She swung her legs off the bed and stood up, stilling for a moment so that the sudden dizziness passed. She turned to make up the bed and frowned. There was a stain on the bottom sheet. It looked like dried blood. Well, so much for the certainty that her period wasn't due for another two weeks, she thought. Probably all the excitement had brought it on sooner. She went into the bathroom, wondering what she was going to do for the necessary equipment in a house full of men.
But she wasn't having her period. That would mean some spotting had occurred and that frightened her because it wasn't natural. She'd always been regular. She'd have to see a doctor when she got home, she supposed.
She bathed and frowned when she was standing in front of the mirror. There were some very bad bruises on her hip and thigh, and that was when she remembered the terror of the night before. Half asleep, she hadn't really been thinking until she saw the bruises and it began to come back. A man, Lopez's man, had tried to kidnap her. She'd actually knocked him out with a shovel. She smiled as she remembered it. Sadly she'd been less brave when Micah came running out to see about her. He'd carried her in here and given her a sedative. She hoped she hadn't said anything revealing to him. Sedatives made her very uninhibited. But she had no memory past the shot. That might, she concluded, be a good thing.
Dressed in a pink Bermuda shorts set that she'd bought on her shopping trip in Nassau, she put her feet into a new pair of sneakers. Unlike the sandals she couldn't wear, the sneakers were a perfect fit.
She walked back into the bedroom worriedly, wondering what Micah had done with Lopez's men. It seemed very quiet this morning. She was certain Micah had all sorts of surveillance systems set up to make sure Lopez couldn't sneak anybody else in here to make another attempt at kidnapping her. But she felt uneasy, just the same. Lopez would never stop. She knew that she was still in the same danger she'd been in when she first arrived here with Micah.
She felt as if she had a hangover, probably because of that sedative Micah gave her. That explained the erotic dream as well. She blushed, remembering what an erotic dream if was, too. She brushed her hair, not bothering with makeup, and went down the hall to the kitchen to see if coffee was available.
Bojo was helping himself to a cup. He grinned as she came into the room. "You slept very late."
"I was very tired. Besides, Micah drugged me. That's the second time he's given me a sedative since I've been here. I'm not used to them." She laughed as she took the fresh cup of coffee Bojo handed her. "It's a good thing I fell asleep right away, too, because sedatives generally have a very odd effect on me. I get totally swept away. Where is everybody?" she added, noting that Bojo was the only person in the house.
"Micah has gone to Nassau on business," he told her with a grin. "Lopez seems to have vanished in the night. Not only Lopez, but his very expensive yacht and several of his men. The authorities are justifiably curious."
"Lopez has gone?" she asked, excited. "You mean, he's gone away?"
"Very far away," he said with a grin.
"But he'll just come back." He gave her a wry look and she frowned. "Don't you still have his two henchmen? Micah was going to give those two men to the police," she reminded him. "Maybe they know where he is."
"They were handed over to the police," he agreed. "But they don't know where Lopez is, either."
"You look smug," she accused.
He smiled. "I am. I do know where Lopez is. And I can promise you that he won't be making any more raids on this island."
"Great!" she exclaimed, relieved. "Can you hand him over to the police, too?"
"Lopez can't be handed over." He paused to think. "Well, not in one piece, at least," he added.
"You're sounding very strange," she pointed out.
He poured his own cup of coffee and sat back down at the table. "Lopez's yacht went up in flames last night," he said matter-of-factly. "I am amazed that you didn't hear the explosion. It must have been a fault in the engine, or a gas leak," he added, without meeting her eyes. He shook his head. "A very nasty explosion. What was left of the yacht sank within sight of here."
"His boat sank? He was on it? You're sure? Did you see it go down?" she asked, relieved and horrified at the same time.
"Yes, yes, and yes." He studied her. "Lopez will never threaten you or Micah's father again. You will be able to return home now, to your job and your stepfather. I shall miss you."
"I'll miss you, too, Bojo," she said, but her mind was racing ahead. Lopez was dead. She was out of danger. She could go home. She had to go home, she amended. She would never see Micah again...
