by Janet Dailey
"I have always made it a rule never to discuss politics…especially with reporters, Mr. Ramsey," Victoria countered smoothly.
"Dirk," he corrected with an easy laugh. "You forgot to stab with the name, It's much more effective when you do."
Victoria despaired of ever finding a way to penetrate that complacent exterior of his. He always seemed so totally in command of every situation, and she always felt maneuvered. With a barely concealed sigh Victoria turned her head to view the scenery the buggy was passing.
"This is a beautiful island," Dirk remarked.
Again, Victoria was shaken by the impression he was diverting the conversation to a safer topic because he knew she couldn't cope with the sexual double-talk they had been exchanging. And it was true.
"It's a very historic place, too." Victoria accepted the new topic and elaborated on it. "There are many places to see."
"Yes, I noticed the old fort when we flew in."
"It's still in its original form. It was built by the British during the American Revolution and used again by them during the War of 1812." She was beginning to sound ridiculously like a tour guide and immediately stopped talking.
"Can I persuade you to take me on a tour of the island some day while I'm here?" He eyed her with a wicked glint as if he had been reading her mind.
"You would learn more if you took the official State Park Carriage tour," Victoria countered.
"Yes, but I might have a guide that would resemble the horses. You are easier on the eye, if a little disturbing to the senses," Dirk replied.
"I find it hard to believe anything would disturb you." She had a little trouble breathing normally after that provocative comment.
"You do." When she didn't respond, he gave her a mocking look. "Isn't that what you wanted to hear?"
"Not particularly." She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the sensual tension in the atmosphere.
The trees thinned out as the horse-drawn taxi turned into the driveway that curved in front of the two-story stucco and brick home trimmed in dark wood. It seemed a short ride, but Victoria was relieved it was almost over.
"Here is your package," Dirk handed her the bag she had wedged between them on the seat, a paper barrier that really hadn't protected her very well from his unsettling presence.
"Thank you." She took it as the buggy stopped in front of the main entrance.
Dirk stepped out first to help her down. Remembering the last time Victoria kept her arms rigidly straight to maintain a distance. Her feet touched the ground a foot from where he was standing.
Dirk paid the driver and held up a silencing hand when she began a protest. "No arguments."
"Or else?" she challenged, ignoring the driver who was smiling at their exchange as he clicked to his horse.
"Or else I really will believe you are one of those spoiled, little rich girls who always wants her way," he replied.
A threat would have been preferable to that comment. Now she didn't dare argue, which had been his aim all along. Simmering behind the mask of composure Victoria walked to the sheltered roof of the entryway.
Before she reached the door, the iron gate to the breezeway and terrace swung open with a rasping protest of metal. Penny came gliding through, feigning surprise when she saw Dirk and Victoria.
"Hello, you made it back, I see," she smiled brightly and Victoria knew her sister wasn't addressing her.
"Safe and sound," Dirk agreed with a hint of a different kind of amusement in his smile.
"Dad wanted to see you, something about fishing, I think," Penny passed the message on to Dirk. Victoria decided that explained why her younger sister was dressed in the belled slacks and white top—and why the nautical hat was perched so saucily atop her blond head.
"Thanks." Dirk opened the front door and held it for Victoria.
"Oh, Tory, can I talk to you for a minute?" Penny asked with feigned nonchalance. Taking the affirmative answer for granted she turned and walked back through the open gates to the breezeway. Victoria followed.
"What is it you wanted, Penny?" She had a pretty good idea.
"I want to borrow your red Windbreaker."
"Going fishing?" Victoria couldn't help teasing just a little.
"Yes, dad asked me to go with them…him," she corrected, instantly on the defensive. Just as quickly Penny changed to attack. "Honestly, Tory, I don't know whatever possessed you to invite Dirk along with you this morning."
"I didn't invite him, he invited himself," Victoria made that point clear.
"Either way you shouldn't have stayed gone all morning," Penny retorted. "Someone should remind you that Dirk is here because he wants to talk with dad."
