A very large shadow, attached to a very large man, separated from a terraced wall across from Tal’s suite and came to stand in front of him. Ray Ban aviators hid his eyes.
Sweat that had begun to cool on Tal’s skin, re-emerged. He smiled, hoping this guy was on his side. “You’re Samson’s cousin?”
A grin split the face of the giant. “Your wife’s okay. She’s in there with my sister. The massage is almost over. I’m going back to watch the football match on the telly.” He waved and walked away.
A Mozart concerto played softly when Tal entered the room. Then his gaze was drawn to Glory and he dropped his hat. She was face down on a massage table set in the deep shade of their veranda, her arms stretched in front of her and her face turned toward the water. The only thing covering her was a small towel that went from her waist to the tops of her thighs. The masseuse had her back to him and worked some oil into Glory’s calves. Some of that same oil produced a sheen on her ribcage, which, along with her breasts was pressed into a towel.
Tal wanted her in that moment with an intensity he’d never known. And he recognized, without surprise, that a physical relationship was only part of what he wanted. He picked up his cap, rolled it into a tight cylinder, and wondered again how he’d gone from a rational, straightforward plan less than a month ago to this hopeless need for an entirely different woman.
Chapter Twenty-One
Glory heard Tal moving around the bathroom. He’d come in toward the end of her massage, making good on his promise to be back in less than two hours.
After her appointment at the Majestic, she’d spent time filling in her notes, then her mind slid to pondering their relationship. What had started as a strange business arrangement had evolved into, what? They were certainly friends and a physical attraction existed on both sides, she was sure of that. But there was more, and it scared her. She was falling in love and it was all wrong.
Among the obvious wrongs; too soon after Ethan, another office romance, and most of all, it was not real. Fake date at the Sorrento, fake boyfriend shopping, fake honeymoon. All combined to give the impression the feelings were real, but they weren’t. Real love in three weeks? Not hardly. Oh, and he still hadn’t said anything about abandoning his pursuit of Alyssia. The whipped cream on top of the fake sundae.
What if he brought up Alyssia? Claimed he changed his mind about her? Well, that could just mean he’d come to his senses. All in all, Catherine was probably right. She just needed an up close and personal physical encounter.
Right, Einstein. Go to bed with the man you’re crazy about, fake or not. A surefire, direct route to second thoughts and self-recrimination. On top of which, with this particular man, you’d probably end up leaving another perfectly good job. Just stick to the original deal for $2,000. It’ll all be over in a week.
Having made up her mind to take the money and run, Glory opened her door to a short, chunky islander, who identified herself as the masseuse. She was followed by a very large man pushing the portable bed. He wore dark sunglasses, glanced around the suite, and left without speaking.
• •
Tal walked into the bedroom and every female mating instinct Glory had shifted into high gear. He had managed, in less than a full day, to acquire a faint bronze kiss of color that she knew would be warm to the touch. His damp hair was finger combed and already falling forward in a messy little boy curl.
She reached for the memory of Ethan politely telling her maybe they should re-think their engagement, i.e., dumping her. It worked. She smiled what she hoped was a “we’re just friends,” smile. “How’d your hunch go?”
Tal was slow to answer and she searched his face to see if she could discern anything wrong. His gaze seemed to wrap around her intimately, but his response was ordinary. “I think I made some headway. Want to go on a mountain bike ride tomorrow?”
The mild buzzing in her ears receded and Glory broke direct eye contact. “Sounds good. Is the ride related to the headway?”
“Yes. I’ll fill you in at dinner. Did you enjoy the massage?”
Glory closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m putting the masseuse in my will.” Then she realized how much of her Tal had seen when he returned and felt heat creep up her neck. She opened her eyes and saw the intense gaze again. “Uh, you shouldn’t miss out. Maybe schedule one for after the bike ride.”
He nodded, crossed to the little desk and started looking through the island directory. “I’ll do that. Thought we’d go into St. John’s for dinner. Anything special you want?”
