Hideaway (12 page)

Her gaze narrowed as she stared down at the photographs of several pairs of silver candlesticks. She considered candlesticks to be one of the most essential pieces of silver to own; the Dutch
patron who commissioned to have the manor house built had a passion for them which had been handed down through subsequent generations.

Parris had catalogued a pair of five-shell-base circa 1760 Georgian candlesticks; circa 1880 Baltimore repoussé candlesticks from Samuel Kirk. The extreme rococo curves of a pair of circa 1885 French first standard candelabra by Armand Gross were only matched in bravado by a pair of 1825 Warwick vase wine coolers. An exquisite 1860 sterling bowl with matching serving pieces crafted by silversmith John Wendt rounded out the exquisite collection.

What puzzled her was that the five-shell-base Georgian candlesticks were quintessentially Southern. What was a New York Hudson River Valley family doing with pieces of silver that were usually seen only on a formal Southern table? She was taught that Southerners have very different tastes in silver from Easterners. Southerners liked silver that reflected very understated, conservative tastes, and collected for style, not for name.

Parris felt the pull of his energy and presence before looking up. She didn’t know how long he’d been standing in the doorway to her bedroom, waiting and watching, but something impalpable raced through her. Glancing up, she met his dark eyes.

She wanted to run away, hide, but his emotions kept pulling her back; back to where she was unable to resist him, and back to love him. Martin was a thief: he’d stolen her love and her heart.

Their gazes held, and a whispered silence was broken even though no words were spoken.

She remembered every inch of his large body as if it had been only the night before. Her hands and mouth had explored his flesh, drawing moans of pure unbridled pleasure from him whenever she led him to heights of spiraling fulfillment. Martin had been an excellent teacher, and she an apt student.

She tried ignoring the once-familiar throbbing in the lower part of her body. It had occurred so quickly she wasn’t able to hide the shattering reaction from him. Her lips parted and she closed her eyes while sighing audibly.

Martin’s heart pumped painfully in his chest as he watched the color rise under Parris’s golden-brown skin. His hands tightened into fists as another part of his body tightened and pulsed with desire.

He’d lied to himself; he’d told himself that he could be rational. He could see her and remain in control. He was wrong. He wanted her; he wanted to sleep with her.

“I’m leaving now,” he said quietly. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Parris nodded, not moving or saying anything. For if she would have spoken she would have asked him to stay—to spend the night.

She opened her eyes and stared at the spot where he had stood seconds before.

“He knew,” she whispered to the empty space. He knew she wanted him. Martin was right. Nothing had changed. Everything had remained the same, except for Regina.

R
egina’s fever broke after forty-eight hours, leaving her with a cough that wracked her thin body every time she took a deep breath.

The cough bothered Parris more than the fever because it was debilitating. The doctor had prescribed a cough elixir which suppressed the cough while leaving her drowsy and sleeping most of the time, and instead of her missing three days of school it had become seven days.

Parris had held off confirming her reservations to go to the MGM Grand extravaganza in Las Vegas because she didn’t know whether Regina would be up to the exhausting activities associated with a family vacation resort.

Martin waited until Regina had gone to bed when he asked the question that had been nagging at Parris for days.

“Are you still going away for Christmas?”

She stood at the wide window in the living room, staring out at the lighted Christmas tree in the center of the courtyard of the housing development.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. He crossed the room and stood behind her. She could feel the heat of his body and the whisper of his breath on the back of her neck.

“I want you and Regina to come to Jamaica with me.”

She spun around, her eyes wide with surprise. Didn’t he know he had gotten her pregnant in Jamaica?

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It just wouldn’t work, Martin.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Us, Martin. We can’t relive what once was.”

The forefinger of his right hand swept over his black moustache as he smiled. “That week will never be repeated, Parris. I’m enough of a realist to accept that.

“You’d planned to take a vacation anyway and Regina needs a warm climate so she can get rid of her nagging cough,” he continued, watching her face as she registered his carefully chosen words.

“And you’re tired of the cold weather, aren’t you?” she asked perceptively. His expression was boyish when he bobbed his head up and down.

“I’m always freezing,” he admitted.