"I think I am more aware of the reason for his visit than you are." Victoria found her younger sister's criticism a little irritating.
"If you are, then you shouldn't be monopolizing Dirk's time. I realize you must be desperate for a man to pay some attention to you, but—" Penny was giving a very good imitation of adult disdain.
"Listen, little girl," Victoria interrupted in seething anger. "You had better hold your jealous little tongue until you know what you are talking about, because Dirk Ramsey is the last man that I would want any attention from. And before you make a complete and utter fool of yourself, you might remember that he is twice your age!"
She saw the tears spring into Penny's eyes and the veneer of adulthood shatter. Victoria immediately regretted that she had been so harsh and angry, but it was too late. Whirling away on a choked sob, Penny dashed into the house with her long hair trailing like a blond cloud behind her.
"He has us fighting among ourselves now," Victoria murmured and bit at her lower lip. "Divide and conquer."
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Chapter Six
EVERYONE WENT FISHING except Victoria. Her mother tried to persuade her to come with them, but Victoria was adamant in her refusal. Her reason was twofold. The tension of the morning with Dirk had not left her, and Penny would undoubtedly think she was competing for Dirk's attention. Josie sent the fishing party off with a basket of sandwiches, snacks, and cold drinks in case they were late returning.
It was late in the evening before they trouped into the kitchen with their catch. Victoria was there helping Josie with the night's meal so it would be ready within minutes of the fishing party's return. She looked up from the relish tray she was preparing when the boisterous group entered the kitchen. Her glance ricocheted off Dirk's lazily smiling countenance to encompass her parents and sister.
"Did you have a good time?" Victoria asked pleasantly, although their happy, flushed faces revealed the answer.
"The best!" Penny declared and sent a sideways glance at Dirk.
"Josie, I heard you wishing the other day for some really fresh fish. Here you are!" Charles Beaumont proudly deposited their catch in the sink. "How is that?"
The housekeeper exclaimed over them as if she had discovered a treasure. Victoria looked in the sink at the fish and added her praise of their size to Josie's, then returned to the side counter to finish the relish tray. Dirk leaned a hip against the counter near where she was working. Victoria became conscious of how small the horseshoe-shaped kitchen suddenly seemed.
"Mmm, stuffed olives, my favorite," Dirk observed and reached to take a half dozen from the tray.
"Quit stealing." She started to tap at his hand with the side of the fork she held, but it was already out of striking distance.
"Stealing, am I?" he challenged softly and forced an olive between her lips, his fingers lingering on the lower curve after her teeth had bitten into the olive. "You're eating them, too, so that makes you equally guilty."
"No, it doesn't," Victoria denied and wished he would move away. That plaid shirt and his snug-fitting denims gave him an earthy look that was vital and raw in its compulsion. A lake breeze had rumpled his raven hair and Victoria felt an urge to smooth it into place.
"You look very domestic." His intonation im
plied that looks were deceiving.
"I'm not lost in a kitchen," she retorted. She stopped trying to field his remarks and began asking questions of her own. "How many fish did you catch?"
"Only two," Dirk answered and popped another olive into his mouth. "I'm not much of a fisherman." It didn't sound as though it bothered him.
Penny walked over in time to catch his reply. "You may not have caught the most, Dirk, but you caught the biggest." She came to his defense immediately.
"So I did." The warm look he gave Penny ignited a spark of anger in Victoria. He had no right to encourage Penny's infatuation.
Taking the nautical cap off her head, Penny raised on tiptoe to place it on top of Dirk's dark hair. "I crown you King of the Fishermen!" she declared all in fun.
"If I'm king, that entitles me to a kiss, doesn't it?" Dirk flirted with gentle mockery.
"Sure," Penny agreed, a shade breathlessly and Victoria wanted to scream.
