Destination Romance

by Barbara McMahon

  'I shouldn't. I need to get home and to bed. I have to work early in the morning.' Her head was delightfully light, and she seemed to float as they walked along.

  'You have time for a nightcap. I don't want to stop now. Katherine, I want you to consider everything and see if we can take one more chance. I'll cut back on work; devote more time to you. We'll do things differently, decide what we both want to do and do that. Think it over; don't decide tonight.'

  She felt as if she were gliding along, floating on air. Her only anchor was the strength in his arm. Her fingers were gripping as if she didn't want to let go. She enjoyed the feel of his hand covering hers. It must be the wine.

  Was it imprudent to return with him to his room? What if he tried to make love to her? Her heart sped up with the thought. What if he did? She remembered his kisses on the beach, and heat washed through her body. Why did his lovemaking seem different here in Key West, more exciting? Was there special magic in the tropical night not found in colder climes?

  They were still married; if he changed a little, would she want to stay married? She glanced at him from under her lashes. He didn't seem the same as the ruthless, hard-working businessman from Boston she knew so well.

  He was mysterious, exciting, intriguing. Was it the spell of the islands? Or had Michael somehow changed? Had she changed?

  She was still musing over these things when he unlocked the door to his room, and drew her inside. It was dark when he shut the door behind them, but he had no difficulty finding her, finding her mouth and covering it with his own.

  His lips were hot and demanding, seeking to arouse, to entice and to conquer. His arms came around her and drew her tightly against him, her body pressed against the length of his. His hands moved in delectable patterns against her spine, his long legs braced to support them. His mouth plundered the sweetness of hers.

  Katie's head began to spin, and her breathing grew uneven. His lips moved, and again his kiss was wild and hot. She could scarcely breathe, scarcely think, only feel the floating euphoria of his touch.

  His hand moved to cup one breast, teasing her nipple to awareness through the thin fabric of her dress. Igniting a fire within her that grew with each passing second, his touch electrified her, her senses raced, as currents of delight flashed through her.

  He tilted her head and trailed hot, fiery kisses along her throat to the smooth tops of her shoulders, hot kisses that warmed her, inflamed her and made her ache with longing for more—more of his touch, more of his kisses, all over her skin.

  She reached up and slipped his jacket from his shoulders letting it fall on the floor. Moving against him to feel his muscles beneath her hands, to feel the hard wall of his chest against the softness of her breasts crushed against him, she was consumed with the passion that filled the room.

  Where had this passionate man come from? Where had she hidden her passion all these years? She wanted to rip the clothes from his body, have him do the same to her and carry her to the bed, or just sink on to the floor.

  The strident ring of the phone shattered the dark night. It penetrated the fog-cloud in Katie's mind and she pulled back, her eyes wide in horror at what was happening. At what had almost happened. She stepped back as Michael released her.

  He flicked on the light and strode to the phone. Numbly she watched him, blinking in the lighted room.

  'Donovan... Yeah, Steve, what's up...?'

  Katie watched as the minutes ticked by, as Michael became caught up in the work problem being discussed on the phone, as he forgot her presence entirely.

  So much for his talk of changing. He couldn't even keep away from business for one evening.

  She looked at the clock. It was after ten-thirty and still they called him. Did none of them sleep? Was business all-consuming for all of them? It always had been for Michael. He filled his days and most of his evenings with work, as if he had no other life apart from it.

  Quietly, slowly, she moved to the door, eased it open and slipped through. She ignored the tiny ache in her heart. It was the same old story; why had she thought it would be different at all? The wine had muddled her senses; she knew this man, knew how he thought, how he worked.

  He never saw her go.

  Katie did not take her morning swim the next day. She stayed in the privacy of her apartment and tried to read the paper. The scenes from last night replayed, however, and she couldn't concentrate. She saw herself in Michael's arms, reveling in his kiss, his touch, and longing for more, regretting the interruption of the phone.

  Squirming in her chair, she chided herself for being disturbed by memories she'd do best to forget.