The million dollar question. What did she want? “Nothing special,” she managed. “I ordered dinner last night, so you choose.”
On that note, she stood and tightened the belt on the short cotton wrap the masseuse had given her, aware of the amount of bare skin it revealed. “Be ready in a half hour,” she said, grabbing her carry-on and making a dash for the bathroom.
• •
She and Tal walked the path to the lobby in companionable silence, like they’d shared the same mood often. Tal had dressed in a blue-green pigment-dyed shirt and light chinos. Glory was glad she’d brought a flowered broomstick skirt and eyelet camisole at the last minute.
They’d almost cleared the steps to the parking lot when Samson appeared around a clump of bougainvillea, camera in hand. He smiled upon spotting them. “You look very nice. Would you mind posing in front of the flowers? It’ll take only a moment.”
Glory turned to Tal, her finger and thumb a quarter of an inch apart. “We were that close.”
Tal laughed. “Let’s get it over with.”
Her stomach dropped. Another kiss. How could she be expected to keep her hands to herself?
Tal didn’t take her in his arms. He leaned close and tilted her head up with the knuckle of his forefinger. “Ms. Danvers,” he murmured, before brushing her lips lightly with his.
Well, damn. It was over before she could work up a decent mental defense. And why had they both assumed Samson wanted them to kiss? He’d only asked them to pose.
When she opened her eyes, not only was she disappointed at the chasteness of the kiss, but also from the look on Tal’s face. She could swear he’d intended to leave her wanting. Or keep his distance for his own reasons. Hopefully, it was to keep his distance.
“Got it,” said Samson. “Thank you.”
Tal nodded and steered her toward the Jeep. “We have some time before our reservation. Thought you might like to do some shopping in St. John’s.”
“Window shopping for me,” she said.
Five minutes later, they parked on a side street and walked to the Redcliffe Quay. The shops and restaurants ranged from sidewalk vendors to expensive storefronts. All geared toward tourists.
Glory stopped at a jewelry store window. The pieces were exquisite. She was drawn to a polished black coral collar with tiny gold beads cascading down the front in different lengths.
“Pretty,” Tal said behind her.
“Gorgeous, but totally impractical.” She pointed at a selection of delicately wrought gold earrings. “Any of those would certainly turn Alyssia’s head.”
“Kind of personal,” he said quietly.
Glory kept her face to the window and her tone light. “Not if you intend to marry her.”
Tal turned away without responding.
She didn’t want to push him, so she walked to a vendor’s cart full of gaudy pins and earrings.
“How about this?” Tal said, holding up a green plastic palm tree pin with a cluster of three yellow stones intended as coconuts.
The idea of Alyssia wearing that on anything made Glory laugh. “Not even if you paid for the disguise she would have to wear to be seen in it.”
Tal feigned injured pride. “I think it says something.”
“Yes,” Glory said. “You forgot your glasses.”
“Would you like it?”
“Absolutely,” she declared, then became aware she was no longer certain they were still ta
lking about the pin. She hurried on as he made the purchase. “I’ll wear it the next time they’re giving away kittens in front of the grocery store. No one would dream of entrusting a helpless animal to someone wearing a tree.”
Tal made a production of pinning the plastic tree on her camisole strap. It stopped being funny when his fingers brushed the top of her breast.
“There,” he said, stepping back and stuffing the offending hand in his pocket, “a memorable souvenir.”
Emotional confusion tightened her vocal chords. “Thanks,” came out in a half swallow.
No more personal topics were mentioned as they strolled the rest of the quay.
The Redcliffe Tavern was a nice surprise. It occupied the second floor of a colonial era brick and stone warehouse. Tal had reserved a table on the terrace that had privacy and a view of the water through the treetops.
Glory ordered a pineapple daiquiri and a Creole lobster dish. Tal asked for crab pasta and German beer.