But she was incapable of making even a strangled protest as Dirk bent and kissed Penny on her cheek very near the corner of her mouth. It looked innocent enough, but Victoria didn't like the expression in those mirror-black eyes. Instead of releasing Penny entirely, Dirk curved her to his side. Automatically her sister slid her arm behind his waist while he absently rubbed her shoulder. Victoria seethed at the way Penny was practically purring out loud.
She had to say something or burst. "Where did a street boy like you learn to fish, Dirk?" Victoria challenged with an undertone of sarcasm.
"I didn't, not as a boy," he replied. "In fact, I was twenty-six before I ever had a fishing pole in my hands. The owner of the weekly newspaper I worked for took me fishing one weekend."
"What did you catch?" Penny tipped her head back to look at him, her attitude deliberately provocative.
"A few tree limbs and sunken logs—it took me a while to get the knack of casting," Dirk smiled. "Eventually I think I caught one fish, but maybe not."
Victoria shot a glance at her parents. It appeared they didn't see anything wrong with Dirk hugging their teenaged daughter. If she stayed there another minute, Victoria knew she was going to knock Dirk's hand away and yank Penny away from him, so she picked up the relish tray and walked into the dining room. She dawdled at the table, precisely arranging the place settings of silverware.
"The table looks nice," her mother remarked as she emerged from the kitchen. "I can always tell when you set the table, Tory."
"Thank you. It's only fair that you should derive some pleasure out of all that expensive education you paid for for me."
"Tory, I've never heard you sound so bitter." Lena Beaumont frowned at her in surprise.
"I'm sorry, mom." Victoria ran her fingers through the edges of her hair. "Pay no attention to me. Your guest has just made me touchy about certain things."
"Dirk?" Her mother sounded skeptical.
Had her mother defected to the enemy, too? Victoria wasn't in the mood to argue her case, so she simply shook her head and forced a smile to her mouth.
"I'm probably imagining everything." She shrugged. "Forget I said anything."
Her mother hesitated, then accepted the explanation. "Would you mind helping Josie in the kitchen for a few more minutes? I have to go wash this fish stuff off my hands and change."
"I don't mind," Victoria agreed even though it meant going back in the kitchen where Dirk was, and where she didn't want to be.
As her mother left Victoria walked to the kitchen door and collided with Dirk who was just coming out. His reaction was instantaneous, grabbing her shoulders when she bumped into him. The steadying grip of his hands only added to her confusion. When she lifted her gaze, Victoria saw Penny's cap still on top of his head and was immediately filled with a cold rage.
"Would the king let me by?" Her voice was chilling, but her gray eyes were blazing.
His gaze narrowed on her for a long second.
"Being a king doesn't suit me. You wear the crown since you enjoy looking 'down' on people," As he released her he took the hat from his head and put it on hers, then walked around her and out of the room.
Victoria stared after him, her throat tight with some unknown emotion. Turning, she pushed open the kitchen door and walked through. The cap slipped and she whisked it off, tossing it to Penny.
"Take care of that," Victoria ordered. "And you'd better get cleaned up. Don't think you are going to sit at the dinner table smelling and looking like that, because you aren't."
Penny bristled at the barrage of tactless orders. "You don't have any right to tell me what to do, Victoria Beaumont! I'm not a child so don't try to order me around."
"Stop being so sensitive and go wash," she retorted in frowning irritation.
"I'll go when I'm ready," Penny answered defiantly. "You don't give the orders around here."
"No, I do," Josie interceded between the quarreling pair. "This is my kitchen and I am telling you to go. Vite"!
Penny didn't dispute Josie's authority, although she showed her displeasure by storming out of the room. Victoria's anger was revealed in the rigidity of her carriage.
"She needs a good shaking!" she declared and walked stiffly to the stove. She lifted lids on the pots without noticing the contents and let them clatter back into place. "Did you notice the way he put his arm around her? It was disgusting!"
"Je…" Josie started to reply in French, then appeared to realize that Victoria's mood was not conducive to translation. "I think you might be wishing his arm had been around you."
"That's preposterous!" she denied absolutely.
