She had the sudden, overwhelming feeling she had missed something beautiful.
Corrie hadn’t realized her eyes had filled with tears until they overflowed and slid down her sunburned cheeks, stinging them. A harsh sob hurt her throat. Instinctively, she knew it was for the loss of a special, fleeting moment she had cruelly denied. With astounding insight, she knew that leaving this island, his island, was something she didn’t want to do.
But she had no choice. He was evicting her, and no doubt the airline ticket with her name on it would be delivered to her motel unit. Well, it wouldn’t be used!
She took a few extra moments to compose herself then, bending slowly, picked up her sunglasses, slipped her shoes on, and walked to the motel.
Chapter 5
Russella burst in through the door. “Good, you’ve already started packing. Isn’t it great? But how did you know? Matt’s only just found out. Oh, Mr. Hendricks must have rang you. I’m so happy, Corrie. It’s all so unexpected and wonderful.”
Corrie waited for Russella to draw breath, for it was blatantly obvious there was a huge misunderstanding. “Rusie!” Corrie’s demand for attention stopped Russella twirling around in delight, her shining face smiling widely. “I think we’re at cross purposes here. Unless you’re thrilled to see the back of me when I leave the island tonight?”
“What on earth are you talking about? We’re not leaving the island, just leaving the motel. Mr. Hendricks has invited us to stay at the house.”
“You’re the one talking nonsense. The only reason I’m packing is because I’ve booked a chartered flight back to Cairns and it leaves at five this evening.”
“But you can’t!” Russella wailed. She dashed across the room and began throwing clothes in every direction out of the suitcase that Corrie had painstakingly, and tearfully, packed. “I won’t let you! You can’t.”
Corrie rushed to her cousin and grabbed her frantic hands, shaking them hard. “Stop this!”
“If you go, I’ll have to go, and I won’t. I can’t leave Matt.”
Corrie gave Russella’s hands another hard shake. “Rusie, you must make your own decisions, but you can’t ask, mustn’t ask, or expect me to stay where I’m not wanted. I have to go.”
“But we’ve been invited to stay at the house. Oh, don’t be silly, Corrie.”
“No, you’re the one being silly. You have misunderstood. Britt Hendricks has told me that he’s buying my airline ticket for tomorrow to make sure I do leave the island. I will not be beholden to him in any way, so he can keep his rotten airline ticket. And his rotten motel. I’m leaving tonight, in my own time, at my own convenience, at my own expense, and that’s at five o’clock this evening.”
She swung around to begin picking up the clothes Russella had thrown from her case. With controlled, tearful anger she flung them into a chaotic heap on the bed. Then she commenced all over again to systematically pack.
“I’m not going with you,” Russella screamed. And when Corrie didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, her cousin accused, “You are selfish and don’t care about anyone being happy as long as you get your own way. You’ve always been like that. You always stop me from having fun and enjoying myself.”
Corrie felt she couldn’t let this go any further without Russella understanding the commitment she was making. She faced her cousin with tears stinging her eyes.
“Is this all this means to you, Rusie, having fun? Don’t you realize Matt’s in love with you? The forever kind of love. Man and woman love, not silly daydream love to be played at. If you can’t return that love and want to stay here forever with him, then it’s you who is being selfish. The decision of you leaving or staying is entirely yours alone. I’m out of here this afternoon.” Corrie turned from her cousin to pick up the wispy, pale mauve dinner dress yet to be worn.
“I hate you!” exploded from behind her, then the door slammed, and Corrie slumped down on the side of the bed.
How many times had she heard that explosive declaration when her advice didn’t meet her willful cousin’s need? But this time it was different. This time it wasn’t some petty upset. This time she could very well leave the island without a loving goodbye from Rusie.
That hurt. It hurt terribly.
* * * *
Showered and dressed, Corrie pulled the brush through her hair before beginning to confine it to the familiar French chignon. A sharp rap sounded at the door, and she looked down at the silver watch on her wrist. It was just a quarter ’til four. The taxi had been ordered for four o’clock to connect with the private launch provided by the charter service.
She looked with exasperation at her hair only half-confined, put the brush down, and stepped from the bathroom to place her hand on the door handle. But something made her hesitate at opening it.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Britt Hendricks.”
Her arms instinctively wrapped around herself in protection as she slumped against the door. Couldn’t the man leave her alone! She took a huge breath. “I really have nothing more to say to you,” she called loudly against the door.
“I have a master key, and I will use it.”
Odious creature! Five o’clock wouldn’t come quick enough. A second sharp knock sounded, and Corrie took that as a warning he was losing patience. With a flourish, she turned the knob and stepped back.
The Nordic god filled the doorway. “I thought you might have put the safety chain on. Wise of you not to.”
“Hardly a deterrent against the owner of the establishment,” she quipped, and belatedly promised herself I will keep cool and calm; I will not let him provoke me.
He stepped into the room, and closing the door, leaned back against it. Then he began to take in his fill of her, indulging himself.
Corrie gritted her teeth, knowing full well exactly what he was doing, but still she couldn’t stop the defiant action of stretching to her full five-feet-seven height. Her toes actually curled in her plaited leather shoes with anticipation of what was to come.
