Chapter 9

In the morning, Samantha’s innate pride kept her from wearing her heart on her sleeve. Alex also pretended nothing was wrong, although she noticed he stayed in the study all morning to write, only emerging once to silently refill his coffee mug.

Samantha figured he was merely ignoring her again, but just before lunch, he emerged from the study and spoke to her.

“Aren’t we going to lunch?” he asked casually.

And what could she do but pretend to go along with him and act like nothing was wrong? She went out to the Jeep with him, and on the way, they met Grandma, who was just coming up the path.

“Albert is sick today, Mr. Alex,” she explained regretfully. “Not me, I come to clean. You want me cook dinner?”

Alex shot a preoccupied glance at the old woman and nodded. “Yeah, why don’t you? Miss Wilkes isn’t feeling well today, either.”

Samantha climbed into the Jeep, her temper rising.

Oh, now it’s Miss Wilkes, is it? she thought, feeling a strong urge to smack him upside the head. And though she sat like a stone with her teeth gritted the whole way to town, he remained polite and formal, so she tried her very best to ignore him.

The truth was, she was completely embarrassed, and sincerely wished she’d never come up with that stupid plan of hers to seduce him in the hot tub. She was aware she’d handled it clumsily, and now she had to deal with the fallout.

When they finally got to the café, Samantha slid into the seat across the table from Alex, and still seeking to avoid any contact with him, she let her eyes wander the room.

Instead of his face, she concentrated on the pleasant, comforting clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen, concentrated instead on the delicious smell of the food being prepared there. And though he’d never brought her here before, all the people seemed to know him, or, at any rate, didn’t bother him about his resemblance to Jesse Dent.

Alex settled comfortably into the faded Naugahyde booth, looking perfectly at ease. Ignoring him and his smug attitude, Samantha happened to catch the eye of a cute young tourist. He had a devilish little blonde wisp of a mustache, and he smiled at Samantha, eyes only on her. He didn’t even seem to recognize Alex or notice his similarity to Jesse Dent, and Samantha felt unexpectedly flattered.

She smiled harmlessly back at the young man.

“Hi,” she said, responding in a shy, quiet voice, watching his reaction. To her surprise, the young stranger seemed attracted to her and actually smiled back at her. And Alex, realizing she was speaking to someone, swiftly turned his head to see who it was.

The young man quickly glanced away, still smiling to himself, unable to conceal the fact that he’d been flirting with Samantha. A few minutes later, Alex excused himself to go to the men’s room, and the young man dropped into his now-vacant seat.

“Hi. My name’s Jason.”

“I’m Samantha.”

“Are you staying around here?”

“No, I actually live here, about fifteen minutes away.”

“We’re having a big keg party tonight on Kepuhi Beach. Any chance you can get away from your dad?”

“My dad?” she asked blankly.

All of a sudden, Samantha realized Jason meant Alex and she shook her head, though she had to admit to herself she was slightly amused.

Alex would absolutely hate anyone to think he was that old.

He came back then and stood next to the table, looking none too pleased to find the young man sitting there with Samantha.

“Hey, Chief, you want to get out of my seat?”

Jason stood up and cheerfully cleared the way for Alex, but turned to him, and in a-matter-of-fact voice, spoke directly to him.

“You should let your daughter go out with me,” he told Alex. “I’m a nice guy.”

Alex said nothing, but turned a dark glance on Samantha, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

Jason failed to notice Alex’s reaction, for he, too, had turned toward Samantha.

“Can I have your phone number?”

“No,” Alex said at once, slamming a fist down onto the table so hard he nearly upset Samantha’s glass of water.

He rose to his feet and Jason, not wishing to face down an enraged father/husband/lover/whatever, quickly backed down and faded into the background as Alex turned to Samantha, glaring at her. She, however, knowing herself to be innocent, stared him down.

“Let’s go,” he said, going over to her and wrenching her from her seat. Once she was on her feet, he seized her elbow and propelled her toward the door.