"You should open your eyes, Victoria, before he decides to open them for you," the housekeeper warned.
"My eyes are open," Victoria assured her.
"Then why pretend that you weren't a little jealous of your sister?" Josie countered with a tiny smile edging the corners of her mouth.
"There isn't any point in discussing this with you. You don't understand," she declared in exasperation.
When she sat down to the table a quarter of an hour later, Victoria didn't have any appetite for the food she had helped prepare. She excused herself as soon as she decently could and went up to her room.
AFTER A NIGHT'S SLEEP and a slim breakfast, Victoria discovered that she felt just as unsettled and restless as she had the previous night. The obvious solution was to burn up the nervous energy that was making her on ledge. She changed out of the slacks and blouse she had put on when she'd gotten up, and into a pair of brief white shorts and a blue knit top.
Downstairs, she exited the house through the sliding door to the breezeway and walked directly to the garage. Her bicycle was parked in front of the overhead door. Victoria flipped the switch that would raise it. There was a faint whir as the door lifted. When it was up Victoria walked to her bike.
"Good morning. I thought I heard the garage door opening and wondered if I was imagining things," Dirk said as he wandered into view. "Going somewhere?"
"I'm taking my bike out. I need some exercise," she explained shortly and took hold of the handlebars to wheel it outside.
"I'm beginning to feel a little sedentary, too. You wouldn't have another bike I could use? I'll ride with you."
"Only Penny's, and it has a flat tire," Victoria was glad to say. "Sorry."
"What's this?" Dirk spied something in the garage and went to investigate it. "It's a bicycle built for two. I've never ridden one of these things," he declared in a faintly bemused voice.
"It's mom and dad's. I don't think they've ridden it since last summer. It might be broken," Victoria hoped, then added maliciously. "Besides, where did you learn how to ride a bike? I thought you were poor as a child."
"But I had an old motorcycle when I was seventeen, because it gave me a cheap form of transportation." The glitter in his dark eyes laughed at her attempt to put him down. "It was a few years later before I tested my cycling skills on a bike. It's mostly a matter of balance and leg power." He pushed the kickstand back and g
uided the two-seater bike out of the garage. All the tires were inflated and nothing seemed to be wrong with the chains. "What do you say?" Dirk glanced at her. "Are you game for a ride on this?"
There was a silent challenge in his question, but it was the eagerness in his look that Victoria responded to. He had never ridden a bicycle built for two and he wanted to find out what it was like.
"All right," she agreed, "as long as you promise not to start singing 'Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer true.'"
"You have my word," he chuckled, "even if you are taking some of the fun out of it. How about if I hum it?"
In spite of herself Victoria found she was laughing right along with him. "I don't care," she declared in a laughing breath and wheeled her bicycle back into the garage.
"Do you want the front seat or the rear?" Dirk asked.
"You take the front," she said and turned so he wouldn't see the impish light in, her gray eyes.
At first the bike was unwieldy until they adjusted to the weight of a second person and balanced themselves accordingly. They were both laughing as they wobbled the first few feet, threatening to crash any second, but the coordination eventually came.
"No backseat driving is allowed," Dirk reminded her when they were safely under way.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Victoria assured him, that gleam still in her eyes.
She had already discovered that it wasn't wise to concentrate too much on the scenery they were riding past. When she did, she tended to try to turn the fake pair of handlebars, which invariably threw them off balance. It was better to spend most of her time looking straight ahead, which meant looking at the back of Dirk's head and the breadth of his shoulders. Victoria didn't really mind that. In fact, it was interesting to watch the play of the muscles in his shoulders and back beneath the thin cotton material of his shirt, and to notice the changing shades of his black hair in different light—the blue black of the raven in the sunshine and coal black in the shadows of the trees.
They hadn't gone far when the road began to make a gradual rise. It was a gentle slope, not at all steep. Carefully Victoria lifted her feet off the pedals and rested them on the crossbar, letting Dirk do all the work to get them up the small hill. Before they reached the top he was standing in the pedals.
