Garden of the Moongate

by Donna Vitek

  She sensed him watching as she secured the tie belt around her waist. When she looked up, he rose to his feet and walked slowly toward her. "Stop backing away," he commanded softly. "I was just going to help you roll up the sleeves."

  "I didn't realize I was backing away," she murmured weakly, her cheeks warming with enchanting color as he rolled the sleeves up into thick, bulky cuffs around her delicate wrists. But as his hands then began to slide up her arms she sidestepped him agilely and headed for the galley. "You're hungry; I know you are," she babbled. "I noticed two steaks in the freezer earlier, and it would only take a minute to defrost them in this microwave. How about it? Would you like steak for dinner?"

  "I'm not sure. Can you cook?"

  "Well, of course I can!" she declared, spinning around to face him. He shrugged, and despite the distance between them, she could easily detect the laughter in his eyes. Realizing he was merely baiting her again, she wrinkled her nose at him and, turning, proceeded to unwrap two rock-hard steaks.

  Two hours later, after dinner had been eaten and the dishes had been washed, the storm still hadn't abated and gave no indication that it would anytime soon.

  "That tropical depression west of us must have suddenly veered this way," Ric explained after taking a cautious sip of steaming coffee. As he lounged back against the tweed-covered cushions of the forward single berth that doubled as a daytime sofa he watched her face over the rim of his mug. "It's nearly six o'clock, Allie. Even if the storm were to end right now, I don't think we'd make it back to St. George's Harbor before dark. And, when I can, I avoid sailing after night falls. So I've decided we should stay put tonight and head back tomorrow morning."

  Allendre's fingers curled around the damp cloth with which she was wiping the table, and as her eyes darted up to meet his she froze. "You… I…" She squelched her instinctive protest. She had to trust him to know what he was doing. If it wasn't safe to return to the harbor tonight, then she had no desire to try. And since the wind was still whistling between the pinnacles of the reef wall that towered above them, she wasn't foolhardy enough to think they should risk taking to open sea again. Still, it was more than a little disturbing to imagine spending the entire night with him in this small space, and she swallowed with difficulty as the sudden unbidden image of that double bed in the private cabin popped into her head. Yet, knowing she really had no choice, she finally nodded. "Okay," she agreed, embarrassed by the squeakiness of her voice. "If you think that's best."

  "I think it's the only really sensible choice we can make," he said flatly, something almost like impatience hardening his features as she sat down on the berth beside him, but as close to the opposite edge as she could get without falling off.

  Though they made polite conversation for the next three hours, there was a nearly tangible tension between them that Allendre blamed herself for. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't relax, and he obviously sensed her nervousness and didn't appreciate it. Finally, around eight-thirty, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging free between them. "It's been a long day. I suggest we have showers and get some sleep. Then we can get an early start in the morning."

  Allendre gestured uncertainly. Despite her tension, she didn't really want the evening to end so anticlimactically. But since she couldn't explain her ambiguous emotions even to herself, she rose to her feet. The bikini strap around her neck chafed her skin, as it had been doing increasingly all evening. Maybe a shower would make her feel more comfortable, at least physically.

  "I guess I am tired," she agreed, then was dismayed when he only inclined his head slightly in answer. Not eager to see those blue eyes gray again, she averted her gaze, picked up her raspberry cover-up, and headed to the bathroom without risking another word.

  As she stood before the oval mirror above the lavatory a moment later and removed Ric's robe and her bikini bra, she gasped with surprise when she saw why her strap had been chafing her skin. She had acquired a sunburn that neither she nor Ric had noticed in the dim cabin light. She had never suspected that that could be the cause of the irritation. Even now, she couldn't imagine how she had managed to get sunburned, since she had smoothed sunscreen all over after their swim. When she opened the medicine cabinet, however, she understood. What she had assumed was sunscreen was in reality only tanning lotion, and she had been too overwrought by the effects of Ric's lovemaking to even notice the bottle's label.