He sighed after the first sip of the cold brew. “This is nice.”
Glory looked around. “So far I’ve flown first class, stayed in an expensive suite, gone snorkeling in the Caribbean, researched a blog piece, and had fabulous food and a massage. All paid for by you. I’m beginning to feel guilty.”
Tal’s mouth quirked. “You forgot the tree.”
She pulled in her chin, glancing down. “There is that.”
He leaned toward her. “Don’t feel guilty. The newlywed thing is a great cover. If O’Mara is involved and thinks I’m here to find out what’s going on, he has to take some action in a hurry and that means he might slip up.”
The tables surrounding them were still empty. Tal took another sip of beer and told her what he’d discovered by following the purchasing manager.
“It’s all speculation, but I think there’s a small operation or at least a storage building of some kind hidden away. The airport here is an international hub. Easy to fly goods or supplies in, or directly to, another large city. That makes me nervous.”
Glory swallowed, his nervousness rubbing off on her. Her concern, however, was of a far more personal nature. Tal’s safety. “How does this bike trip figure in?”
“We rent a couple of mountain bikes and throw them in the back of the Jeep. Then we drive to a spot near the turnoff O’Mara used. I’ll bike down the road and check out who or whatever’s there.”
Gooseflesh crawled up her arms. All her speculations as to whether Tal would be taking any real risks came home to roost. “That sounds like it could be dangerous. What if you find an operation and O’Mara’s there? If he thinks you’re a threat to his income, then what?”
Tal shook his head. “He thinks he’s got the advantage because somebody warned him and because I was stupid enough to give my real name. The way he dismissed me this morning showed he didn’t think much of me as a threat. I was careful when I followed him, too.”
Glory fingered the stem of her glass, the cold drink sitting hard in her stomach. Tal had a couple of good points, and he wouldn’t be stupid tomorrow, she knew that much. She released a sigh of acceptance, but wanted clarification on one more thing. “Don’t you mean we bike down the road?”
He hesitated before answering, the green in his hazel eyes dominant, reflecting the color of his shirt. “It would be smarter for me to go in and you keep watch. I can play tourist looking for a toilet if anyone’s there. If by chance O’Mara is there,” he held up two hands, “I’ll improvise. Do my best surprised act. ‘Oh, hi. Small world.’ Then leave.”
Tal leaned back. “The whole thing shouldn’t take more than five or ten minutes.”
Glory was not convinced it would be that easy. But hey, what did she expect? That they would drive by a building in St John’s with signage that said Bootleggers within. Currently counterfeiting Kingston Limited products.
She took a deep breath, knowing he was probably right. So, why did she still want to convince him not to go alone? “Wouldn’t it look more innocent if we biked down the road together?”
“It might,” he said. “However, if by some slim chance, something goes wrong, it’s crucial you’re there to go for help.”
Oh, crap.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tal saw Glory’s face lose color and her expression of alarm as her eyes widened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like an international spy mission. Odds are, tomorrow being Sunday, we won’t run into anyone at all. If you want to bail, I’m okay with it.”
Her shoulders relaxed even though she didn’t look a hundred percent certain. “No. You’re right. Besides, I pushed you into bringing me along to help. I’m in. What time are we leaving?”
“The rental place doesn’t open until noon on Sundays. We can sleep in or do whatever you want in the morning.”
Glory gave him a soft, funny look that sent blood rushing to one particular extremity. Geez, his feelings for her seemed to change everything he said into a blatant invitation. Had she always looked like that or did he want to skip dinner and have his wild way with her because he’d finally noticed?
“There are a couple of things I’d like to do,” she said. “How about you?”
“Not really. Guess I’d prefer something less touristy.”
“Sold,” she said as the waiter brought their food.
Tal commented on the presentation. “Looks appetizing.”
Glory nodded, dipped her fork into the steaming sauce and speared a chunk of lobster. She blew on it then slipped it in her mouth. “Mmmm, good choice. Yours?”
