Eye of the Tiger Lily

by Ann Yost

  And there was something between them. A kind of quiet understanding. The innkeeper seemed to enjoy his company. She had stopped by several times yesterday while he’d moved into the studio. He wondered what she’d say if she knew those visits were the brightest spots in his day.

  Daniel gazed around the studio. Yeah. This place felt more like home than anywhere he’d been in a long, long time.

  A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

  Sharon stood outside holding a tureen of hot soup between two bright blue oven mitts. She had a fragrant loaf of fresh bread under one arm and a bunch of fall wildflowers clasped between her teeth.

  “Just a little housewarming,” she said, after he relieved her of her burdens.

  He gave her his rare, quiet smile.

  “You didn’t have to do this.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. As always, she looked sophisticated and elegant. Her thick auburn hair had been pulled into a severe twist that emphasized her large hazel eyes. She wore a tailored suit the color of wild honey.

  “Well, I figured you hadn’t had time to go to the market.” She was silent a moment as if carefully considering her next remark.

  “Mr. Grey Wolf, I realize the kitchen accommodations here are skimpy.” She indicated his small refrigerator and hot plate. “You are more than welcome to eat in the dining room. Or, if you’d prefer, you could eat with me. I usually have my meals sent to my suite.” Her pale cheeks turned faintly pink.

  Daniel was completely charmed. And he saw past her kind offer of hospitality to the real motivation. She was lonely, too. Just as he was. The exquisite, elegant, almost-engaged innkeeper needed a friend.

  And if there was a place where Daniel excelled it was friendship.

  “I’ll accept your offer if we can move to a first-name basis.”

  He wasn’t prepared for her blinding smile or the effect it had on his heart. He felt a sudden, burning desire to study the galaxy of freckles sprinkled across her nose at close range. He longed to touch her full lips with his fingertips. He banished the improper thoughts and grinned at her.

  “What?” Sharon sounded self-conscious.

  “How did those flowers taste?”

  She laughed. “Not bad. Luckily we don’t use pesticides in the garden here.”

  “Good thing.” He drank in the scent of her expensive perfume. It seemed to close around him like a comforting cocoon.

  “Do you have time to share the soup?” He heard himself with surprise.

  She hesitated.

  “Please don’t feel you have to stay,” he hastened to add.

  “It’s not that. I just don’t want to take up your time. I know you took the studio to get some privacy.”

  She didn’t understand. Daniel intended to make sure she never understood.

  “There’s always time to eat,” he said, easily.

  While he ladled the soup into native-made earthenware bowls Sharon moved about the small room inspecting his sparse decorating efforts. She commented on the turquoise pottery and the hand-loomed rug. He was aware of her interest in the unframed pen-and-ink drawings he’d left on a countertop.

  “Forgive my nosiness,” she finally said, “but these are wonderful. Did you do them yourself, Daniel?”

  The compliment was nice but the real pleasure he got was from hearing his name on her tongue.

  “Yes.”

  She picked up one drawing and studied it for a long time.

  “This is Molly Whitecloud.”

  Daniel knew which sketch she’d found. It was one of Molly seated in the garden wearing a long gingham dress. Her raven-colored hair had been cut short emphasizing the unusual indigo eyes and high cheekbones.

  “She’s breathtaking,” Sharon said. “But she looks so sad.”

  She had been sad. She’d just lost her baby. And the man she loved. The man Sharon was about to marry. Daniel said nothing.

  “The two of you must be very close.”

  Naturally Sharon knew nothing of his long-ago marriage. She was a relative newcomer to Eden.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t imagine she lets too many people see this vulnerability.”

  The woman had insight. Molly hadn’t let him sketch her. He’d done it from memory. Her grief had been like a living thing and very private. Normally he’d have shared none of it but he found he wanted to tell the innkeeper the truth. At least some of it.

  “Molly and I were married briefly many years ago.”

  The look on Sharon’s face perplexed him. She seemed almost dismayed.

