MITCH lay back on his towel, his hands clasped behind his head, his eyes closed. Jessica could have sworn she saw a smile flicker over his perfect lips. And his arrogance, his sheer cockiness, made her feel like slapping him.
“Is that what I was implying?” he asked, his tone lazy.
“I don’t know.” He was playing with her, and obviously relishing his feeling of superiority…but what he didn’t know, couldn’t know, was that she knew far more about the situation than he could possibly imagine. He was unaware that she knew of the sordid triangle his involvement with Amanda had formed at Stokely Manor. “You tell me. Was Garth the child’s father?”
She was looking down at him as she spoke, and now she saw him open one eye and cock an indolent glance up at her. “No,” he said softly, so softly she might not have been able to be sure what he said had she not seen his lips form the negative answer. “Garth was not Megan’s natural father.”
Incredulous, Jessica swallowed hard in the face of Mitch’s brazen audacity. The man was utterly vile! She wanted nothing more than to get away from him, never see him again, yet some force within her was determined to see this thing out to the bitter end, to coerce him into admitting the truth…a truth that she had always, in a small and Pollyannalike corner of her mind, hoped would in the end turn out to be a lie. “I don’t suppose,” she said in a tone of grim cynicism, “that you’re about to tell me who was.”
“No,” he said. “I can’t do that.”
Jessica closed her eyes and turned from him, hiding her expression of pain. She started as she felt his hand grip her wrist, and as he pulled her toward him, the movement unexpected, she was caught off balance. To her dismay she toppled against him, falling over his chest, with her face just inches from his. But before she could jerk herself upright again, he looped one arm around her and hauled her right over him, then cupped her head with one strong hand, capturing her rigidly.
“And the reason I can’t—” his breath was flavored with the taste of the red wine “—is not that it’s a private affair, because it isn’t. It’s common knowledge…”
Her breasts were crushed against him, her legs tangled with his. Flesh to flesh. Skin to skin. Heart to heart. She could feel the strong rhythmic hammering in his chest mingling with the lighter, faster heartbeat in her own. And even as she tried to concentrate on what he was saying, tried to decipher every nuance in his tone, in an effort to separate the lies from the truth, and tried to ignore the blatant intimacy of their physical situation, she found herself becoming overwhelmed by the rich sexuality flowering so relentlessly between them. They might as well have been naked, she realized despairingly, for all the barrier their flimsy clothing provided. Every instinct screamed at her to move, but she knew only too well that the slightest attempt to slide from him would only exacerbate her situation.
Vaguely, she realized he was still speaking, and she wanted to know…needed to know…what he was going to say. Gritting her teeth, she ignored the sweet ache spreading like thick honey through her body, ignored the way he was massaging her skull with his long clever fingers, and forced herself to concentrate on his words.
“…common knowledge,” he was repeating, “that Megan is not Garth’s child. You see, my sweet, suspicious, always-ready-to-believe-the-worst Jessie, little Megan came into Garth’s life as a stranger. She was not his natural child, but neither,” he said quietly, “was she Amanda’s. Their little girl was adopted.”
Jessica stared down at him in disbelief, his words snapping her wantonly scattered thoughts to attention the way nothing else could have done.
How on earth could Amanda have passed off her baby as being adopted? And why? Why had she come up with such a thing? Was it because she’d been afraid her baby would look not like Garth, but Mitch, that she had invented the lie? But how could she have gotten away with it? The very idea was preposterous! Nobody could hide a pregnancy…at least, not in the latter stages. Could they? But perhaps Amanda had managed to do just that. Perhaps she had gone away somewhere, on a “long holiday”…perhaps—Jessica’s heartbeats skittered to a suddenly faster tempo and she found it hard to breatheperhaps even here.
“Why the faraway look, Jessica?” Mitch’s voice was silky. “What are you thinking?”
“Oh…” With a huge effort, Jessica gathered herself together. “I was actually thinking of something totally unconnected to what you were just saying. You told me once that…Garth was the one who found Starlight. Had he come here on holiday?”
“Yes, he and Amanda did, on their own.”
“Oh, before they adopted Megan, then?”
“Yes, it was. Garth could only stay for a few days, he had to get back to work, but Amanda stayed on. For several weeks, actually.”
Jessica felt her head spin. So…she had been right. And the cool way Mitch spoke about the whole thing just proved what a devious and uncaring person he was. But even as she told herself how she despised him, she realized he had started running his hands up and down her back, his fingertips catching on the tie of her bikini with each teasing stroke. Caught by surprise, she wriggled. irritably, forgetting her previous decision not to make even the smallest movement. It was a mistake of the worst kind. His gaze darkened and even as she drew in a sharp, hissing breath, she saw his eyes close, his features twist, as if suddenly he was in great pain, and his body became rigid.