When they got outside, Samantha broke free, angry and humiliated.

“Oh my God. You really think you are my father.”

“Just get in the goddamned Jeep, Samantha.”

“What, Alex? What the hell did I do?”

He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

Samantha, afraid that in this state of mind he might actually leave her behind, climbed in beside him. Neither of them trusted themselves to speak, so they drove home in silence and, once there, Alex stormed into the house and locked himself in the study for the rest of the day.

Grandma and Samantha exchanged glances, and then the girl burst into tears. Grandma placed a soothing hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t you worry, Missy Samantha. He gets like that all the time. Just leave him alone, he’ll be okay.”

Samantha nodded and went to her room for the rest of the day, regretting she even came to Hawaii, had ever even met Alex.

The next day, she had nothing to say to him. She hadn’t slept well - she’d wanted to go to that beach party to meet Jason, just to show Alex, but hadn’t dared to - and she’d tossed and turned all night long.

Grandma, anticipating their conditions, came early and fixed a nice, hot breakfast for both of them. To keep them from stewing in their own thoughts, she chatted aimlessly and sang a lot of old-fashioned Japanese songs as she tidied up the kitchen and washed the dishes.

Alex said nothing the whole time. He watched Grandma steadily as she talked, and Samantha could see this was a normal thing for the two of them, that Grandma was adept at drawing him out of one of his moods.

“You’ll see, Mr. Alex. Albert will bring lots of coconuts today. Lots of mangoes. I’ll make chutney soon, and guava jelly. Today Albert brings bananas, too, and I’ll make the favorite muffins you like very much.”

Samantha’s eyes darted toward him and she caught the glimmer of a smile.

“Will you teach me to make the muffins, Grandma?” she asked.

Grandma stopped talking abruptly and eyed Samantha, who saw that Grandma realized, now, what the problem was. Her face lit up and she seized on this.

“Yes,” she nodded, agreeing vehemently. “Yes, you make the muffins for Mr. Alex. Yes, Missy Samantha, you make the muffins.”

When Samantha caught Alex’s glance again, he smiled faintly, looking ashamed of himself.

He had, after all, been extremely hard on her. And, after all, it wasn’t her fault Jason had asked her out.

“Samantha, I’d like to see you in the study after breakfast,” he said, speaking to her for the first time since they left the café.

After the meal, Samantha followed him into the study. He shut the door behind her and gestured toward the seat he wanted her to take. Without preamble, he spoke.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted yesterday, Samantha. You have every right to be mad at me.”

“Please don’t stand over me like you’re my father. Sit down already.”

Alex obeyed, sitting next to her and taking her hand in his.

“What if I take you to bed, Samantha? Would that be good? Would that help you get it out of your system?”

“Get what out of my system?” she asked sharply.

“This foolish notion of yours that we can be lovers.”

“Foolish?”

“What do you want with me anyway? I’m just a cynical old goat. Is it the Jesse Dent thing, or what?”

“I don’t give a damn about Jesse Dent.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just want to be with you.”

His fingertips stroked her cheek adoringly.

“You are with me.”

“You know what I mean, Alex.”

“I can’t do that, Samantha. Didn’t I promise your dad? Besides, you’re just an innocent little baby. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Guess what, Alex. I’m already hurt.”

He shut his eyes.

“So you are.”

Samantha could hardly fail to miss the slight tone of self-satisfaction in his voice.

“It’s those big brown eyes of yours that always get to me,” he continued.

“Oh, would you stop it, Alex?” she demanded, deciding in that one split second to teach him a lesson.

He’d tempted and teased her for so long now, it was high time he had a taste of his own lousy medicine. Getting up, she stood before him, forcing him to glance up at her as she stood there glaring at him.

“There’s no way I can love you Sam - ”

Sinking to her knees on the couch, she straddled him, drowning out his last words with a forceful kiss. At first, he stiffened and seized her shoulders as if to push her away, like he had in the hot tub, but gradually, she felt him surrender to her, responding to her kisses.