  “Oh.”

  Daniel felt compelled to reveal more.

  “It was necessary for legal purposes,” he said, vaguely, “not intended as a real marriage.”

  She looks at the sketch again.

  “But you loved her.”

  Daniel set the bowls of soup on the table.

  “I did love her.”

  He noted a slight droop in Sharon’s shoulders and realized the attraction was mutual. It would be safer for both of them if she did not completely understand his relationship with Molly.

  “You’ve never remarried,” Sharon said. “Didn’t you want children?” Almost immediately color burned her pale cheeks and her eyes dilated. “Oh, I’m sorry! That was too personal.”

  He smiled and pulled out a chair for her at his small table.

  “It’s a natural question. I’ve never really thought about children,” he said, deliberately giving her a false impression, “and, of course, now it’s too late.”

  “Surely not.”

  Sharon’s hazel eyes held his. No, they did more. They drew him in, embraced him. She made him at home.

  “I’m almost fifty, Sharon.”

  “You’d make a good father,” she said.

  Because he had a strong sense of responsibility, a natural protectiveness. He refused to feel disappointment that she saw him the same way others always had.

  “I’ve always wanted to be a mother,” she admitted.

  Daniel caught the wistfulness in her voice. He knew about maternal longing. He’d seen it on a daily basis with Molly. Cam Outlaw had a small daughter. Had he and Sharon come together over a shared interest in parenting? No. He rejected the idea immediately. Cam and Sharon were young, single, and attractive. The attraction between them had been natural.

  “I don’t believe it’s in the cards.”

  Her forthrightness startled him into a question. “Why?”

  She shrugged.

  ”I really don’t know why I’m telling you all this, you’ll think me very indiscreet.” He wanted to tell her to stop, that he didn’t want to hear about her dreams and disappointments. Except she obviously needed to talk and he wanted to hear whatever she had to say.

  “Cam Outlaw and I have been seeing each other. He’s indicated that one child is enough for him. And, apparently, there’s a fertility issue.” She blushed again.

  Of course. Outlaw’s fertility issue explained why he and his late wife had used the sperm-bank clinic. Daniel wished he didn’t know about Molly’s insemination. He wished he didn’t know that Molly might be carrying Cameron Outlaw’s child. The project, which had always seemed like a mistake, now loomed as a betrayal of the lovely woman across the table.

  Daniel reminded himself that, in this matter, neither Molly nor Sharon was his business. For a moment he pitied Cameron Outlaw.

  ****

  Cam fought to hold onto his temper. It had taken him half an hour of interviewing maids to find out about Dwight Winston’s Suite of Sin. He’d bet everything he owned that Molly Whitecloud had found her way there in half the time.

  The glass elevator climbed slowly to the ninth floor. Cam tried to pass the time by planning how he would punish the little witch but the rain-dark sky on the other side of the glass wall and the ominous rumbling of thunder exacerbated his anxiety. He’d told her to stay put. If either Winston or Big Eddie suspected why she was at the casino, she’d b
e in real danger.

  Worry morphed into anger.

  She’d always been interested in the rez first and foremost but in the years since they’d been together, she’d become a damn saint. Apparently she was willing to sacrifice anything for the good of the rez.

  Damn the woman!

  He pounded his fist against the suite’s door. It opened almost immediately and Cam found himself staring at Dwight Winston’s rubbery lips and gummy smile.

  “I wondered when you’d show up.”

  Cam started to ask what the hell he was talking about until he remembered, belatedly, that he had “hired” Molly Whitecloud as his escort. He bared his teeth in a possessive snarl as his eyes raked the room.

  “Yes. I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

  Winston’s chuckle managed to be both lascivious and oily.

  “The management takes no responsibility for personal belongings left unattended.”

