Edge of Paradise (10 page)

She made a point of looking down at her hands to conceal the disappointment she knew would show on her face. Contrary to what he thought, she was quite dismayed at the prospect of a day of freedom. She had hoped he would suggest a delay in starting work because she was eager to see something of her surroundings before getting her nose down to the grindstone. But she had anticipated Paul's
being
with her to show her the sights. Good things should be shared, and a day on her own, sightseeing and generally loafing around, had little appeal.

‘Don't start dinner without me,' he instructed. ‘I'll be bringing a guest back with me, possibly more than one, and I want you to be present. Wear something stunning. I want you to look especially good.'

Feeling irritated by his manner, and the implication that she was to be shown off like a prize trophy, which surely didn't fall within the terms of her job description, she assented with marked reluctance. ‘All right.'

His eyes narrowed at the stiffness of her tone, but all he said was, ‘How will you spend your day?'

‘Getting my bearings. And I still have to unpack.'

‘Ah, yes! Thanks for the reminder. Don't unpack.'

Her dismay of a moment earlier was nothing to the sinking feeling she experienced at his words. Yet again her pride came to her rescue as she inquired, ‘You're sending me back home?'

She'd said the wrong thing again. It seemed that every time she opened her mouth she brought his vengeance down upon her head.

She was grabbed by her upper arms and yanked violently out of her chair. ‘You look as innocent as a newborn kitten, but you're as
cunning
as a cat. I brought you here for a specific purpose, and you're damn well going to fulfill it. I've told you before and I'll tell you again, and I'll keep on telling you until it sinks in. This time you've picked the wrong guy. No cheap little trickster is going to cheat on me. I've shelled out good money. I intend to get full value.'

‘That's fine by me.' She wasn't a shirker. The check he'd given her in advance, the balance of which she'd banked for Ally to draw on for the needs of the business, had been extremely generous and she had every intention of working hard to earn it. ‘All this aggravation, simply because I asked if you were sending me home! What was I to think when you told me not to unpack?'

‘I thought it might have occurred to you that New Providence was merely a stopping place before moving on.'

‘It might have crossed my mind, but I didn't know.'

‘I assumed you did.'

‘How could I?'

‘You read the gossip columns, I presume? My private life has been chewed over pretty thoroughly in the past and there's been a recent revival of all the mud-slinging and the innuendoes. I find it difficult to believe that you missed it. I think you're putting me on.'

‘No, I'm not.'

He was still holding her by the arms and
although
their bodies weren't touching, she was too close—or not close enough—for comfort. She could feel the heat he was giving off, and her own body was no better behaved. The clean, masculine smell of him excited her. She had only to be near him to feel a prickly sensation in her fingertips which knew a terrible desire to reach out and touch him. She knew she should fight against these new and disturbing emotions, but she did not know how this could be accomplished. And it seemed unfair that she had to resist when she suddenly felt so alive. He had awakened responses in her that she hadn't known existed.

Enough! She must stop making excuses for herself, stop looking for justification. These were animal instincts which must not be allowed to get out of hand. And that led her naturally into thoughts of the vulnerability of her position, which was getting more complex all the time. She was away from home, heavily indebted to him and dependent on him for food and shelter. She had brought extra travelers' checks with her, to cover the unexpected, and she had more than enough to pay for her return ticket home. Should she make a run for it, before she got deeper in his debt, before Ally had time to draw on the money deposited in the bank? Yes, that would be the sensible thing to do—today, while he was away! She must pray that she could get a flight at such short notice.

Could
he actually read her thoughts? She could hardly believe her ears when he said, ‘You can forget that.' He towered above her, his face, excitingly handsome in fury, menace sparking from his jade green eyes, showing no compassion for the abject helplessness expressed by her pallor. It flashed through her tormented mind that it gave him pleasure to have her pliant and subservient to his will, because a smile, hard and without humor, lifted the corners of his mouth. ‘You should have taken your chance to back out when it was offered to you. It's too late now. You made a bargain; I intend to see that you stick to it. I'm keeping you with me for as long as it amuses me to do so.'

