?'

  Numbly, Libby shook her head, her heart going double time, bells ringing in her head. He'd kissed her! Alec Blanchard had kissed her.

  Even now he was still holding her arms, his hands cool and damp against her overheated skin. Her lips tingled. Her mind spun. That kiss! Had it been
just to shut her up or…?

  But she couldn't even form the thought in her mind.

  'S-sorry,' she spluttered and expected him to let go of her then, but he didn't. One hand dropped away and took the picnic basket out of her grasp, but the other slid down her arm and she felt his fingers lock firmly with hers.

  'Come on. Let's catch up with the kids.' Then he towed her, dazed and disbelieving, up the path through the woods.

  Tony and Alicia were waiting on the porch.

  'I knew you'd bring it,' Tony said, taking the snorkel from him, while Libby fumbled in her beach-bag for the house key. When she finally found it, her nerveless fingers dropped it, and she watched, mortified, as Alec bent to scoop it up.

  'Allow me.' Unlocking the door, he pushed it open, then stepped back as Libby and the children entered.

  Libby, still flustered from the memory of his mouth on hers, slanted him a quick glance as she passed. He winked. Her face flamed.

  'Just put the picnic things in the kitchen,' she mumbled. 'Thank you for carrying it back. Excuse me now. I have to get the kids ready for bed.'

  'But—' Tony protested.

  'Alec's here. We have to—' Alicia began.

  'Baths. And then bed,' Libby insisted with all the authority she could muster. 'It's late.'

  Shooing Tony and Alicia ahead of her, she fled up­stairs, praying that the man who unnerved her so would be gone by the time she came back.

  She got the children through baths in record time and, while they were getting into pyjamas, she grabbed a quick shower herself. Tony wanted to come down and say goodnight to Alec. Alicia wanted him to read them a bedtime story. Libby said a firm no to both.

  'I'm sure he's gone back to his party.'

  'I don't think he wanted to be at his party,' Tony said frankly.

  'He's too much of a gentleman to stay away the whole time,' Libby replied. 'He probably just needed a break. Now brush your teeth and scoot on to bed.'

  Alicia tugged on her arm. 'Read to us?'

  Libby sighed. She wanted nothing more than to go downstairs into the privacy of the living-room, where she could run the amazing events of the evening over in her mind. But she wasn't here to daydream. She read them a chapter of their current book, then kissed them both and put out the light. Then, breathing a sigh of relief, touching her still tingling lips with her fingers, she pulled the door shut and tiptoed down the steps.

  Alec was leaning against the wall. Still sandy, still wearing only a pair of swimming trunks, he smiled up at her. 'At last.'

  Libby stopped stock still and stared. He was, she was quite certain now, the most attractive man she'd ever seen. His sheer masculine power rendered her mute, and she might have stood there forever if his grin hadn't widened.

  'Taking root, are you?' he teased.

  Face flaming, she licked her lips and slowly came the rest of the way down. 'I—I thought you'd left. What about your party?'

  'They aren't missing me.'

  'They came looking.'

  'That was two hours ago when they were feeling like good Samaritans. By now I'm sure they're feeling no pain.' There was a wry weariness in his tone that made her take a closer look at him.

  He had shaken her to the foundation of her being when he had kissed her, but she thought now that he looked shaken himself. There was a haunted look in his dark eyes that she didn't imagine was normal for Alec Blanchard. And she doubted it was the kiss that had rattled him, but something far more earth-shattering. She remembered Clive Gilbert.

  'You are,' she said softly. 'In pain, I mean.'

  Alec's eyes narrowed and he looked at her sharply.

  Libby stood her ground, unflinching under his gaze.

  He sighed. 'Bright girl,' he said. 'Perceptive.'

  Libby shrugged self-consciously. She'd had only to look at him to realise that what Mrs Braden had said was true: Alec Blanchard was suffering.

  And however much his parents might have tried to distract him, a party was not the solace he was looking for.

  'Would you like some coffee or something? I mean, if you're going to stay?'

  He smiled. 'Thanks. Coffee.'

  She started towards the kitchen, then turned back. 'If you're going to… hang around, you—er—might want a shower. And Mr Braden probably has some clothes you could wear.'

  Alec just looked at her for a moment. Then he smiled. It was a smile that melted her. 'Right,' he said softly and padded towards the bathroom.

  While Alec showered Libby fetched a pair of shorts and a T-shirt from David Braden's wardrobe, telling herself that what she was doing was perfectly all right, that Alec was a friend of the Bradens, that they would approve.

  But she knew she really didn't care whether they approved or not.

  Good or bad, right or wrong; suddenly it didn't mean anything to her. She had sensed a need in Alec Blanchard, and she was filling it. She was operating on another plane of reality altogether.