No more protest from him, her lips ravaged his and then, once she felt that he’d yielded enough, once she began to doubt her own ability to withdraw, Samantha stood up suddenly, ripping herself from his embrace.

It was the hardest thing in the world to make herself pull away, but she knew, for his sake as well as hers, that she had to.

“Wow,” she said, her lips bruised from the voracious kiss she’d given him. She smiled in mock-wonder, touching her fingertips to them as a broad grin swept across Alex’s face.

She cleared her throat, gauging his reaction, and then she spoke again.

“You were so right, Alex. It is out of my system.”

Alex’s smug expression vanished and was replaced by stunned dismay. She bit her lip to fight back a grin and, without another word, Samantha sat down and began her afternoon’s work, trying hard not to let him see that her hands were trembling.

At first it was difficult to concentrate, for she knew he was watching her, was staring at her in disbelief, but gradually she was able to shut him out of her thoughts.

He finally got up and left her there alone and, several hours later, he brought her a couple of new chapters, dumping them unceremoniously on her desk.

“Would you mind proofreading these for me, Miss Wilkes?”

“Of course not, Mr. Shannon.”

With that, he left her and she set to work on her new task.

“‘The Baroque painter Titian?’” she read aloud as she scanned one of the pages.

Samantha knew that, no matter how angry she was with Alex, it was her duty to call this correction to his attention in case he’d mentioned Titian in other parts of his book.

She found him in the kitchen, sitting at the table fooling around with a broken lamp. She leaned over his shoulder, close to his ear.

“I found an error, Alex. Titian is a Venetian painter. Late Renaissance, not Baroque.”

He pulled back and rudely snatched the page from her hand.

“What are you talking about?”

“You called Titian a Baroque painter.”

“He is a Baroque painter.”

Samantha straightened her back and smiled. “Titian is not Baroque, Alex.”

“Yeah? What do you know about it?”

She laughed a little. “What do you mean? He’s Venetian. I used to be an Art History major before I switched to English. You asked me to proofread, so I did.”

“Well, now I’m asking you to leave it. Stet. Or don’t you know what that means, Miss English Expert?”

The tone of his voice stung her and she recoiled. He was being unreasonable, but she did know what she was talking about.

“I’ll go get the book and show you.”

He slapped the page down onto the table.

“Don’t bother.”

“No, I will, Alex. I know what I’m talking about and I want you to know that I know. You know?”

He failed to laugh at her little joke so she started off toward her room. In fury, Alex rose from his chair and pursued her.

“Come back here.”

She whirled around, shocked by the sudden intensity of his anger.

“Relax, Alex.”

“Don’t you tell me to relax after you’ve deliberately defied me.”

Without meaning to, Samantha shrank from him, afraid she’d somehow insulted him.

“Alex, Please. Just let me show you.”

“Damn you, Jennie, I’m warning you.”

Samantha’s mouth fell open.

“Jennie?”

He turned away, looking embarrassed.

“Samantha,” he said, correcting himself. “Whatever.”

She watched as he sat back down at the table and picked up the screwdriver he was working with. He played with it, trying to pretend he didn’t know she was still there.

“Alex?” she called softly.

He turned around in his chair and his glance met hers. He seemed hurt, somehow, and turned back to the lamp and began working on it again.

Alex was sulky at dinner and still refused to talk to her, but Samantha was curious about the name he’d mistakenly called her. She forced him into conversation.

“Who was Jennie, Alex?” she asked, trying hard to sound casual.

“She was my wife for three years.”

“Yeah? What happened to her?”

Exasperated, he sighed heavily and glared across the table at her.

“If you must know, she cheated on me with the UPS man, so I left her.”

Samantha thinking of their own UPS man, a huge, overweight Samoan, stifled a giggle. But it sounded so absurdly hackneyed and improbable that, despite herself, she burst into laughter, unable to stop herself.