‘You can't make terms like that. It's barbaric.'

‘I can and I am. I've paid liberally for that right.'

‘That's nonsense. You're talking as if you've bought me.'

‘And haven't I?'

‘Certainly not! The days of buying people are over. You only bought my services.'

‘It amounts to the same thing,' he said with arrogant and cruel indifference to her feelings, the contempt in his eyes puzzling her even as it stripped her of dignity. His voice took on a note of steel command.

‘Remember what I said,
within reason
. Enjoy your day, but no tricks. Don't get up to any
mischief,
and don't get in touch with your man-eating companion from the plane.'

‘You can't dictate to me like this!' she said. But she had been too choked up with annoyance and humiliation to get the words out quickly enough to serve any useful or valid purpose. By the time she had summoned up her protest it was too late—he'd already left and she found that she was speaking to herself.

CHAPTER SIX

She leaned her elbows on the balcony rail, ostensibly looking down, but not seeing the colorful scene 'round the swimming pool area, or the swaying casuarinas and coral sand lapped by the sea. All she could see was Paul's face, set hard in contempt and determination.

The man was a nut case, and her brain couldn't be working to normal capacity or she'd take no notice of what he said and catch the next plane home. But if she did it would be the end of Allycats, leaving them in a worse plight than before. Her mistake in accepting the commission would cost dearly. She would have to recompense Paul for the clothes she'd bought for the trip and her air fare, and she had no guarantee that Ally hadn't already drawn on the money she'd deposited in the bank. Even if Paul agreed to give her time to
pay
off the debt, it wouldn't solve everything. She felt that it had been her misjudgment, not Ally's, so she should be the one to pay. But would Ally let her? Knowing Ally, she'd insist on sharing the burden, and Ally had enough on her plate as it was. A blow like this could tip the balance; she might decide to give up the struggle to keep Samantha and let Ray's parents take control—in Samantha's best interest. But it wouldn't be, and Catherine knew without a shadow of a doubt that it would break Ally's heart to have to give up her daughter. A deep sigh escaped Catherine's lips. All things considered, she couldn't back out. It seemed that she was stuck with Paul, with his roaming hands and condemning looks and sharp tongue, and his undeniable magnetism and charm. Had he been repulsive she would have stood a much better chance of fending him off. As it was . . .

She still couldn't get over his cheek in thinking he could get away with such monstrous behavior. She had been right about him from the beginning. Feminine worship had ruined him. He was so used to women falling over backward for him that he was stunned when one held out against him. Like an overly indulged child, he couldn't bear to be thwarted. She could think of no other reason for his strange manner toward her. It was pathetic, really. She hadn't ever considered herself to be a head-turner, the type that left
men
gasping. At best, he must see her as some kind of challenge merely because of the indifference she was clinging to by the skin of her teeth. Once he overcame her scruples she would have no further attraction for him, and what kind of mess would that leave her in? As if she didn't know! She had never before met anyone quite like him and she could only rue the day that some perverse mischance of circumstance had put her so completely in his power.

Oh, well—nothing was going to be solved by futile repining. She might as well make the best of her unexpected day off and take a look 'round. Not being the type to find joy in lounging around swimming pools, she dug out a comfortable pair of walking sandals.

Before leaving the hotel she bought a postcard for Ally, which she filled out, tongue in cheek, in the lobby. Just a few hastily written lines to say that she'd arrived safely and all was well. She left it to be mailed at the reception desk, and then swung out the hotel door and made for the heart of the shopping area.

She looked in awe and admiration at the exquisite workmanship that had gone into making the popular crafts: straw goods, wood carvings and shellwork. She wandered into a courtyard where paintings and pottery were for sale, along with bolts of fabric in colorful island designs. She didn't buy anything,
although
the temptation was great, feeling it wiser, in the circumstances, to save her money.