  "Well, terrific," she told her reflection. "Now, he's annoyed at you, and you look like a boiled lobster, besides." Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, she conceded as she stepped out of her swimsuit and into the shower. She wasn't all that red, more a rosy pink, and at least the color was uniform all over her body— evidently she had turned over while she had been asleep. The cool shower soothed her skin as long as she stood under the fine mist, but when she stepped out to dry herself with a towel, she began to feel a bit raw. Knowing she couldn't bear to tie that bra strap around her neck again, she decided not to wear it, though she realized she would feel very vulnerable and half naked with only the terry cover-up on.

  After combing her hair, she left the bathroom, fidgeting nervously as Ric examined the slender length of legs exposed by the side slits of her long skirt. She pressed herself close to a teak locker across from the bathroom when he joined her in the tiny space. Her eyes widened as his suddenly narrowed and a frown knitted his brow. "What the devil have you done to yourself?" he muttered roughly, tracing one fingertip over the paler lines of skin where her straps had been. "I thought you had sense enough to put on sunscreen before going to sleep on deck."

  "I… I thought I had put some on," she said thickly, hurt by his harsh tone. "But I just found out I'd used tanning lotion instead."

  "Your skin even feels hot," he said softly, pressing the backs of his fingers against her collarbone, then encircling her neck gently with his hand, tilting her chin up with his thumb. "It hurts, doesn't it? But I can help that. We have some aloe cream in the aft cabin. While I take my shower you go on in there and get undressed and under the sheet. When I come out, I'll rub some on your back."

  "You must be kidding!" she gasped, knowing only too well where such insanity would lead. "I… I couldn't do that."

  His jaw tightened. "Allie, stop acting so juvenile. You don't want to spend a sleepless night, do you? My intentions are honorable, I assure you. Now go in there and get undressed and into that bed, or I swear I'll rip that thing you're wearing off you myself. And if you force me to do that, don't hold me responsible for the possible consequences."

  He meant every word. Sensing that, she flounced away, opening the door to the aft cabin, then closing it behind her with a resounding bang. Her hands trembled violently as she removed the shiftlike cover-up; then, clad only in the bikini briefs, she scurried into the bed, pulling the cool sheet and the velvet coverlet up tight around her neck. Every muscle in her tensed when he came into the cabin five minutes later, and she was certain she'd never take a deep breath again when she saw that he wore only the robe she had just discarded. It fit him too well, ending just above his knees and exposing an expanse of his muscular, hair-covered chest. Allendre was sure that she had not imagined a man could look so disturbingly virile.

  Yet he hardly glanced at her as he went to take a jar of cream from a drawer built into the base of the bed. Even when he sat down beside her, his gaze was impersonal, as was his touch when he tugged the sheet and coverlet from her tightly closed hands and lowered them to drape demurely across her breasts. "Turn over," he commanded. After she obeyed, he pulled the covers down to her waist. Cooling cream administered by impersonal hands was absorbed into the skin of her back, then across her feverish shoulders, bringing immediate relief. "Turn back over."

  She obeyed with less hesitation this time, eager for the cream to ease the burning skin of her upper chest, but seeing his hand lower to touch her renewed her awareness of the potential dangers she was risking. Perhaps he felt that awareness,
too, because his touch was no longer so impersonal as his fingers smoothed cream over the tender pink skin stretched taut over her collarbone. When her half-closed eyes met his, his jaw clenched.

  "Kiss me," she whispered, surprising even herself. "Please, Ric."

  "Oh, you little idiot," he groaned, his fingers caressing her throat as he deposited the jar on the table beside the bed. "I'm doing my utmost to control myself, and you have to say something like that."

  As her hands fluttered up to cup his face his self-control snapped. His mouth descended to cover hers violently, exerting a twisting pressure that brought her upward into hard arms that crushed her to him. As his lips devoured hers with hungry urgency his teeth occasionally nipped the tender, bow-shaped flesh, until the kisses they exchanged deepened to become languorous preludes to her total surrender. He lowered her back down onto the soft mattress and dragged the covers down to her waist.