He dutifully tasted and approved his pasta then took a long pull on his cold beer. “What are the other things you’d like to do?”
She smiled dreamily. “When I was here last, there was a resort I wanted to visit called the Curtain Bluff, but I never made it. It’s on a point of land on the southern coast where the deep blue of the Atlantic and teal green of the Caribbean Seas converge. The view is supposed to be amazing.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds touristy and stuffy.”
She shot right back. “They have a handball court.”
“You play handball?” He was delighted.
Glory looked confused. “No. I never learned. You told me you and Nate Johnsen played …?”
Now he felt stupid. Of course, he’d told her and she had been teasing him. He scrunched up his face. “Got me. The Curtain Bluff it is. Where else?”
She swallowed another bite. “Ever heard of the Megaliths of Greencastle Hill?”
“Real Megaliths?”
Her pretty blue eyes shone with eagerness. “The theory is the early islanders, the Arawak, used them as a seasonal calendar and in worship of the sun god and moon goddess. Others claim they’re natural formations. They could be both. Anyway, I hear it’s a stiff hike to get there, so if you’d rather pass?”
“No, we’ll have time for both.”
She smiled as if he’d given her diamonds instead of agreeing to take her to a couple of scenic spots. “Going to put them in your blog?”
Glory lay down her fork. “I hadn’t planned to, but the megaliths would be an interesting sidebar for the more adventurous tourist. Now, I really do feel selfish. I know you offered, but isn’t there something else you’d like to do?”
Tal concentrated on his pasta, but managed to let his gaze sweep over the tiny buttons of the white top she was wearing. He had a fantasy moment that involved Glory and the big bed in their suite.
“Tal?” She looked at him expectantly.
He shifted in his chair. “Nope. Your ideas are fine.”
A steel drum band started somewhere below. The cheerful rhythms made the restaurant patrons smile.
“You said dinner and maybe dancing,” Glory prompted.
It hadn’t occurred to him the dancing might involve something other than the only dance he knew, the basic two-step.
Glory started laughing in earnest. “You should see your face. I promise not to hold you to the dancing part.”
“Can’t have that,” she teased. “How about a walk on the beach instead? Then back to the room to turn in early? Today has worn me out.”
“Deal.” Or I could walk into the ocean as a means to save me from myself. And how many times was he tempted to do that?
• •
They drove to Deux and took the short path down to the water. Glory slipped out of her sandals and headed for the damp sand.
Tal followed. “You’re a born tourist.”
She made a small pirouette. “I love to travel. It’s hard sometimes to convey the feeling to my readers, though. Most places are more than tourist traps. There’s a whole remarkable history right here in Antigua that’s put its stamp on the land. Everything from the original Carib peoples to the British settlements and sugar plantations. Weaving it all together in print is exciting.”
He sensed her passion. A tender smile on her face that he’d never seen before. He wanted to stay in her small, warm orbit, but chose a safer path. “I’ve been to some places you’d like. Miles of nothing and no one but small niches of fishing villages or cacao growers surviving from season to season. Some of my best supplier finds have been in wild and nearly unreachable territory.”
Glory laced her fingers and stretched. “That sounds heavenly. Or I could easily become a beach bum right here. They claim Antigua has a beach for every day of the year, three-hundred-sixty-five of them.”
Tal could think of lots worse things than nights under tropical stars with Glory. He stopped walking. “Reality check. What about your friends and family, your goals?”
That seemed to sadden her. The light that had shone in her eyes faded. “My mother’s gone. Dad fell apart, then withdrew almost completely in order to deal with it. He stays in touch, but I remind him so much of her he stays away.
“Friends drift in and out with the changes in their lives. I’ve decided the best thing is to go forward for myself and stick to what I love to do. No ties, no heartaches.” She shook her head. “Sounds serious and lonely, doesn’t it? How about you? All your goals still in place despite our side trip?”
Chasing Glory Page 15