Bojo was watching the expressions chase themselves across her face. She was vulnerable, and besides that, she was in love with Micah. It didn't take much guesswork to figure that out, or to make sense of Micah's strange attitude about her. Obviously the boss knew she was in love with him, and he was trying to be kind while making his position to her clear.
He grimaced. The musical tones of his cell phone interrupted his gloomy thoughts. He answered it quickly.
"Yes," he said, glancing warily at Callie. "She's here, having coffee. I'll ask her." He lifted both eyebrows. "Micah is having lunch with Lisse on the bay in Nassau. If you want to join them, I can take you over in the small boat."
Lisse. Why should she think anything had changed? she wondered. Lisse was beautiful and Mi-cah had told her at the beginning that he and Lisse were lovers. They'd been together for a long time, and she was important in the Bahamas as well as being beautiful. A few teasing kisses for Callie meant nothing to him. She'd been a complete fool. Micah had been kind to her to get her to stay and bait Lopez. That was all it had been. It was an effort to smile, but she did.
"Tell him thanks, but I've got to start packing. If Lopez is really out of the way, I have to go home. Mr. Kemp won't keep my job open forever."
Bojo looked really worried. "Boss, she says she'd rather not." He hesitated, nodded, glanced again at Callie. "Okay. I'll make sure he knows. We'll expect you soon. Yes. Goodbye."
"You look like a bad party," she commented.
"He's bringing Lisse here for lunch," he said reluctantly.
Her heart jumped but she only smiled. "Why not? It's obvious to anybody that he's crazy about her. She's a dish," she added, and then wondered why she should suddenly think about Lisse's bust size when compared to her own.
"She's a cat," Bojo replied tersely. "Don't let her walk on you."
"I never have," she commented. "If we're having lunch, I guess I need to get started fixing it, huh?"
"We have a cook..."
"I'm good," she told him without conceit. "I cook for Dad and me every night. I'm not cordon-bleu, but I get compliments."
"Very well." Bojo gave in, hoping the boss wasn't going to fire him for letting her into the kitchen. "Mac went to Nassau with the boss and the other guys, so it would have been cold cuts anyway."
"I make homemade rolls," she told him with a grin. "And I can bake a pound cake."
She got up, looked through the cupboards and refrigerator, found an apron and got busy. It would give her something to do while her heart was breaking.
Two hours later, Micah and Lisse came into the living room together, laughing. Callie peered out from the kitchen. "Food's on the table if you want to sit down," she called gaily.
Micah gaped at her. He'd told Bojo to get Mac to fix lunch. What was Callie doing in the kitchen?
Bojo came out of it, and Micah's face hardened. "I thought I told you to monitor communications for traffic about Lopez," he said coldly.
Bojo knew what was eating him, so he only smiled. "I am. I was just asking Callie for another pot of coffee. We drank the other, between us," he added deliberately.
Micah's eyes flashed like black lightning, but he didn't say another word as Bojo nodded politely at Lisse and walked back toward the communications room.
"Sit down, Lisse," Micah said quietly, pulling out a chair for her at the dining-room table, already laid with silverware and pla
tes and fresh flowers. "I'll be back in a minute."
"I do hope it's going to be something light," Lisse said airily. "I can't bear a heavy meal in the middle of the day."
Micah didn't answer her. He'd run into Lisse in town and she'd finagled him into lunch. He'd compromised by bringing her here, so that he could see how Callie was feeling after the night before. He was hoping against hope that she remembered what had happened. But the instant she looked at him, he knew she hadn't.
"Hi," she said brightly and with a forced smile. "I slept like two logs. I hope you've got an appetite. I made homemade bread and cake, and steak and salad."
"Lisse will probably only want the salad," he murmured. "But I love cake."
"I remember. Go sit down. I'll bring it."
"You only set two places," he said quietly.
She shrugged. "I'm just cooking it. I wouldn't want to get in the way...Micah!"