Again, as she had earlier, she sensed a change in him; and she sensed he didn’t welcome the desire that was obviously coursing through him. He didn’t want it…
But neither did she want the honey-sweet sensation flooding her own body. Did he feel the way she did? she wondered dizzily. Wanting…but fighting against that want? Did he feel, too, as if his resistance was being drained away? He did; of that she was sure, as she saw how taut his features were, saw how he had pressed his head back against the towel as if he wanted to escape from her. And as she looked down at him, suddenly something contrary in her, something as alien to her as it was alarming, drove her to try to pierce that invisible armor he had constructed in an attempt to protect himself from his own emotions.
Jessica knew, in a logical corner of her mind, that she should be ashamed of what she was going to do, but she cast logic to the winds as she gave in to a dark and compelling urge to seduce this man who seemed bent on fighting the needs of his flesh.
Jessica dropped her cloudy gaze to his lips. They were slightly parted, and slightly moist. And more than slightly tantalizing. In fact, they were utterly irresistible.
With her hair falling in a sleek curtain around her cheeks, she lowered her head and in a crazily abandoned mood such as she’d never known before, she touched her mouth to his, the kiss sensual yet light as a falling petal. Still, he didn’t respond to her kiss—but neither did he pull back. Jessica’s blue eyes narrowed, watching for a reaction, her gaze fixed on his eyelids as she moved her lips over his, hesitantly at first but then boldly. He was, she sensed with a thrill of rising excitement, steeling himself, deliberately holding back. And there was a challenge in that that sent Jessica’s blood pulsing savagely through her veins.
Unexpectedly, Mitch grasped her shoulders and rolled her over in one swift, powerful movement. In a flash, he had reversed their positions. His eyes—slitted, icy, glittering—looked down at her, piercing her cloudy, desire-blurred gaze.
“This wasn’t meant to happen,” he said grimly, a muscle trembling in his jaw. “But…”
His words were lost in her mouth as he clamped his lips to hers, his kiss fierce and voluptuous, carrying on where she had left off. “This is what you want,” he muttered in a dark, thick voice, “is it, Jessica?”
Her only reply was a tiny guttural sound in her throat.
Eyes never leaving hers, he rested his lower body more heavily on her, and, supporting himself with only that weight, and with his left arm, he slid his right hand deliberately along the warm curve of her shoulder, on an unerring route to the swell of her breast.
Jessica felt as if her throat had closed up. Tight, painful, aching, it resisted as she tried to swallow. Her eyes closed as she could no longer bear to look up into his unfocused gaze, her heartbeats raced headlong to oblivion.
All she was capable of was raising her arms to twine them around his neck, to pull him closer, to close the gap between their mouths once more and seek his kiss as if she would die if he didn’t set his flesh again on hers.
The sun beat scorchingly down upon them, on the deserted white beach, the only living creature watching them a white bird gliding along the water’s edge.
The beat of its wide wings throbbed in the pulsing air as it flew over them, a hoarse cry coming from its long pointed beak as it reached the topmost branch of the palm tree nearby. But it was a sound that no one in the world heard…
Least of all, the two people making love in this perfect paradise.
“We’ll have a quick nap in the shade of these palms, and then I’ll get you back to Starlight long before your ferry comes in.”
That’s what Mitch had said, his voice drowsy—and showing no sign whatever of the preoccupation she’d sensed in him before he’d succumbed to her advances-when he’d pulled her close in the afterglow of their lovemaking.
And she had believed him. And why wouldn’t she? Besides, the idea of a quick nap had appealed; she’d felt exhausted, although in an intensely pleasurable and contented way. She’d had absolutely no regrets about what they had done. It had been wrong, of course, but it had been inevitable. Mitch may not have intended, initially, to have had sex with her, but she was sure that, before the afternoon was out, it would eventually have happened. The chemistry between them was too strong for it to have been otherwise.
Yet she must have been more tired than she’d realized; either that, or the wine had knocked her for six, for she fell into a deep sleep.
When she finally awoke and looked at her watch, she gave a cry of alarm. It was way after five o’clock!
Scrambling hastily to her feet, with a, “Mitch, it’s so late, we have to go!” she looked around…and realized, to her consternation, that he wasn’t there. His towel was gone, and so was he. And the beach was deserted.
“Mitch?” Her shrill voice echoed back at her from the trees, but the only other sound was the protesting caw of some huge white bird she’d disturbed in the palm tree above, which now took off with a loud flutter of wide wings.
Snatching up her towel, Jessica stumbled away along the path to the cabin, expecting to find him there. Perhaps he’d gone to lock up.
He wasn’t there. Not in the main room, not in the bedroom…and not even in the outside toilet. Its ancient door hung desolately open.
“Mitch?” Till now, Jessica had managed to keep her initial feeling of panic under control, but as she stared around the empty cabin, she felt it flare up wildly. Where was he? Surely nothing could have happened to him?
