'Oh, get dressed and get out of here!' she yelled at him, and Sean took the long stride needed to cover the space between them, his hand clamping down over her mouth again.
'Ssh,' he murmured. 'You don't want the manager coming up here because other guests have rung him to complain, do you?'
'Leggo!' she mumbled into his hand. She couldn't even bite him because he was being too clever: she couldn't get her teeth apart while his fingers gripped her cheekbones.
'What?'
'Let go!' she managed at last, and Sean took his hand away, too suddenly for her to have a chance to bite it.
She snapped at him instead. 'And get dressed!' Looking around desperately, she saw the open door of her bathroom and, hanging on it, a white towelling robe. She gestured. 'Put that on!'
Sean gave her a wry look, but obeyed without haste, strolling over to the door and taking down the robe, sliding his arms into it, tying the belt casually around his slim, firm waist before he turned back suddenly, catching her staring.
His eyes mocked her. 'Reminding yourself what you're missing, darling?'
Nadine had never been so angry. Well, not since the last time they'd had a monumental row, anyway. She could feel the blood rushing round her body, singing in her ears, making her pulses jump and leap.
'I'm going to complain to the manager about all this!' she promised hoarsely, snatching up the telephone from her bedside table.
'Of course, that's up to you,' drawled Sean, smiling that silky smile. 'But I wouldn't in your shoes.'
'Don't threaten me!'
'It's not a threat,' he said, opening his blue eyes and looking hurt. 'I was just trying to point out that you hadn't really thought this thing through.'
She waited, eyes needle-sharp, knowing that he was about to detonate some bomb right underneath her. She knew that expression on Sean's face and it always meant trouble for someone. Usually her.
'After all,' he said softly, 'If you tell the manager that we're divorced, and complain about having me in your bed last night, there is no chance... no chance whatever, I'd say... that you're going to keep that little item out of the gossip columns.'
She registered that, biting her lip. 'She wouldn't tell the Press!'
'She?' He looked surprised. 'The manager is a woman? I've never before stayed in a hotel which had a woman manager.'
'I think she and her husband own it. He's Luc Haines, the artist—I gave you one of his pictures once, remember? A water-colour of a fish market.'
'That one? I still have it,' said Sean. 'So he lives on this island and owns the hotel? What a coincidence.'
'It's nothing of the sort. That's why I'm here. He holds art courses based on this hotel; you spend half the day painting and the other half on the beach. I've always enjoyed painting water-colours, so I decided to take the course and have a holiday at the same time. Didn't Larry tell you that?'
'He said you seemed upset and tired and he thought you needed a holiday,' Sean admitted, and they were both silent for a long moment, looking at each other. Nadine searched his face and saw the deep lines she had seen before, the grey weariness under his usual tan. Sean needed a holiday, too; he looked as if he needed to sleep for a week. She wondered what he saw in her face—the same exhausted look she saw in his? She wouldn't be surprised. She had been under a strain ever since the divorce, emotionally, mentally, physically. She felt as if she had been running a very long race and she wanted to stop and lie down.
Quietly, Sean said, 'Anyway, last night when I checked in I only saw a male reception clerk, and he obviously didn't have an idea who I was! Or who you were, come to that. He wasn't just being discreet. He really didn't know who we were! You know how you can always tell when people have recognised you; there's that look in their eyes.'
'Yes,' she had to concede. You could always tell, even when they tried to hide it. There was that telltale flicker, the look of surprise, of recognition.
Sean shrugged. 'But if you make waves... complain... tell them we're divorced, but I spent the night with you...'
Her eyes flashed. 'Don't keep putting it like that! You may have spent the night in my suite, but not with me!'
'In your bed, then,' he mocked, and she gritted her teeth and glared at him.
'I won't tell them that!'
'Where will you say I slept, then?'
She was furiously silent, and he grinned at her wickedly. 'Whichever way you put it, if you make a fuss you're going to arouse a lot of curiosity. It's too good a story; they're going to talk about it, among themselves, and there must be a local newspaper. Someone on the staff is bound to sell the story to a reporter.'