While she was talking, he picked her up and carried her out of the kitchen the back way and into the first sprawling bathroom he came to, closing the door behind them.
"You're not the hired help here," he said flatly, staring into her eyes without putting her down. "You don't wait at table. You don't cook. I have a man for that."
"I'm a good cook," she pointed out. "And it's going to get cold if you don't put me down and let me finish."
His eyes dropped to her mouth and lingered there hungrily. "I don't want food." He brought her close and his mouth suddenly went down against hers and twisted ardently, until he forced her lips apart and made her respond to him. He groaned under his breath as her arms reached up to hold him. She made a husky little sound and gave in all at once. It felt so familiar to be held like this, kissed like this. She opened her mouth and felt his tongue go into it. Her body was on fire. She'd never felt such desire. Odd, that her body seemed to have a whole different knowledge of him than her mind did.
He couldn't get enough of her mouth. He devoured it. His powerful arms had a faint tremor when he was finally able to draw back. He looked straight into her eyes, remembering her headlong response the night before, feeling her body yield to him on crisp, white sheets in the darkness. He'd thought of nothing else all day. It was anguish to know that she was totally oblivious to what they'd done together, when the memories were torturing him.
"How long have you been talking to Bojo?" he demanded gruffly.
"Just...just a little while." Her mouth was swollen, but her body was shivering with secret needs.
She looked at the tight line of his lips and impulsively reached up to kiss him. Amazingly he kissed her back with ardent insistence.
"Micah!" Lisse's strident voice came floating down the hall, followed by the staccato sound of high heels on wood.
Micah heard her and lifted his head. His mouth, like Callie's, was swollen. He searched her misty eyes intently.
"It's Lisse," she whispered dazedly.
"Yes." He bent and brushed his lips lazily over her own, smiling as she followed them involuntarily.
"She wants her lunch," she persisted.
"I want you," he murmured against her mouth.
The words shocked. Her fingers, linked behind his nape, loosened and she looked worried. "I can't!" she whispered huskily.
"Why can't you?"
"Because I've never..." she began.
Until last night. He almost said it. He thought it. His face hardened as he forced his tongue to be silent. He couldn't tell her. He wanted to. But it was too soon. He had to show her that it wasn't a one-night thing with him. Even more important, he had to convince himself that he could change enough, settle down enough, to give her some security and stability. He knew that he could have made her pregnant. Oddly it didn't worry him. The thought of a child was magical, somehow. He didn't know much about children, except that he was certain he'd love his own. Callie would make a wonderful mother.
He smiled as he bent and kissed her eyelids shut. "Wouldn't you?" he whispered. "If I insisted?"
"I'd hate you," she bit off, knowing that she wouldn't. She loved him endlessly.
"Yes, you might," he said after a minute. "And that's the last thing I want."
"Micah!" Lisse's voice came again, from even farther down the hall.
"Sit. Stay," Callie whispered impishly.
He bit her lower lip and growled deep in his throat. "She insisted on lunch. I compromised. Kiss me again." His mouth drifted lazily over hers.
She did kiss him, because she had no willpower when it came to this. She loved being in his arms, being held by him. She loved him!
After a minute he lifted his head and put her down, with obvious reluctance. "We'd better go before she starts opening doors," he said in a husky tone.
"Would she?" she asked, curious.
"She has before," he confessed with a wry grin. He brushed back her hair with exquisite tenderness. His eyes held an expression she'd never seen in them. "You look like I've been making love to you," he whispered with a faint smile. "Better fix your face before you come out."
She reached up and touched his swollen mouth with wonder. She was still trying to make herself believe that he'd dragged her in here and kissed her so hungrily. There was something in the back of her mind, something disturbing. She couldn't grasp it. But the most amazing thing was the tenderness he was showing her. It made her breathless.
His lean hand spread against her cheek. His thumb parted her lips as he bent again, as if he couldn't help himself. He kissed her softly, savoring the trembling response of her lips.
"Micah!" Lisse was outside, almost screeching now.