Whirling around, she ran back to the beach, her heart hammering. Dusk, she suddenly noticed, was beginning to fall; the sun was sinking fast below the horizon, its farewell rays glistening pink on the darkening waters. Heartbeats jerking around like puppets on a string, she clutched her trembling hands together and pressed them against her stomach, hunching over to relieve a feeling of nausea as she cast a desperate gaze around her.
And that was when she noticed something she hadn’t noticed before…
Noticed it with a feeling of disbelief, stunned disbelief, disbelief that turned quickly to horror, her legs wobbling and threatening to give way under her. Distractedly, she swatted away a cloud of tiny gnatlike things that had started to buzz around her, barely aware of their pinprick bites on her bare arms as she stared aghast at the scene before her.
On the sand where Mitch had pulled the boat that morning were rough, deep grooves where the hull of the small vessel had dragged. The grooves were still there, she could see the shadows, dimly, in the fast-fading light.
But the boat, the sturdy little boat that Ben had loaned Mitch, was no longer beached where he had left it.
It was gone.
In the white light from the moon, Jessica trudged from the cabin to the beach, trailing a heavy bed cover with her.
The sun had been down for some time now, and although she had sat against the trunk of a palm tree on the beach for a long time, the heat of the day had eventually died, and she had become chilled. Although common sense told her to go to bed and try to sleep, she felt drawn to stay on the beach, where she could at least see the water, and watch for the lights of any approaching boat. Not that she had any hopes of being rescued that night…
After she had recovered from the initial shock of discovering that the boat was gone, she had paced back and forth along the water’s edge for an hour, trying to figure out what could have happened to it…and to Mitch. She had come up with several possible scenarios—the worst of which was that while she slept strangers had murdered him, stolen the boat, and were only waiting till dark before murdering her, too—and in the end had dismissed all but two possibilities, both of which made sense to her. The first—that for some reason unknown to her, Mitch had deliberately deserted her but would eventually come back, or send someone else to pick her up. The second—that Mitch had gone for a trip on the boat while she slept, and had been unable to return because of some malfunction of the outboard motor. Either way, it was only a matter of time before they were both reported missing and a search party sent out.
Now, cocooned in the heavy cover, she lowered herself against the tree trunk again, tucking herself in carefully. It was quite cosy, really, and thankfully she had never been nervous of bugs nor afraid of the dark. She looked up at the sky, and felt her breath catch at sight of the royal purple backcloth sequinned with diamond stars, felt a sense of awe as she watched trails of wispy cloud drift past a moon whose brightness cast a strange, ghostly glow on the surface of the ocean. With an ache in her heart, she let her eyelashes drift closed and listened to all the night noises blend in a sleepy lullaby: the whisperings of the surf, the murmur of the breeze in the palm fronds above, the rustle in the grass as creatures settled for the night.
She didn’t know whether to be furious with Mitch, or worried sick about him. Furious, that he had deserted her; or worried sick because he might be out there somewhere in the boat, unable to get back. If only she could decide how she should be feeling, then perhaps she could settle down, like the little creatures in the grass, and fall asleep.
Fat chance…
“Jessica, wake up!”
Jessica gave a protesting whimper and, curling her body more tightly, shrugged off the hand tugging at her shoulder.
“Jessica, do waken. Look, I’ve brought you a flask of coffee to warm you up. Good heavens, girl, why didn’t you spend the night in the cabin? It would have been so much more comfortable.”
Groggily, Jessica opened her eyes, and blinking, put up an arm to shade the brightness. “Put the light out,” she muttered, her voice still rough with sleep. “It’s too—”
“Jessica—” Firm hands hauled her upright, and as she finally came awake, and focused her eyes, she saw, to her astonishment and bewilderment, that the hands belonged to Ben. “Are you all right? Talk to me, for heaven’s sake!”
“Ben?” Again, Jessica found herself blinking like an owl brought from dark to light. “What on earth…?”
But as she looked around, and saw the beach, the smooth turquoise waters…and the grooves on the sand, alongside a very familiar-looking boat…everything came back to her. Her heart seemed to leap into her throat. “Mitch,” she said in a choked voice. “Where is he? Is he all right?”
Ben, usually so cheerful, looked uncharacteristically somber. “Mitch is fine,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll explain everything to you, next time he sees you, but—”
“Where is he?” Jessica felt chilled. Last night she had hauled her shorts and shirt on over her bikini, before dragging the heavy blanket off the bed, but now, even though she was standing there with the blanket wrapped around her, clutching it tightly against her chest, despite the warmth from the early morning sun, she still felt chilled.
“He’s gone—” Ben frowned, his irritation plain. “Left Starlight by helicopter an hour ago.”
“I don’t understand!” Jessica shook her head, her eyes blank. “Where did he go last night? Why did he leave me here alone?”