Nadine frowned, pushing her heavy chestnut hair back from her flushed face. 'I don't believe it! It would be very bad publicity for the hotel, after all, letting you walk into my room in the middle of the night without checking with me first!'
'Maybe the management wouldn't sell the story, but the hotel staff would chatter about it among themselves and tell their friends, and sooner or later it would get to the ears of a reporter, and our names would ring a bell.'
'Especially yours!' she muttered, scowling.
'I have had a lot of Press coverage lately,' he drily agreed. 'The local reporter would sell the story to the American Press and the next thing you know we'll be up to our necks in reporters. Come on! Think about it! If you read that story in a gossip column, wouldn't you laugh like mad? Divorced wife wakes up to find her ex-husband in bed with her in hotel room?' Sean started to laugh.
Nadine didn't. She eyed him coldly. 'I don't think it's remotely funny!'
'Well, your sense of humour was always defective,' he murmured. 'But believe me, my darling, if you open this particular Pandora's box you're going to find yourself wishing you hadn't.'
He had convinced her, but that just made her angrier and she burst out, 'Just get dressed and get out of my suite! If they haven't got another room, hire a boat again and book into another hotel! I'm sure you'll come up with something.'
'Oh, stop shouting!' Sean snapped back at her, his brows heavy over his brooding blue eyes. 'I only had a few hours' sleep and I'm in no mood for all this aggro!' He walked towards the bathroom. 'I'm going to have a shower!'
'I want one!' she protested, but he was already inside the bathroom and closing the door.
'You'll have to wait, then!'
'You selfish...' she began, then stopped in frustration as she heard the shower start to run. He couldn't hear her so there was no point in telling him what she thought of him yet. She would save it up for later.
She went out on to her balcony and leaned on the balustrade, her mind working busily. Three guesses why Sean had followed her here! You didn't need to be a genius to work it out! As soon as Larry tracked him down and told him she was in the West Indies they had plotted together, worked out that while she was here, and, alone, she would be an easy target; and Sean had set off to join her.
No doubt he thought he had made a brilliant beginning. She brooded resentfully on that thought.
That snake had got back into her bed last night, and she still didn't know exactly what had happened.
Something had. That had been a very vivid dream and she had woken up to find it actually happening. How much else of that dream had actually happened?
She trembled, closing her eyes briefly. No! She didn't want to know that.
She thought about something less disturbing. Money. The reason for Sean's arrival here. Larry was determined to get her to hand back her divorce settlement or lend it to the company; and Sean, having obviously failed to raise money during his trip to Los Angeles to hunt for backing, had finally agreed to ask her for it.
She had to admit, it was a big point in his favour that Sean hadn't wanted to ask her, had tried every other avenue first. If she was to believe Larry, that was!
But he was here, now, wasn't he? she cynically thought. If he was so scrupulous and reluctant to ask her for the money, how come, now that he actually was here
, he was ruthlessly prepared to use every weapon he could get his hands on?
It didn't add up, did it? Never mind what Larry said, she told herself. Look at what had actually happened. Last night, Sean had crept into her bed, made love to her, then blackmailed her to stop her complaining to the hotel management...
Nadine watched some children in the hotel pool, their laughter and the splash of their dives into the blue water quite clear and sharp in the morning stillness. The blue sea glittered with sunlight. Her mind glittered like broken glass, bright and sharp and dangerous.
She was looking ahead, guessing what was going to happen next. Sean was not going to obey her meekly, leave the island at once, give up his attempt to get his money back. This was only the start of his campaign.
But one thing she was determined about. He was not sharing this room!
She heard the bathroom door open and gave a quick look round to check that he wasn't naked before she walked across the bedroom to take her own shower.
Without looking at him she curtly said, 'When I come out I want to find you gone!'
She didn't wait for a reply, just collected a few clothes, went into the bathroom and bolted the door.