He lifted his head again with a long sigh. "I need to take you out in the boat and drop anchor five miles out," he said heavily. He tapped her nose. "Okay, let's go see if everything's cold before Lisse loses her voice."
He opened the door, checking to see if the coast was clear. "Fix your face," he whispered with a wicked grin and closed the door behind him.
She heard his footsteps moving toward the dining room. Two minutes later, staccato heels made an angry sound passing the bathroom door.
"Micah...!"
"I'm in the dining room, Lisse! Where were you? I've been looking everywhere!"
He was good at improvising, Callie thought as she repaired the damage to her face. She combed her hair with a comb from a tray on the vanity table and wondered at the change in her relationship with Micah. He was very different. He acted as if she'd become suddenly important to him, and not in a conventional way. She couldn't help smiling. It was as if her whole life had changed.
She went back into the kitchen and put everything on the table, after checking that the steak had kept warm on the back of the stove. It had.
Micah got up and set a third place at the table, giving Callie a deliberate look. "You eat in here with us," he said firmly, ignoring Lisse's glare.
"Okay." She put out the last of the food, and butter for the rolls, and sat down. "Micah, will you say grace?" she added.
"Grace?" Lisse's beautiful face widened into shock.
Micah flashed her a disapproving glance and said a brief prayer. He was digging into the food while Lisse, in her gold-trimmed white pantsuit, was still gaping.
"We're very conventional at home," Callie pointed out.
"And traditional," Micah added. "Tradition is important for families."
"But you don't have a family, really, darling," Lisse protested. She helped herself to a couple of forkfuls of salad and a hint of dressing. "Rolls? Thousands of calories, darling, especially with butter!" she told Micah.
"Callie made them for me, from scratch," he said imperturbably. He bit into one and smiled. "These are good," he said.
Callie shrugged. "It's the only thing I do really well. My mother couldn't boil water." That had slipped out and she looked horrified as she met Micah's eyes.
"I think Micah could do very well without hearing about your tramp of a mother, dear," Lisse said haughtily. "He's suffered enough at her hands already. Who wa
s it she threw you over for, darling, that British earl?"
"She didn't throw me over," Micah said through his teeth.
"But she was staying here with you last year...?"
Callie's eyes exploded. She got up, throwing down her napkin. "Is that true?" she demanded.
"It is, but not the way you're assuming it is," he said flatly. "Callie, there's something you need to know."
She turned and walked out of the room.
"What the hell was that in aid of?" Micah demanded of Lisse, with real anger.
"You keep secrets, don't you?" she asked with cold delight. "It's dangerous. And she isn't really your sister, either. I got that out of Bojo. You've even slept with her, haven't you, darling?" she added venomously.
Micah threw down his own napkin and got to his feet. "Bojo!" he yelled.
The tall Berber came rushing into the room. His boss never raised his voice!
Micah was almost vibrating with rage. "See Lisse back to Nassau. She won't be coming here again," he added with ice dropping from every syllable.
Lisse put down her fork and wiped her mouth before she got leisurely to her feet. She gave him a cool look. "You use people," she accused quietly. "It's always what you want, what you need. You manipulate, you control, you...use. I loved you," she added in a husky undertone. "But you didn't care. I was handy and good in bed, and that was what mattered to you. When you didn't want me so much anymore, you threw me out. I was only invited over here this time so that you could show your house-guest that she wasn't the only egg in your basket." She gave him a cold smile. "So how does it feel to be on the receiving end for once, Micah? It's your turn. I wish, I really wish, I could stick around to see the result. She doesn't look like the forgiving sort to me. And I'd know, wouldn't I?"
She turned, leaving Bojo to follow her after a complicated glance in Micah's direction. The boss didn't say a word. Not a single word.
Callie was packing with shaking hands. Micah came to the doorway and leaned against it with his hands in his pockets, watching her glumly.
"Nothing to say?" she asked curtly.
"Nothing you'd listen to," he replied. He shrugged. "Lisse just put me in my place. I didn't realize it, but she's right. I do use people. Only I never meant to use you, in any way."
Books By Diana Palmer Page 289