Inevitably, the crush and the heat, her policy not to buy and her love of the sea drove her down to the beach. It was cooler there, but the heat was still overpowering. She succumbed to the appeal of a long, ice-cold, refreshing fruit drink, which she purchased from a beach bar, and soaked up the stunning difference of everything.

She had always thought that the sky was the same everywhere, a little bluer in some places, grayer in others. But this sky bore no relation to the sky back home. Nor did anything else about the place. The trees were different; the birds were different; the flowers were different. Even the air didn't smell like air as she knew it. It came pure on the wind, washed clean by the miles of ocean, and she would have been perfectly happy just standing there, breathing it in all day.

She saw Joseph, the Bahamian porter at the hotel, and she waved to him. He grinned back at her. His face reflected his way of life and exhibited the same look of contentment she had noticed on the faces of all the locals, a look which the holidaymakers hoped would rub off onto them.

She was enchanted by it all. The color, the atmosphere, the fringe-topped surreys drawn by horses wearing straw hats. One stopped, spilling out a boisterous, rowdy threesome.
Two
boys, clean-cut individuals in their early to middle twenties, one dark-haired, the other a ginger nut, the freckles on his laughing face burnt deep into his skin. And a girl, a tall, voluptuous blonde wearing tight-fitting pale blue pants and a twist of material supplying minimum coverage up top, who yelled, ‘Catherine!'

Simultaneously, Catherine greeted her in spontaneous delight. ‘Deirdre!'

‘This is Piers and this is Jock and they're both fantastic guys, sweetie, so you can't go wrong.'

‘Let her make up her own mind,' the dark-haired boy, obviously French and therefore Piers, said in accented English. ‘She can go wrong any time she wants to with me.
Enchanté
,' he said, bending over Catherine's hand and sliding her a look of warm familiarity.

‘Naughty boy, Piers,' Deirdre chided with a giggle. ‘Catherine's not like that.'

‘You stick with me, Catherine,' Jock said. For all his fiery hair his Scottish burr was soft and full of charm.

Catherine had no intention of sticking with any one of them. She suspected that they had been drinking. At least, Deirdre and Piers had; Jock seemed sober enough.

‘We've had the most fantastic time,' Deirdre said, tugging Catherine's arm and commanding her attention. ‘We've been to the
Queen's
Staircase—sixty-five steps hewn out of coral rock to provide swift passage for the troops from the fort to the sea. That's history, Catherine. Isn't it something! The queen was Charlotte, wife of George the third. And that's enough culture for one day. Now we're going for another little drink. Why don't you come with us?'

‘Thanks, but no. I've just had a drink, and I don't want another.'

‘Now let me guess what potent concoction that would be,' Deirdre said irrepressibly. ‘Water laced with water?'

‘Fruit juice, actually. That's what you ought to be drinking.'

‘Oh, don't be so stuffy,' Deirdre said, tossing her blond head. ‘I'm on holiday. If you can't let go a bit on holiday, what's the point in coming? Do yourself a good turn, kid; join us and have some fun.'

It wasn't Catherine's idea of fun at all, but she thought she might have it on her conscience if she let Deirdre go off with the two boys by herself. They looked harmless enough, even the hot-eyed Piers, because she thought there was a lot of bravado in his attitude, and Jock seemed quite steady. On the other hand, Deirdre had only just got there, so she couldn't know them very well. Perhaps, Catherine decided, she'd tag on for a while and see what happened.

When they passed the beach bar she
thought
they'd forgotten they were going in search of a drink, and didn't bother to remind them. It never occurred to her that they were going farther afield in pursuit of their quarry, and she was surprised to find herself being taken to the landing stage, where a launch was tied up which they seemed to have a proprietorial interest in.

‘Is this your boat?' Deirdre inquired.

‘Not ours by right of ownership, worse luck,' Jock admitted. ‘It belongs to our boss. Come on, girls. Let's have you aboard.'