A Woman's Heart (17 page)

"Hello," Ruby answered, her cheerful voice warbling down the line.

"Hi, Ruby, it's me. We made it. How's Alex?"

"He's fine." Her friend chuckled. "He and John are sound asleep on the couch. John was supposed to be entertaining him while I made dinner."

The corners of Jann's lips tugged upward. Not the first time the Capt'n's endless stories had put someone to sleep.

"Did you make good time?" Ruby asked, her question drawing Jann's attention back to their conversation. "No problems along the way?"

"No." Jann's smile died. "No problems." Not if you discounted impossible feelings for a man who could give her nothing, yet wanted everything she had and then some. She cleared her throat. "Has Alex's temperature gone down?"

"He's still a little warm..."

Jann's fingers tightened around the receiver.

"...but I think I felt the edge of a tooth this morning."

Her grip eased.

"As soon as it's through, he'll be right as rain. How's Peter?"

Jann's throat grew constricted. She couldn't reply.

"Is he behaving himself?"

"What do you mean?"

"I guess if you don't know," Ruby replied, her laughter splashing through the line over her, "then he is. It's too bad. I had great hopes for that young man."

"Ruby, really!" Her friend was incorrigible! She would have to be set straight before her imagination got completely out of hand. Jann glanced out the phone booth window. Peter's legs were all that remained visible beneath the low hanging roots of the banyan tree dominating the town square. She turned her back on him, determined to ignore the tingle the sight of him always brought, trying, instead, to concentrate on her conversation.

"Peter isn't interested in falling in love," she reminded her friend.

"Men seldom are," Ruby said. "Luckily, they seldom see it coming."

"We can't even be friends, let alone more than that. I don't like the man." She swallowed hard on the lie. "Or trust him. There's only one thing on his mind, and that's to take Alex away."

"Jann, honey—"

"There's nothing more to say about it."

"I've seen the way he looks at you," the older woman countered softly.

Jann caught a breath then released it slowly. "What way?"

"As though he doesn't want to like you any more than you want to like him, but he can't help himself." Ruby's voice held more amusement. "It seems to make him testy."

"He's testy, all right."

"He's not the only one," her friend chided gently.

Jann rested her forehead against the cool glass of the phone booth, grateful Ruby couldn't see her face. "I have to go now," she said hurriedly. "We're going out for a quick bite, then back to the boat to bed."

"That sounds more promising."

"Ruby," Jann protested then stopped, defeated. It was no use. She knew Ruby too well. Her friend would never let up 'til Jann was married and had six kids. Well, it would be a snowy day in Hawaii before that happened!

"Give Alex a kiss for me," she said softly, a sudden longing to hold her baby sweeping up and overwhelming her. "Take good care of him."

"You know I will. Cheerio." Then Ruby hung up.

Temples throbbing, Jann slowly placed the receiver back on its hook. Ever since Peter had kissed her, the day had gone wrong. Not talking further, they had silently followed the lead boats into Lahaina and anchored
Heart's Desire
in the harbor. They'd rowed to shore in the dinghy, all the while keeping warily apart from one another, as though engaged in an uneasy truce, as though something could erupt at any moment.

All afternoon, she had snapped photos of triumphant sailors and cheering onlookers, shifting at times to capture the disappointment on the faces of the men and women on the boats finishing too late to be first.

She had caught glimpses of Peter as she worked, his black head rising above the crowd and drawing her eye as a magnet draws metal until he had disappeared, leaving her in what she thought would be peace.

But it hadn't worked out that way. Even with him gone, she hadn't been able to concentrate. Jann frowned. The pictures she'd taken on shore would be mediocre at best, technically competent but lacking the emotion and perspective she had managed on the water. It would be a miracle if she could salvage any that were decent.

She glowered in the direction of the banyan tree. Peter might be made of money, but she wasn't! To survive, she had to sell her photos.

Peter was completely visible now. He had dropped down out of the tree's enormous low-lying branches and was lounging against the trunk looking far more comfortable than he had any right to look.

Jann strode across the street, dust spiraling up from beneath her feet. But when she shoved aside a trailing root of the banyan, she halted, suddenly hesitant. The ethereal atmosphere of the enclosed space beneath the tree's branches evaporated the hard edge of her annoyance, and the sunlight filtering in through the filigreed roots was magical.

"You look as though you're spoiling for a fight?" Peter drawled.

Jann blinked, the spell broken.

"Or have you run out of film?" His gaze drifted over her face.

"No," she snapped.

"Then it must have been the phone call."

He had seen her as clearly as she'd seen him.

"You called Ruby," he guessed correctly. "Is Alexander all right?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Then it's something else that's eating you."

"You know very well what the problem is!"

"You're not still worried about that kiss?"

"No," she lied. "As long as we're clear about it never happening again." With her skin already broiled by the sun and sea breezes, perhaps he wouldn't notice the heat sweeping her face.

"Come along," he said, drawing close and taking her by the elbow. He pulled her after him through the dangling roots.

"Where are we going?"

"We've got a reservation for dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"You soon will be." He gave a gentle tug on her hand. "You don't eat enough to keep a fly alive."

"I was planning to have dinner on the boat." She felt breathless with the sudden movement, or maybe it was the way he held her by the hand.

"A romantic dinner for two?" he asked, with a backward glance towards her. He smiled. "Sounds good."

"I was thinking more of a sandwich for one. I wouldn't dream of holding you back from a night on the town."