  Cam eyed the lounge “loveseats” set at odd angles around the large room. Several of them were occupied by couples in various stages of undress. Some were partially obscured by potted palm trees but there was an air of hedonism, possibly the scent of whisky and gin or the pounding thrum of the base in the music that filled the room. Several closed doors indicated there might be other more private spaces for a couple to engage in a tete-a-tete.

  The focal point of the room was a huge hot-tub from which steam rose. Cam spotted one couple standing waist-deep in the water, the woman’s long legs wrapped around the thick waist of a man whose lobster-red face and glazed eyes implied an intimate joining beneath the surface.

  Cam’s fists clenched and only relaxed when he realized the woman’s black hair ended just below her ears. His eyes skimmed the other couples until he found what he was looking for. Every muscle in his body tensed as he watched her leaning, provocatively against the side of the pool while, above her, a bald middle-aged man with a kangaroo’s pouch, sat on the side, his feet dangling in the water.

  Molly threw back her head, her long, black hair sleek and wet against her bare back and laughed at something the man said and he grinned, obviously pleased with himself. She hauled herself up onto the deck and looked up at Cam as if she’d sensed his presence.

  He gaped at her, his first fear, that she was wearing nothing at all, was unfounded. She was wearing something, all right. A Spandex body suit. With a tail. His lips thinned.

  Tiger Lily had turned into a mermaid.

  He closed the space between them.

  “Cam,” she said.

  “Hold that thought,” her companion said, with a heavy grin, “we were about to adjourn this meeting to somewhere a little more private.”

  Cam ignored him as his eyes quartered Molly’s face and dropped to the nearly transparent fabric of her clothing.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  ”Well,” she said, a rueful smile on her lips, “I can’t really stand up. No legs.”

  He wondered if she had any idea of what she was doing to him. The combination of irritation that she hadn’t followed instructions, fear for her safety and frustration that he still wanted the faithless woman from his childhood, pushed him over some indefinable edge. He let out a harsh growl as he bent down and scooped her into his arms. Her body was sleek and compact. And wet. The moisture had no discernible impact on his now fully aroused body.

  Molly’s companion protested. “There’re lotsa fish in the sea. I caught this one.”

  “Forget it, pal,” Cam shot back. “This one’s too small to keep. Anyway, she’s mine.”

  Molly’s arms came around his neck and she grinned at him. He wished, for a moment, they were just a man and a woman embarking on an affair. As they reached the door it was opened by Dwight Winston. He leered at Molly.

  She tightened her hold on Cam’s neck but managed a smile.

  “Got caught by the old ball and chain,” she said.

  Winston’s lip curled.

  “Just until tomorrow. Then it’s my turn.”

  Cam felt the shudder that ran through her.

  “Hang on,” he said, for Winston’s benefit, “I’ll get you warmed up soon enough.”

  A long minute later they were in the elevator.

  “You can let me down now.”

  “And you’ll what? Strip off your tail?”

  She swallowed convulsively and didn’t answer.

  The elevator ride seemed to take forever, as did the walk down the corridor to the honeymoon suite. Just before he reached the door he stumbled.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m too heavy for you.”

  He didn’t argue. Better to let her think he was struggling to carry a hundred pounds than to admit she’d made him so hard he could barely walk.

  “My room key’s in my right pants pocket.”

  She eyed him, doubtfully, but retrieved the plastic key card and inserted it into the lock.

  He strode through the suite to the bedroom and dumped her, unceremoniously, on the heart-shaped bed. Then he turned to the door.

  “When you’re dressed, we’ll talk.”

  “Uh, Cam?”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t have any clothes here.”

  Goddmmitall to hell.

  “I’ll get them from your room.”

  “Thanks.”

  He’d reached the door and had his hand on the knob.

  “There’s one more thing.”

  He gritted his teeth. “What?”

  “The zipper to this get-up is in the back. I can’t reach it.”

  He turned to stare at her.

  “You want me to take off your clothes?”

  One dark eyebrow lifted in apology.

  “I need your help.”