  Sure, he'd devoted himself to her, drawn her out at dinner, evidenced a desire for her company—almost convinced her he'd change, that business would not come before her. Until the reality of his business took hold. When business called, everything else was dropped—it commanded his immediate and complete attention.

  She was furious with herself for even considering for one second changing her mind about their separation. She had spent years with the man; she knew how he was. He'd do anything to get his way, then move on to the next challenge. Promise her the moon until she was safely ensconced in Boston, then move on to the next problem.

  He'd seen her leaving as a challenge: bring her round, satisfy his longing for domination, then he'd start on something else, content to let her live as she had been doing for the last several years.

  Thank goodness for the phone call—it had saved her from making a fool of herself. She had almost been convinced, almost persuaded. It must have been the wine. She'd guard against it in the future, and against him.

  She rode her bike to work, enjoying the bright colors along the route, the air still cool and soft after the balmy night. The stalls of colorful T-shirts, straw hats and souvenirs were just opening. It was too early for the tourists. Only a few people were on the streets.

  When she pushed her cart off on to her floor, Katie was startled to find Michael waiting by the elevator door.

  'Good morning, Katherine.' His voice was quiet. He pushed away from the wall and moved closer.

  'What are you doing here?' she asked, pushing the bulky cart down towards the first room.

  'You left very abruptly last night.'

  She paused and looked up at him. 'Michael, we had dinner, had our talk. I have not changed my mind. And you haven't changed either. The minute something from work crops up, you're on it.'

  'If that's all--'

  'No, it's not. It was the whole way of life we lived. I want more than to be a figurehead at some charity. I want to do things, share with people, feel more alive. I want children, a family, traditions started. I have to go to work now. And when I'm finished I'll do something totally different, like go swimming, or snorkeling, or shopping—I won't spend eight hours here and then do the same thing for the rest of my waking hours the way you do. Goodbye, Michael.'

  He remained standing while she pushed her cart towards the first door. Knocking, and entering, Katie began work.

  Quickly and efficiently going about her tasks, she finished early. She had no further encounters with Michael. Not wanting to linger to chat with any of the others, she changed and left as soon as she could.

  Avoiding any place that could conceivably find Michael Donovan for the next two days, Katie was a virtual recluse. She avoided her usual haunts, did not go to the beach, nor through the main streets of town. She wasn't sure she could trust herself if she ran into Michael.

  On the third morning, Debbie was at work before Katie. 'Hey, Katie, haven't seen you for a while.'

  She smiled her greeting, changing into her uniform.

  'Been busy?'

  Katie nodded, beginning to change from her shorts.

  'Want to change floors back now that the delectable Mr. Donovan's gone? Or just stay the way we are? Doesn't matter to me.'

  'Michael's gone?' Katie looked at Debbie, startled.

  He'd gone. And she hadn
't known it; he hadn't even said goodbye. She sat down on the bench, her legs weak. He'd finally gone. Why wasn't she happier?

  'A day or so ago. Didn't you know?'

  'No, I—er—I hadn't seen him for a while. Just a friend–' She trailed off, rising to finish dressing slowly. She should be feeling relieved that he'd left. That was what she'd wanted. She knew they had no future together, and she didn't need him here causing trouble for her. Only she would have thought he'd say goodbye.

  'I thought you looked like more than friends; there was a certain spark—I don't know, as if you could be more than friends, especially at the picnic we had on the beach,' Debbie said, sitting on the bench ready for a long chat.

  'No, our worlds are too different. Michael's a businessman, rich, successful, and quite caught up in it.' Katie's voice was slightly muffled as she pulled her dress on. Had Debbie seen his kiss at the picnic?

  'Must be doing all right to afford to stay at this place. Oh, well, not for the likes of us working gals.' Debbie rose. 'Not that I'd trade Rick for anyone. But somehow I thought you and Michael suited each other. Listen, we're going out to the movies tonight—Marlise, too. Want to come?'

  'Sure, what's playing?'