He had left the room untidy, as usual. She crossly picked up the damp bath-sheet he had flung over the side of the bath, shook it and hung it on the hot hotel rail to dry, smoothed out the bath-mat, put the cap back on the toothpaste he had used. My toothpaste! she thought, and looked at her toothbrush, but there was now a second brush in the mug beside her own. At least he had used his own toothbrush.
It was like a trip back to the past. How often had she gone into a steamy bathroom and gone around picking up after him, tidying, putting things away? Sean's mother must have spoilt him when he was a child, waited on him hand and foot, so that he now seemed to believe that a magic fairy followed him around and did everything for him. When they were married, Nadine had been cast as that magic fairy, but she wasn't playing that role again.
Who had been doing it since she left? she wondered as she stepped under the shower. Fenella? Nadine couldn't believe that. Fenella Nash did not have a domesticated look.
The cool water refreshed her. She felt much better as she began to towel herself afterwards. She dressed quickly before going back into the bedroom in a peach cotton top and matching shorts, her chestnut hair looped back from her face in two coils tied with black ribbon.
Sean hadn't left, of course. She pretended to be surprised about that, though, halting and staring at him.
'I thought I told you to go.'
'I've rung and ordered breakfast,' he told her, setting out the table and chairs on the balcony in preparation for the meal.
She seethed. 'Oh, have you? Well, you aren't staying to eat it!'
'Yes, I am, I'm starving,' he said coolly. 'I told them to send scrambled eggs and mushrooms for me, with toast, and I ordered croissants, rolls, honey and fruit for you, and fruit juice and coffee for both of us.' He gave her a wicked grin. 'See how well I remember what you like for breakfast?'
'You can eat in the dining-room! You aren't eating with me. And take your toothbrush with you, and your case.'
'I'll find myself a room later today,' he told her just as the room service waiter arrived pushing a table laid with breakfast. Calmly, Sean told him to unload the food on to the balcony table, tipped him when the man had finished, and sat down to take the silver cover off his plate of eggs and mushrooms.
'Mmm...delicious!' He took a piece of golden toast and began to eat, and, since Nadine was suddenly forced to realise how hungry she was herself, she sat down opposite him, a little sulkily, poured herself some pineapple juice and took some fruit from the bowl.
'I shall be going to my first class in half an hour,' she told Sean. 'By the time I get back at lunch time I shall expect you to be out of here.'
'Pour me some coffee, would you, darling?' was his only answer. 'These are the best scrambled eggs I've eaten in years.'
'Sean, I'm serious!' she furiously snapped and he lifted his dark head to look at her, those blue eyes hard and bright.
'I'm not leaving until we've talked.'
She nodded slowly, her face coldly cynical. 'Oh, I know why you're here! Larry told me all about your financial difficulties...'
Sean frowned blackly. 'Oh, did he? Damn him, he had no right... Did he ask you to lend us money?'
'Obliquely, yes. And I know that's why you're here. Well, I'm ready to discuss some sort of loan but not here, not now. I'm on holiday and...'
'It isn't,' Sean interrupted curtly and Nadine stopped talking, staring at him incredulously.
'What?'
'I'm not here to ask you for money!'
'But Larry said..
'Yes, Larry wants you to lend the company money, but I don't. Are you going to pour me that coffee or not?' He forked some soft creamy egg into his mouth while she watched him in disbelief.
'You don't?' she slowly repeated.
He sighed and picked up the coffee-pot, poured them both a cup of the fragrant, dark liquid.
'You don't want me to give you back the divorce settlement money?' Nadine had to clarify the position; she simply couldn't believe what he was saying.
Sean nodded and ate some more egg and mushroom, bit into crisp toast, then took a sip of coffee.
'Sean!' she angrily said. 'I asked you..
'I heard,' he said, looking up then, his face cool. 'I just told you. I do not want your money. OK?'
She stared into those dangerous blue eyes. 'Then why are you here?'
He smiled crookedly. 'Something you said to Larry made me come.'
She was thrown into a panic, hunting through her memory and getting very confused. 'What? What did I say to Larry?'
'You said that you weren't involved with Jamie Colbert before the divorce, that we split up because of Fenella.'