Unconsciously, her brow furrowed. He wasn’t thinking of a romantic liaison. He only wanted a family vacation.

“Let me think about it.”

His luminous eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t take too long because I have to make arrangements for the flight.”

Sure you do, Parris thought. If she had given him an affirmative Martin would have her racing to the airport within the hour. She remembered when she only had time to pick up her passport before they rushed to the airport for their flight. He hadn’t even allowed her time to pack her clothes.

Passport! She gasped audibly. “I don’t have a passport for Regina.”

“That’s not a problem. I’ll get her through customs,” Martin replied.

“But what if you can’t?”

“Then we’ll go to Puerto Rico.” Leaning over, he kissed her cheek. “You worry too much. Good night.”

Her fingers grazed her face where his warm mouth had touched. It was only the second time in two weeks that he showed any affection, and both times it was the feathery pressure of his mouth on her cheek.

“Good night,” she said softly, watching him leave.

* * *

Parris felt the warmth of the Caribbean sun caress her face through the window of the small private jet. She glanced over to her left when the strength of a large hand enveloped hers.

“How are you?”

She managed a warm smile for Martin. “Good.”

The pilot’s voice penetrated the incessant roar of the aircraft’s engine. “We’re approaching the Kingston airport. Please prepare for the descent and landing.”

Martin squeezed her fingers briefly, then moved across the aisle to wake Regina while Parris turned to gaze down at the rapidly approaching patch of verdant lushness surrounded by the bright green waters of the Caribbean.

She was transfixed by the stretch of beaches covered by pristine white sand and the tall palm trees. A feeling of quiet solitude swept over her. The sight of the palm trees evoked poignant memories of Florida.

The jet landed smoothly on a private strip of runway, and within minutes the baggage was unloaded. They found themselves whisked through customs and spared the customary search reserved for all arrivals on the island.

Martin exchanged words with a slight, dark-skinned Jamaican. The man’s casual white shirt and trousers were a startling contrast against his rich, dark complexion. It was apparent he had been waiting for Martin as he directed them out of the noisy airport crowded with tourists arriving for the start of the peak season.

The sights, smells and the sounds of Jamaica paled when they were led to the black sedan Martin had used when he first brought her to the island. Standing beside the sedan was a tall, slender man.

At first glance, there was something about the man that reminded Parris of Martin. But as she neared him she realized the only characteristic they shared was equal height. Whereas Martin was dark, this man was fairer under his extraordinary tan. His close-cut hair was so blond it appeared platinum. His eyes
were a strange shade of pale green, which at first appeared nearly transparent.

It was difficult to determine his age, yet he possessed an ominous quality she had never encountered in anyone she had ever met; not even in her abductor. If she thought of Martin as dark and dangerous, this man was lean and lethal.

Martin and the man embraced warmly. Martin turned, smiling. “Joshua, this is Parris Simmons and her daughter, Regina. Parris, Joshua Kirkland.”

Parris found her hand enveloped in a firm grip as she mumbled a greeting. Joshua smiled, if a parting of his lips could be called a smile, Parris thought.

“Welcome to Jamaica, Parris.” His voice soft and controlled and his pale eyes never left her face. “I find Jamaica to be the most sensuous, enticing island in the Caribbean, and I hope you’ll enjoy your stay. I extend to you the enchanting hospitality the island is known for.”

Martin pulled Regina from Parris. Joshua hunkered down to Regina’s level and extended his hand. The child gave the hand a long quizzical look before she took it.

Joshua’s gaze softened as he examined the young girl who looked so much like her father. “Nice to you meet you, Regina. How would you like to get out of those heavy pants and into a swimsuit to splash in the ocean,” he suggested.

Regina’s wariness vanished quickly. “Can I really swim in the ocean?”

Joshua straightened and led her to the vintage Mercedes Benz. “The ocean is only several hundred feet from the house where you’ll be staying. Let’s see how fast I can drive to get you there.” Regina scrambled willingly into the seat beside Joshua.

“I’m ready, Mr. Kirkland.”

Parris and Martin smiled as they too settled back in the spacious interior of the old car. Martin reached out and held her hand. He relaxed when she didn’t pull her hand away. They were silent throughout the trip which took them west through the
historic community of Spanish Town, each lost in past memories of their trip ten years ago.