His glittering gaze began at the hems of her slimly tailored cream linen pants, caressing their way up her thighs then on to the gold leather belt at her waist. The rest of the journey Corrie couldn’t bear to think about.
Automatically, her spine stiffened and horror widened her eyes as she read the satisfaction in Britt’s blazing sea-green eyes. Her action had unconsciously pushed her peaked breasts more urgently against the lace of her bra, hiding nothing of their small firmness under the clinging, silk, emerald blouse.
Her breathing quickened, and she felt her throat scorch with heat.
She could almost hear him growling, and her stomach tightened excruciatingly, her gasp echoing around the room. She had no way of discerning whether her gasp was due to indignation, anger, or just good old-fashioned shock. Shock that she could feel her breast swelling even more as his eyes refused to move, adoring what he was seeing.
Then suddenly she was held captive by those alarming, dominate eyes, claiming hers, refusing to even let her blink. She had been looked at before, but never with this blatant blaze of passion with no mistaking what he wanted.
* * * *
Good, Britt thought. Now she knows exactly what I’m feeling and never again will she be able to claim ignorance. He rejoiced in her wide, startled eyes then instantly castigated himself. How could he enjoy her discomfort when he loved her beyond belief?
His thought stopped abruptly. He hadn’t acknowledged that fact before, had he? But now? Yes, he loved her, was in love with her. Always would be. Always had been.
Always had been?
Yes, he had known her before from some time past.
He didn’t know how he knew this, but he didn’t doubt it for one moment. It was carved into his heart; something linked them. He also now realized why he had changed his tune with Matt and Russella. He understood exactly what Matt was experiencing, but it could never be of the intensity and depth to which he had personally been plunged.
Corrie began to tremble, and Britt could see what was happening, but still he couldn’t risk gathering her close to him like he wanted to. She needed time and space, and quite frankly, so did he. God, the way he was feeling at this moment, if he as much as touched her, the whole world would explode. It would be a disaster and end before it began.
Wanting to cover his devastating feelings, his voice became brusque, “Which charter service did you hire?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he continued, “There are three, and I know one is already on charter. I’ll ring the other two.”
He moved toward the phone, but Corrie beat him to it, her hand gluing the receiver in place. “I’m leaving,” she gasped. He gently took her hand from the phone. “Odious creature!” she flung.
“Don’t forget incomprehensible. But you can’t claim that now, can you, Miss Nelson? Because there is nothing incomprehensible about me anymore. You know exactly where I’m coming from.”
He dialed a number and waited. His eyes were back on hers, holding them, adoring her without shame even when he began to speak.
“Nick, Britt Hendricks. Do you have a booking made by Miss Corrie Nelson for Cairns this evening?”
“Yes, at five o’clock. Is there a problem?”
“No problem, mate, just cancel it. I had planned on flying down early tomorrow, so I’ll take it instead, and that means there’s no change to the flight plans lodged. And if you’re wondering, there’s nothing wrong with my Cessna. So I’ll want you to stay over, returning tomorrow late afternoon. We can’t have you losing revenue due to last-minute cancellations.”
Within moments, the call was over, and as he lowered the phone, Corrie snapped, “Certainly not when you’re the one responsible for him losing a booking. Quite the philanthropist, aren’t you?”
“I can be a generous man, as you will find out, Corrie.” His smile was positively wicked as he looked down at her. “This is yours?” He stepped past her to pick up the cream, tailored blazer, which he handed to her. Then, picking up the waiting suitcase, he re-opened the door. “Matt will be down later to collect Russella’s things, plus anything we may have left.”
Corrie darted into the bathroom, and Britt automatically thrust out one jogger-clad foot to stop the door from slamming shut, making her grimace with annoyance. She scooped her makeup into the floral vanity case and pulled the few pins from her hair.
* * * *
As Corrie and Britt made their way upstairs, Wing Lee passed them coming down, and a long string of Chinese began and continued until he disappeared from sight. Britt chuckled and continued up the remaining steps. He turned down a hallway toward the rear of the building. Midway he opened a door to enter and place her suitcase on the white mat beside a double bed. He stepped to the side to open another door.
“You’ll have to share with Russella. Her room is the other guest room and adjoins this bathroom. I hope you are comfortable.”
Corrie looked around her at the natural cane furniture. Floor-to-ceiling louvre windows were edged with drapes patterned with exotic hibiscus blooms that was used again in the tailored bedspread.
Surely now Britt would take the time to explain why she found herself his unwilling guest. She turned and swallowed her surprise. The room was empty; he had gone.
Her suitcase remained where it was, on the white cotton mat covering the polished floor beside the bed, and her vanity case was still clutched in her hands. Was he coming back? No, he didn’t have time if he was flying out on the charter flight. The one that should have been hers instead of being dumped here, in this bedroom, no matter how enchanting it was.
And was that significant, it being a bedroom, and a double bed? The way he had looked at her... If he laid a finger on her, she would fight to within an inch of her life to repel him. “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” she admonished herself.
Still, the doubts lingered.