She stiffened. 'Well, it's true, isn't it?'
'No, it isn't,' Sean said. 'I never so much as looked at Fenella while I was married to you. We were in trouble before I even met Fenella, and the cause of our rows was Colbert. So that's why I'm here—to ask you if you were lying to Larry, or if I was wrong all those years, and you weren't having an affair with Jamie Colbert while we were married.'
CHAPTER FOUR
'I 'M NOT getting into another of those endless fights,' Nadine said huskily. 'I still have nightmares about them. You wouldn't believe me then, and I don't expect you to believe me now. It doesn't matter anyway, we're not married anymore, we're divorced—so what's the point of talking about it? Look, I'm going to my art class. Don't be here when I get back, Sean, or I'll pack and leave myself.'
She got up and collected the large blue beach- bag in which she was going to carry all her art things around. Sean still sat on the balcony, drinking his coffee and watching her, his brooding blue eyes narrowed. It wasn't easy to ignore his stare, but she managed it out of sheer practice. Nadine was used to men staring at her, their eyes exploring her from head to foot, from her smooth-skinned face with its wide, passionate mouth, and the coils of rich chestnut hair framing it, down over her high, round breasts and slim waist to her rounded, feminine hips and long, slim, tapering legs. She had had to learn not to blush or get angry; her profession demanded it. She still didn't like it. And when it was Sean doing the watching it was ten times harder for her to stay cool.
She left without saying a word and hurried off to meet the other art students in the lobby of the hotel. Luc then led them through the gardens to his studio, which adjoined the hotel on the left side.
Luc's studio was a spacious room with full-length windows flooding it with light. There were wonderful views on three sides: the gardens, the beach, the blue Caribbean. The fourth wall was stacked with canvases leaning against each other; above them other paintings hung, crammed close together, all Luc's work. Nadine saw water-colours, oils, sketches in charcoal, crayon, pencil: most of them landscapes, a few portraits.
The students were all allotted an
easel; Luc told them they were going to do some preparatory sketches of whichever view they were facing, so that he could assess the standard of their work. Some were total beginners, others had been painting for years. His approach to each would necessarily be quite different.
Nadine was so distracted this morning, half her mind still involved in argument with Sean, that she had a problem trying to decide what to draw, and she knew she wasn't doing anything inspired, blocking in the beach, palm trees, bougainvillaea, the brilliant blue sea and sky. It all looked over- coloured suddenly: a picture for a chocolate-box lid. She scowled at it; how did you sketch a view that was all colour? She heard Luc's voice talking to a dark girl in a scarlet sundress who was standing at the next easel.
'Had you thought of putting in a human figure there to give it a focus? You know, when people look at a picture they automatically look first at any human beings in it. It's instinctive...' His voice dropped to a murmur, and Nadine couldn't hear the rest of the sentence.
She looked at her own sketch. There were no human beings in her picture, either. She looked up at the actual view and saw children running under the palm trees, throwing a ball to each other. She began to put them into the picture: nothing elaborate, just blurs in the shadow of the palms.
Luc came up behind her a few moments later; she waited rather nervously for his comment.
'Not bad,' he said, to her surprise. 'You have an eye for perspective. But a little more boldness wouldn't hurt. Be more assertive with form; make it a positive statement, not a nervous little wiggle.' He had a piece of charcoal in his hand and bent forward. 'Like this...' He made a slashing stroke and a palm tree appeared. 'And here, maybe...' Another stroke and there was a man walking on the beach. 'Do you see what I mean?'
'Yes,' she said, envying him that sureness and speed. She was always hesitant to put a line on the paper.
'Take risks, Nadine,' he said, as if he had read her thoughts. 'Start again, and this time don't be scared, be bolder.' He smiled at her encouragingly, then went on to the next student.
Nadine obediently began again, concentrating on her work so fiercely that she forgot Sean, forgot the others in the room, Luc talking to another student, the sound of the sea. All she thought about was what she was doing.
Charlotte Lamb Page 5