“You weren’t alone.” Ben sighed heavily. “Mitch beached the boat on the other side of the promontory—”
“But where was he, all night?”
“Close by, apparently. Look—” He put up a hand as Jessica would have burst in with further questions. “I’m sorry, Jessica, that’s all I know. He’s going to be in touch with you, sometime in the next few days, he said—concerning some affair the two of you have to settle? I can’t remember exactly how he worded it. But till then, I’m afraid, you’ll just have to hold your patience. The whole thing’s a mystery to me. I knew nothing of what was happening other than that Mitch asked me yesterday if he could take you here for the day, and that he planned you’d both stay overnight—”
“He planned that? I can’t believe it! He promised he’d get me back to Starlight for the evening ferry! Ben, I have to get to Pointe-à-Pitre within the hour to catch my plane to Antigua, otherwise I’m going to miss my connecting flight—”
“No problem, Jessica. Mitch has arranged for a helicopter to take you directly to Antigua—it’s on standby right now on the landing pad behind the inn.” As Jessica’s mouth fell open, he grimaced apologetically. “High-handed of him, I know…but then, that’s Mitch for you. And he’ll explain everything, I’m sure, when he sees you—”
“So he took the boat back to the hotel this morning,” Jessica finally managed, “asked you to pick me upleft you to do all his dirty work?”
“That’s about the size of it. Look, lass, I brought a flask of coffee for you.” Ben rummaged in a canvas bag lying close by the tree. “I’ll pour you a mug and you can drink it while I check out the cabin. We can talk on the way back, if you like, but there’s not much point-I don’t know much more than you do yourself. But I tell you this, Mitch’s mother is not too pleased with him, the way he’s behaved. She’s beside herself this morning. I—”
“Mitch’s mother?” Jessica stared confusedly at Ben, who was busy pouring steaming coffee into a ceramic mug. “Mitch’s mother is annoyed with him? But—”
“Mmm.” Ben handed her the mug. “Oh, normally he can do no wrong, as far as she’s concerned, but even Alison draws the line at leaving a woman alone here all night—at least, letting that woman believe she’s alone. There you are—and you take it black, I remember that from our lunch the other day. Now, hang on a minute, and I’ll be right back.”
With that, he tramped away along the path to the cabin…leaving Jessica staring after him, her eyes wide and stark with disbelief. Alison was Mitch’s mother? Oh, dear God…
But astounded though she was, Jessica felt all the facts fall into place one after the other, click, click, click. Mitch had been put up for adoption as a baby, she knew that; and all the things he had told her about Alisonshe had been the one who opted out of the relationship; a relationship which went “a long way back,” was how Mitch had described it; and Alison was the one who had started it up again. Had she known the identity of the couple who had adopted Mitch? If so, she would have had no difficulty keeping tabs on them, and on Mitch, all those years when they had been separated.
It was a story, she realized, that had had a happy ending. Mitch and his mother had been reunited, and obviously had a good relationship.
Jessica sighed. How she had misjudged him…and Alison, too. And she would never have known, had Ben not said what he had just said. Obviously he had somehow got the notion that Mitch had told her the whole story. She would have to be careful not to say anything to alert him to the truth.
Gathering herself together as she heard Ben come back along the path, she sipped from the hot coffee, gaining some comfort from it.
“Best take that old blanket with you,” Ben said. “Keep you warm on the water. It’s early yet, and there’s a keen breeze out there.”
“Thanks,” she murmured. “I will.” Though as she spoke, her mind was not on the blanket, but on something that had just occurred to her, something that jolted her heart. She’d been so ready to judge both Mitch and Alison on the strength of a few casually overheard words; was it possible that she had been wrong, too, about Mitch and Amanda?
But as her mind veered back to that day at Stokely Manor, and their low, tense voices echoed once more in her head, she knew she hadn’t been wrong. That situation had been a different one altogether. She had heard Amanda say her child was Mitch’s, had heard Mitch admit the child was his. What more damning evidence did she need?
The man was contemptible, and she hoped never to set eyes on him again. Yet…he was, apparently, planning to look her up, to press her to make a decision regarding his offer of a “permanent affair.” Surely he would never find her? Unless, of course, he connected his failure to acquire the Markington Estate with her visit to Starlight. But why should he? She hadn’t by so much as a hint given away anything of her job, her whereabouts, or her new life. And he hadn’t found her when she had run out on him before.
But then, he hadn’t really been looking for her before. That much she had gathered. Now, things were different. He still wanted her, and believed she might be “available.”
Ben pushed the boat into the gently lapping water, and Jessica clambered in, shuddering as she slipped her sandals onto her wet feet and wrapped the blanket more tightly around herself as she sat down. But even in the shelter of the blanket’s warmth, she felt as cold as a marble statue, unable to shake off a premonition of impending doom.