  "God, you're beautiful," he said hoarsely, gazing with darkening eyes at the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. His lips lingered on the smooth curve of her throat; then, as his hand gently cupped the ivory fullness, he whispered, "Allendre," and bent his head.

  The moist roughness of his tongue tasting her skin aroused desires in her so intense she knew she didn't want to resist him. Her fingers tangled tightly in the dark hair on his nape, and she urged his mouth back up to hers, arching against him as he stretched out beside her on the bed. She pushed aside the lapels of his robe, raining evocative kisses over his chest, inhaling the fresh lime scent of his skin.

  "Let me love you," he coaxed, his warm breath tantalizing in her ear. "This time let me really love you."

  Love. Yes, that was what she wanted, because somehow she had begun to fall in love with him. That realization was both pleasure and pain, but both emotions were overridden by her desire to satisfy his needs. When his hands on her hips pressed her against him and she recognized the full power of his passion, she yielded against him. A tremulous sigh signaled her total submission, and though she trembled when his fingers trailed down toward her abdomen, she was prepared to give him whatever he asked. He wanted her, and she wanted him, too, more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.

  Yet values she had lived with for twenty-two years weren't so easily suppressed. Even as she surrendered emotionally, tears filled her eyes, and before she could try to blink them away, they spilled out onto her cheeks.

  Ric lifted his head, his dark gaze piercing hers, but, incredibly he smiled. "I'm hurting you. Forgive me, Allie. I didn't mean to hold you so tightly when every touch must be agony on that tender skin. I'm sorry."

  His words made her feel so horribly guilty, as if she were cheating him somehow. The tears flowed more freely and a soft sob escaped her as he licked one salty drop from her cheek.

  "Don't cry," he whispered comfortingly. "We have plenty of time. But I won't let myself hurt you, Allie, even though I want you almost more than I can bear right now." Brushing a kiss across her forehead, he tucked the sheet around her shoulders, then stood. "I imagine you'll still be sleeping when we get into St. George's Harbor tomorrow. I'll come wake you then."

  Though she nodded, she doubted he would have to wake her. As the cabin door closed behind him she turned her face into the pillow, virtually sure she would never sleep again.

  Chapter Seven

  Until early the next afternoon, Allendre lounged around her room in her coolest, loosest nightgown, giving her sunburned skin time to become less tender before she put on anything more confining. She was tired but attributed her listlessness more to emotional weariness than to anything physical. After Ric had left her in the cabin last night, she had feared she wouldn't sleep, and she hadn't until nearly dawn, when the rain outside had subsided to a slow, steady patter on the water. Finally, exhausted and lulled by the gentle lapping of water against the hull, she had drifted off for a couple of hours. But she had awakened immediately when Ric started the engine to guide the boat out of the bay.

  When she had joined him in the cockpit, he had been oddly quiet, though she had detected nothing in his attitude to indicate he was irritated at her. Actually, she had sensed in him a tender concern that had heightened her feeling of guilt. He still believed her sunburn had caused last night's tears, and she knew she should tell him the truth: that she had cried because she had realized it would never be enough for her to become involved in a casual affair. She would need a much deeper commitment, and she needed to tell him that in no uncertain terms. Then he could find someone else to while away the summer with, and she wouldn't end up getting irreparably hurt. Yet somehow she couldn't bring herself to drive him away completely. She wanted to see him, to be close to him, though she knew she was playing with fire.

  Bedeviled by her conflicting emotions, Allendre only picked at the crab and avocado salad she had ordered from room service. Finally, around two o'clock, she decided it was silly to sit around and brood. She still had a job to do here, and she was simply going to have to find a way to prove or disprove the overcharging allegations. Once that issue was settled, she could return to Chicago, where, if she was lucky, she might begin to put her feelings for Ric Shannon in the proper perspective.