What did she know of the tropics and the effect this way of life could have on one? They all seemed quite harmlessly civilized on the surface, but what steamy passions flowed and lurked beneath that thin veneer?
Oh God! What had she and Rusie walked into? And now her poor, unsuspecting cousin claimed she had fallen in love with one of them.
“Take a hold of yourself, Corrie,” she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she took her own sensible advice and did just that for all of two minutes, then she started questioning again.
What was wrong with that man? And more to the point, what was wrong with her? The meekness of her actual departure from the motel had been nothing less than astounding! She found it hard to come to terms with that, considering all that had taken place between them.
Should she try to find someone to ask for further instructions? Who? He was leaving, so that left Russella and Matt. Goodness knew where they were. Russella had been conspicuously absent ever since her heated declaration of “I hate you”.
It appeared Victor was the obvious choice. She would feel ill at ease about roaming through this house in search of him, especially after her resolution of never having anything to do with Arafura Enterprises, or Britt Hendricks, ever again. Then why was she standing there like a little girl lost?
But what else could she do? He’d taken her booked flight, so she couldn’t leave the island tonight. That didn’t mean she had to stay under his roof though. There had to be hotels other than the one he owned. Certainly not the standard of the Kennedy Motel, but it would be somewhere his business tentacles weren’t entwined.
A soft tap and the door opening simultaneously made Corrie cut short her plans.
“Not unpacked?” Britt asked.
Apparently she had taken longer over her thoughts and plans than the few minutes she had presumed. Britt stood before her in a complete change of clothes, his golden-brown hair still damp from his shower. Her mouth became dry, his virility reaching out to her. The crisp, long-sleeved, white business shirt and tailored, gray slacks incongruous with the tropical setting, definitely telling of the fact that his earlier than planned trip to Cairns was business.
His strong hands automatically flipped the loose maroon and silver striped tie across itself as he began to execute a perfect Windsor knot, and Corrie found her eyes straining to catch every slight movement of those long, supple fingers.
He stretched his strongly muscled neck to settle the white collar more comfortably, and for some unaccountable reason, the action—one which she had witnessed her father do many times—had her clutching her small vanity case even more tightly. She feared her errant fingers would drop it and do what they longed to do—ease the collar of his shirt for him with the sole purpose of being able to feel the warmth of his vibrant body under the palms of her hands.
His hands stilled, and his incredible green eyes met hers and began to deepen in color. Not wanting to find out what came next, Corrie turned her head aside in panic.
“We’ll continue our previous inconclusive meeting tomorrow night when I return,” he said. All visage of emotion had vanished from his voice.
It was then Corrie found her tongue. “Inconclusive? Only because you made it so. I would like to inform you that I will not tolerate this arrangement you have forced on me.”
“You object to sharing the bathroom with your cousin? I’ve been misled. I had the impression you were inseparable.”
The feigned amazement in his voice was as false as his incomprehension at the meaning of her words. It infuriated her.
“Is this why I’m here? You thought, because Russella chooses to be your guest—”
“Russella is Matt’s guest, not mine. Make no mistake about that.” His voice had dropped the goading quality.
“Matt’s guest, your guest, whose-ever guest, you have no right to draw the conclusion that I want to be included in your house-party, Mr. Hendricks. In fact, I find the whole idea distasteful. If I had been given the choice, I would have swallowed my pride and stayed the night at your motel. Even accepted the airline ticket you offered me. I kno
w that would be your preference as well. You don’t want me here. Goodness knows what sob story Rusie has handed you. She can be very convincing at times.”
His broad shoulder propped his weight up against the doorframe. “So you know what my preferences are, Corrie?” he purred.
She hated the way those mesmerizing eyes of his held a twinkle of laughter. And why was his purely male mouth stretching into a breathtaking smile? A smile that, for a split second, encouraged the inclination of wanting to smile back until pride took its place. But the heat rushing up her neck couldn’t be avoided.
Victor joined them, and Corrie watched his hand touch Britt’s shoulder. “You’re late,” then he acknowledged her with a succinct, “Corrie,” before he turned away. “I’ll take these.” The large briefcase and navy jacket was lifted from where Britt had left them opposite Corrie’s door. As Victor turned to Britt again she could see he was less than pleased. “Monty’s demanding to know why this meeting is needed tonight.”
Britt dragged his gaze from hers and pulled himself up to his towering height. “And he’ll have the answers when I see him tonight. And Michael?”
“I reached him in Townsville. He’ll be there in time. I could have gone for you, Britt.”
“My decision, Vic. My responsibility to settle things. Corrie and I will continue our meeting when I return tomorrow night.” He spun on his heel and left.
Without his intimidating presence Corrie’s mind began to work, and she wanted to shout odious creature.
Britt’s head and shoulder reappeared, and when he said, “Odious creature, correct?” Corrie suspected she had bitten her tongue too late, for how else did he know?
Standing in the doorway again, his eyes were devouring her, and God forgive her, she was responding. She knew her eyes were softening, clinging to his, recognizing his all too easy to read need, and it terrified her so much she began to tremble. She only had to take one small step and he would hold her, crush her to him, and she would melt into his hard body. It would be so easy, so easy...
Pearls of the Past Page 6