Parris found Joshua less forbidding, and then charming, as he related stories about the history of the island to Regina. He would insert a bit of mythical folklore, when appropriate, keeping her and Regina deeply engrossed in his strangely-accented phrases. Parris finally concluded his speech was truly accent-free, but it was his inflection which gave rise to the foreign-sounding intonations.

Martin was snoring lightly as they neared Ocho Rios, and Joshua explained to Regina that the word was not Spanish for
“eight rivers,”
but a bungling of
“chorreras,”
a word meaning spout or waterfall which applied to an entire coastline where a series of rivers or waterfalls flowed from the mountains onto limestone rocks to form spectacular cascades. He assured Regina that her father would take her around the island to show her the more beautiful and famous haunts of the many of the past and present celebrities who had made Jamaica their home.

Joshua stopped in front of his house and Regina stared out of the window in awe. Her mouth formed a perfect O. Joshua helped her out of the car while Parris shook Martin gently to wake him.

His eyes opened slowly, and for a few seconds he stared at her from under half-lowered lids. His gaze said everything and she registered his private message before glancing away. The realization struck her with the force of the rushing waters of the waterfalls they had passed on the northward journey. Martin was special. He had been from the first time she saw him, and she found herself a prisoner to the memories and of her own emotions. She wanted and needed Martin the way a woman needed and wanted a man.

Martin helped Parris from the car, his arm circling her waist and pulling her to his body. She swayed slightly and he steadied her. He lowered his head to kiss her, then he pulled back. The impulse to kiss her had been so strong it left him shaking. Dropping his arm, he turned away.

Parris stared at Martin, unaware that Joshua was staring at her. His pale eyes lingered briefly on her face before they caught fire when an utterly beautiful young woman came out of the house.

The slender woman was of medium height with large dark slanting eyes set in a flawless tawny-brown face. Black shiny curls framed her face, flowing to her shoulders. Her full mouth and high cheekbones only enhanced her delicate, exotic beauty. A simple white cotton dress with a full skirt made her look delicate and innocent.

The woman spied Martin and smiled. She closed the distance between them and threw her arms around his neck. Martin picked her up, kissing her cheek.

“Sable, you get more beautiful every time I see you. If Joshua and I weren’t so close I’d attempt to steal you from him,” he teased.

Sable clucked her tongue and kissed Martin soundly on the mouth. “I would never leave my Joshua. Not for all the money in the world, Martin.” Her lilting accent made his name sound like Mar-tine.

Joshua stared over Sable’s head at Martin. “Would you be willing to give up Parris for Sable, my friend?”

Martin’s dark eyes blazed into Joshua’s challenging gaze. He released Sable, pushing her gently toward Joshua.
“Never, my friend.”

There was a moment of strained silence before Regina tugged impatiently at Joshua’s arm to get his attention. “Mr. Kirkland, can I go swimming now?”

Joshua gave her a warm look. “You can if you stop calling me Mister Kirkland and call me Uncle Josh.”

Regina looked at her mother for approval while Parris glanced over at a frowning Martin. He nodded and Joshua led Regina toward the house.

Parris turned to Sable, extending her hand. “Men sometimes forget their manners. I’m Parris Simmons.”

Sable gave the taller woman a dazzling smile. She shook the proffered hand. “I’m Sable St. Clair. Welcome to Jamaica. Come
into the house out of the heat. I’ll show you which room you’ll have during your stay.”

Parris followed Sable into the house, leaving Martin to unload the luggage from the car. The room chosen for her was the same one she had occupied with Martin during their first trip to the island.

Sable busied herself closing shutters to block out the heat from the sun when Martin entered, carrying several bags under his arms. She fluttered around the room like a delicate moth and within seconds she was gone, the door closing behind her.

Perspiration plastered Martin’s shirt to his chest and back and Parris felt her mouth go dry as he unbuttoned it. It seemed like minutes even though it had only been several seconds by the time he shrugged out of his shirt and dropped it to the floor. She stared mutely at the thick mat of black curling hair on his chest.

“Which side of the bed do you want?” he asked smoothly.