  After putting on a royal-blue cotton jersey dress that was soothingly soft against her skin, Allendre went down to sit in the lobby, as close to the desk as possible. Though she stayed there nearly an hour and four guests checked out, she heard no one even hint that he was being charged an exorbitant amount. Of course, three of the guests didn't even look at their bills, and the fourth gave his only a perfunctory glance. At last, after Loretta cast a couple of curious looks in her direction, Allendre began to feel conspicuous, so she went outside for a walk in the garden.

  It was a hot day. The bright sunshine had already begun to dry the puddles of water created by last night's rain, which had also freshened all the flowers and green foliage so that each petal and leaf shimmered with clear, jewellike color in the afternoon light. A pungent odor of rich earth was raised by a cooling breeze, and the shade provided by towering shrubs and the occasional cedar protected Allendre from the full glare of the sun. She wandered along the winding paths, admiring the myriad flowers and enjoying the silence that was broken only by the rustling leaves and the singing of the birds. When she came upon a secluded arbor, covered with trailing scarlet bougainvillea vines, she sat down on a bench to watch two orioles hopping about in the light ground cover as they searched for food.

  At first she paid little attention to the voices in the distance, but her ears perked up as she heard footfalls along the path coming toward her and recognized Deb's nasal tones.

  "Gerald, can't you just leave me alone for a while?" she was saying with obvious impatience. "I've told you Ric's a little miffed at me for the way I've been running things, so I don't want to make the situation any worse by being seen with you. You didn't make a very good impression on him that day he arrived, and until he leaves I have to try to please him any way I can."

  "And you love every minute of it, don't you? If he asked you to please him by crawling into bed with him, I'm sure you'd be glad to do that, too," Gerald muttered crudely. "I'm not good enough for you now that he's here, am I? Or is it that I'm just not rich enough?"

  As the footsteps ceased abruptly, Allendre looked around, trying to find some way to leave the arbor without being seen. This was a very private conversation, and it made her feel rather uncomfortable to overhear it. Unfortunately, the only escape route was the path, and since that was blocked by the very people she didn't want to see her, she had no choice except to stay where she was. And trying not to listen was futile. Deb's furious response to Gerald was loud enough to raise the dead.

  "Don't you dare talk to me like that again, Gerald Cooley!" she nearly shouted. "After I took you away from mowing the grounds to make you assistant manager, don't take it out on me just because you were too stupid to hold on to the job!"

  "I didn't see you rushing to my defense, Deb, darling," he
retorted sarcastically. "Why not? Were you afraid the mighty Patrick Shannon might guess we're much more than co-workers?"

  "We were more," Deb said emphatically, her voice shrill. "But you knew all along what Ric meant to me, and now that he's here, I can't keep seeing you."

  Gerald snorted. "You've always worshiped him and his money, and I guess you still think he'll eventually see what a prize you are and marry you, don't you? I don't know how you can. You just admitted he's angry with you about the way you've run his precious hotel the past few months."

  "Oh, but that's only business," Deb responded nonchalantly. "He simply doesn't agree with some of my ideas, but that doesn't affect our personal relationship. He's still as fond of me as he ever was."

  "Or does he just use you because you're so willing?" Gerald taunted. "You should see yourself cozying up to him. It's disgusting. And I doubt it'll get you anywhere in the end. Didn't you say once that he's hooked up with some high-society dame in New York?"

  "Oh, I'm sure he isn't serious about her," Deb answered, though she didn't sound completely convinced. "He and I have known each other so much longer, and we've always been so close."

  "Too close, if you ask me! Last night and the night before, when you were supposed to meet me, you were with him, weren't you? You spent both nights with him! Didn't you?"

  "That's none of your business," Deb replied haughtily. "And I have better things to do than to stand here and listen to your ranting and raving. Ric's probably waiting for me in the office right now. I'll talk to you later, Gerald. But let me come to see you. Don't you come chasing after me anymore."

  As the sound of voices grew fainter and the footsteps receded on the path Allendre drew a deep, shuddering breath. Though she knew for a fact that Deb hadn't spent last night with Ric, she had no way of knowing about the night before.