  “For Chrissakes, Molly! For two cents I’d just leave you here and go back to Eden.” And for less than that I’d strip off that bodysuit and prove to you just how badly I want you. “You don’t listen to instructions, you can’t take care of yourself, you’re a damn millstone around my neck!”

  He crossed the room and started to work on her zipper, waiting to hear her outrage and accusations but she hadn’t spoken by the time his fingers touched the soft flesh of her back. He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt his own body tighten like a coiled spring.

  Molly.

  Unthinkingly he began to peel the wet latex off her slim, shapely body. She hadn’t changed in all these years except that the baby fat had disappeared and her curves were more womanly. He wanted her so badly he couldn’t speak.

  For a minute she leaned against him and he knew she wanted him, too. Cam lowered his head, their lips separated by less than an inch. Suddenly, he remembered who he was about to kiss and he pulled away from her. She sat very still for a moment. When he returned from the bathroom with a towel, she’d pulled herself together.

  “It’s exactly like we thought,” she said, her voice only slightly breathy. “Dwight Winston holds what amounts to an orgy every afternoon. The girls aren’t forced to attend and they aren’t all Indians, but there’s plenty of free food and they get generous tips. They aren’t forced to sleep with these guys, either, but again, they make some money.”

  He said nothing, just turned back toward the door but he couldn’t make himself leave.

  “You’re angry, aren’t you?” She sounded apologetic. “I didn’t wait for you because I knew I could investigate this sex part better on my own. I’m sorry if you were worried. But it’s all good. I’m going to call Lena Tallchief. She’s a Penobscot attorney in Augusta and she’ll know whether we can take any legal action against Winston and the resort.” She paused. “Did you get what you needed to break into the safe?”

  He stared at the indigo eyes and wanted to tell her how worried he’d been when he couldn’t find her, how jealous he’d been when he’d seen her with the guy in the pool, how much he’d missed her in the past thirteen years. He couldn’t tell her any of that. He was nearly engaged and, besides, she was p
art of the past.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I got it.”

  ****

  Molly leaned against the tiled wall. The shower spray did nothing to cool her down. She’d thought he was going to kiss her the way he had last night. It would have been a mistake on so many levels. It had been right for him to pull back. But the sense of loss was almost as devastating as it had been the first time.

  She’d wanted that kiss.

  She supposed she was lucky Cam was both smarter and more disciplined than she. He’d wanted the contact, too. And it wasn’t like last night when circumstances had thrown them into an unwanted intimacy. She could tell the difference. This time, he’d wanted her.

  It was mildly gratifying to know the chemistry between them had survived the years but they couldn’t afford to indulge it. There were too many others to consider, too many lives that could be destroyed. She reminded herself that she didn’t deserve even an interlude with Cam, not now.

  But it had felt so sweet to be in his arms even with the tail. He’d smelled the same as she remembered, soap-fresh, male, Cam.

  Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. If only Daniel hadn’t sent him to help with the investigation. She could’ve handled the exploitation of the girls but Molly was honest enough with herself to know she’d never have figured out how to get into Big Eddie’s safe.

  She’d needed somebody. She just wished it had been somebody else.

  When her skin turned pruny she finally got out of the shower and stepped into the bedroom. He wasn’t there, naturally, but he’d brought all her luggage.

  She moved slowly, taking her time to put her hair into a braid and pin it up onto her head before slipping into a floor-length silver dress that fit like a second skin.

  First the sexy cocktail dress, then the mermaid suit and now this. It was quite a change from her usual overalls, denim skirts and work shirts. She turned sideways in the mirror. The sophisticated creature that looked back at her looked confident and secure. She wouldn’t have raided a sperm bank. She’d have moved on with her life.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t really exist.

  Molly slipped on the three-inch spiked heels and applied some lipstick. She hoped the evening would go smoothly, that Cam would be able to open the safe without incident, that they’d grab the laptop and get out of the casino without having to get near the butterscotch sofa.