He suddenly pulled her hard against his chest, ignoring her gasp of protest. A middle-aged woman and her balding counterpart, both clad in twin Hawaiian-print shirts, passed slowly by on the narrow sidewalk.

Peter's body shaped to hers, fitting spoon-like against her back as it had once before. Only this time it was worse. His heat was her heat, too intimate, too intoxicating to ignore.

He held his arm across her chest just above her breasts. If she moved it would be as if he caressed them. Her nipples hardened and strained against her shirt.

The couple murmured, "Thank-you," as they passed, but Peter continued to hold her, a moment too long, a lifetime too short. It was as if she were paralyzed in a cocoon of heat. As his musky masculine scent tickled her nose, her hormones danced.

"Have you fallen asleep?" he whispered, his breath teasing her ear.

She attempted to move away, but his arms remained around her, keeping her close.

"If you're tired," he continued, his voice now serious, "I could take you back to the boat."

"No!" She pushed against his arm until, with a suddenness that staggered her, he released her. "If I wanted to go back to the boat..." She turned and stared straight into his eyes. "...I am perfectly capable of getting there myself."

To spend an evening in his company, drawn to him but unable to act on those feelings would be difficult, but to be alone on the boat with him—she shivered—that would be impossible!

"But it has been a long day," she added. "I guess I'm hungrier than I thought."

He grinned down at her. "Right then." He held out his hand.

With reluctance, she took it, and together they wove between the tourists maneuvering the main street. The restaurant was down a narrow alley, half hidden by two potted palms standing sentinel-like on either side of a stained glass door.

The maitre d' led them to an inner courtyard complete with fish pond, splashing waterfall and intricately pruned bonsai trees. Their table stood in one corner, an elegant glass affair mirroring the garden's perfection.

"Like it?" Peter asked.

"Yes." Jann sank into a cushioned wicker chair and scanned the courtyard with delight. "How did you discover it?"

"Contacts," he answered obliquely.

She frowned.

Peter chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "While you were snapping your future fame and fortune..."

She stiffened. How had he guessed how much the photos meant to her?

"...I was exploring. A fellow on the dock suggested this place. He said leave the harbor views and the mediocre food to the tourists." Peter grinned ruefully. "Mind you, he was pretty drunk."

She smiled back at Peter, his good humor infectious. An unfamiliar mixture of excitement and anticipation coursed through her.

"What would you like?" He perused the menu the waiter had left with them. "They seem to have every species of fish known to man."

She skimmed the bewildering list. "Alligator," she said at last, glancing up at him and smiling.

"Alligator!" His brows formed question marks, but a smile lurked on his lips.

"Something with bite." She grinned. "You never know when you might need it."

He threw back his head and laughed out loud. Then he beckoned the waiter.

"Alligator for two," he ordered, a clear challenge in his eyes.

* * *

Jann accepted Peter's proffered hand and stepped off the dock into the skiff. She almost fell into Peter's lap, but he steadied her in the same way he steadied the boat, by holding on to her firmly.

Only with her it didn't work. She didn't feel steady at all. She had drunk too much wine, was feeling giddy with the effect. It had seemed appropriate at the time. Made her feel as though their having dinner together was somehow ordinary and safe—such as two friends might share. But now, sinking onto the skiff's wooden seat, willing the dizziness in her head to disappear, Jann wished she hadn't thrown caution to the wind.

Peter shoved an oar against the pier and pushed off, his muscles rippling as he rowed. The oars slipped through the water as noiselessly as thread through a needle, the only audible sound that of laughter echoing from harbor-side cafes.

It was impossible to avoid touching Peter, with his long legs stretched out on either side of hers. Warmly, seductively, they sent her nerve-endings into a tailspin.

She tilted her head back and gazed up at the stars instead. They usually offered perspective, but tonight they were no help. Even compared to the universe, her problems seemed as insurmountable as climbing a frayed rope to the moon.

She glanced down at her watch. Not even midnight yet. Late enough for bed, but—she glanced dubiously across at Peter—she wasn't sure she would be able to sleep?

By the time they drew near
Heart's Desire
, her stomach was in knots. Peter guided the skiff close to the ladder and she grabbed hold, teetering for an instant on the bottom rung before scrambling up. Peter tossed her the skiff's rope and she secured it to the boat.

Then he followed her up, his bulk looming black against the night sky as he stepped into the cockpit.

"Thank you for dinner," Jann said, struggling to slow the racing of her heart.

"My pleasure." His voice was as velvety as the night.

She shivered.

"Cold?" he asked, touching her shoulder.

"No," she gasped, heat racing through her.

"Don't worry," he said softly, moving inexorably closer. "I'm not going to kiss you again."

She wanted to be kissed. Her lips trembled with need.

His jaw was taut, his own lips tight with tension. And his eyes pulled her. For all their hooded intensity, they glowed—the kind of glow no woman could ignore.

He wanted her, and not just for a single kiss under a tropical moon, but completely, possessively, with nothing held back.

He wanted all of her.

Her lips parted. For an instant, she was positive he would take her right there on the deck, under the eyes of heaven.

And for that same single moment, she longed to take him in return, to meet and match the thrust of his body and the penetration of his soul, to mingle their hearts and passion and come together as one. To be encircled in the shelter of his arms and loved as a woman should be loved.

As she never had been loved.

She saw all that was possible and ached to receive it, but this was the man who planned to take Alex from her. With an inarticulate cry, she pushed him away as fiercely as she would thrust a serpent from her bosom.