  She set the clothes just inside the door of the steamy bathroom and shut it again quickly, not permitting herself even a glimpse of the naked male form behind the shower door. Then, hands clammy, pulse pounding, she went out to the kitchen to make the coffee and, while she was there, poured herself a tall glass of iced tea.

  She was drinking it rapidly when Alec reappeared. He was barefoot, his hair tousled and damp. David Braden's shirts and shorts were much too big for Alec. But in spite of the ill-fitting clothes he looked wonderful to Libby.

  'Much better,' Alec said, smiling a devastating smile and combing his hair with his fingers.

  Libby swallowed. 'C-coffee's ready.'

  He took the cup from her, sipped it, then regarded her solemnly over the top. His eyes were dark and knowing, the sort of eyes that could see to the bottom of your soul, Libby thought. Her own eyes fluttered away.

  'So you're the summer girl,' he said.

  Libby blinked. 'What? Oh, you mean the nanny? Yes.' She hadn't heard the term before, but it fitted. She felt so different here from the way she did back home, almost as if she were two different girls, had two different existences—a summer life and a regular one. Especially tonight.

  'You like it here?' he asked her.

  She nodded quickly. 'Oh, yes. It's so…new. So different.'

  'From where?'

  'Iowa.'

  Alec smiled. 'Should have been Kansas.'

  'Why?'

  'You look like the sort who'd have a dog named Toto and an Auntie Em.'

  Libby felt her cheeks burn. 'A hayseed, in other words.' What had she expected? That he'd find her attractive? A worldly man like Alec Blanchard?

  But Alec shook his head. 'Not a hayseed. An innocent. You look pure, undefiled.'

  Now Libby's cheeks were positively aflame. 'I suppose you think that's a compliment?' she said archly.

  He nodded. 'I do.'

  But it didn't feel that way to Libby. It felt rather as if she'd been tried and found wanting. He could at least have thought she looked a bit worldly, even if she wasn't!

  'Let's go out on the deck,' he said, and reached over to flick off the light. Still mortified, Libby stayed where she was until a strong hand reached back and snagged hers, towing her in his wake.

  Alec dropped her hand when they were outside, leaning against the railing, staring out into the darkness. The moon behind him caught his profile in silhouette, out­lining the strong nose, the determined chin, the lips that had—so briefly—touched hers.

  'I owe you one, summer girl,' he said quietly.

  Libby looked at him, confused. 'One what?'

  'A thank you, I guess. For hiding me. I didn't need fun and games tonight. I appreciate it.'

  Libby shrugged. 'I'm glad. Those ladies didn't.'

  He grimaced. 'I know.'

  'Was one of them your mother?'

  'Yeah.'

  'She looked worried.'

  'She is worried. Thinks I should smile more, cheer up. "Put on a happy face."' His voice was bitter as he echoed
her words.

  Libby debated how to reply to that. Good sense told her just to nod, not to let on that she knew what he meant. But he was hurting. She could see it. And Libby didn't like people to suffer pain. Throwing caution to the winds, she plunged in.

  'I—I heard about… about Clive Gilbert,' she said in a low tone, one that he could ignore if he chose. 'I'm sorry.'

  He didn't ignore it. He turned his head and looked at her. 'Sorry?' His tone was even more bitter. 'Yeah, me too. I'm sorry as hell. But it doesn't bring Clive back, does it?'

  He was almost glaring at her, daring her to minimise his pain. She couldn't see so much as feel the intensity of his gaze. They were so close that the heat from his body warmed hers. But it wasn't the heat so much as the pain that she wanted to share.

  Instinctively she reached out and touched his cheek. 'No,' she said. 'No. Nothing will bring him back.'

  She expected that he would jerk away or bat her hand down. But he didn't move, and she felt his cheek, cool and rough beneath her palm.

  From down along the beach came the sound of waves rushing along the sand. From far overhead Libby heard the hum of a propeller engine. From out of the darkness came the croak of a frog, the hum of a hundred insects. But louder than all of them was the thrum of the blood in her head.

  Then Alec muttered, 'Oh, lord,' and reached for her, hauling her into his arms.

  This kiss wasn't brief; it wasn't grateful. It was hungry, desperate, needy. It asked for things that Libby didn't even know she had to give. But she didn't say no.

  Alec's lips were as warm as his skin was cool. They brought her to life, opened vistas to her she'd never imagined. His hands moulded her body against his, letting her feel the surge of arousal in him. His hips pressed into hers, his mouth locked with hers, his hands slid under her shirt, seeking her breasts, finding them.

  Libby whimpered, her own need astonishing her, filling her, and instinctively she leaned into him. It felt so good, so right to comfort him.

  And then, quite suddenly, Alec pulled back.

  Not far. Just enough so that the cool night air slipped between their heated bodies. Just far enough so she could hear the desperate rasp of his breathing.

  And in it she could still hear his pain. She touched him again, her fingers caressing his neck, and this time he did flinch.