  They grabbed their carts, nodded to the other women just coming in, and headed for the elevator, discussing the relative merits of the films playing at the local theater. Key West was small, so there were not a lot of choices when it came to movies.

  Katie felt split in two. Part of her was with Debbie, listening, murmuring something when appropriate; the rest of her was dwelling on the fact that Michael had left, and the void that opened in her life.

  This was what she wanted. He must have finally realized she meant what she said, and given up. Maybe leaving him the other night had shown him at last that she was serious. They'd had their talk; it changed nothing. There was no more to be said.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Katie continued to enjoy spending time with her friends, continued to try to decide what she wanted to do with her future, and swam in the ocean every day. Some of the initial sparkle faded, however. It became more of an effort to do some things, to feel the enthusiasm she had once felt. She refused to speculate on why that was.

  When they had another nighttime picnic, she remembered Michael and the passionate kiss he'd given her. When she rode her bike downtown, she'd pass the Fresh Catch restaurant and remember their last dinner, and what had almost happened afterwards. When she'd hear a small plane circle overhead, she'd remember their return from Miami. Even working on a different floor was a reminder of Michael.

  She continued to do the rooms that had been Debbie's. She didn't want to go into 1121, didn't want to remember Michael's presence there, or that final night. She was content to stay on the lower floor.

  She wished he'd never come, had never left his impression on Key West, had left it solely hers. But he had, and it was up to her to forget him. Forget the few magic kisses, the warmth seeing him had brought, she told herself. She was curiously saddened by his leaving, but it was what she wanted. Forget him and move on.

  February ended and March began. It didn't seem as though the number of tourists remained high as spring approached. When Katie asked Debbie if she was imagining it, Debbie said it was true.

  'Soon they'll taper off and it'll be quiet for a week or two. Then over Easter we're swamped with obnoxious college kids. They don't usually stay here, of course- it's too expensive—but they're everywhere else on the island.'

  'If it's so awful, why does the town let them come?'

  'Lots of money. You can put up with a lot of things for the money they bring in during a three-week period.'

  'Like Fort Lauderdale,' Katie said, remembering the stories she'd read in years past.

  'Exactly, only without as much publicity. Want to go for a Coke?'

  'Sure, just let me finish up here.' Katie cleaned up her cart, changed her clothes and left with her friend, wondering what changes she'd see with the arrival of the college kids. She wanted to experience Key West in all its phases. Winter had been ideal, with flowers in bloom, and the weather constantly warm and sunny. She hoped the rest of the seasons were as delightful.

  Though whether she'd stay in Key West remained to be seen. She didn't want to work in a hotel all her life. She spent endless hours trying to decide exactly what she wanted to do. But for the time being she was content to glide along, enjoying herself, and saving a little money. There would be time enough to find another job, start on a new career. She'd wait until the divorce was final, then decide.

  Two days later, Katie left work alone and there he sat, on the curb by the employees' entrance, dressed in faded cut-offs, a baggy T-shirt and scuffed, dirty tennis shoes. Katie saw him immediately, paused and looked again to be sure. It was Michael Donovan.

  He looked up at her when she approached and smiled lazily. Katie felt her heart turn over. A sudden happiness flooded her and she frowned, trying to hang on to sanity.

  'Michael? Whatever are you doing here? And dressed like that?' He always dressed in quality men clothing.

  'Hi, Kath—Katie.' He rose easily until he stood beside her. His face was pale compared to the natives, his tan of a few weeks ago faded. His attire, however, would blend in with the best of the beachcombers. She hadn't known he even owned such clothes.

  'I've moved to Key West. Isn't this how the people dress here?'

  'Yes, but...' The words penetrated. 'What do you mean you've moved here?'

  He reached out and trailed his fingers down her cheek, down her neck, his eyes following his hand, avoiding her eyes. Katie shivered at his touch, her heart fluttering.

  'I mean, you didn't like Boston, didn't like how we lived there, so I thought I'd try Key West. We'll try your way for a while.'

  She blinked up at him, uncertainty giving way to a growing belief. 'You moved here, like in you're planning to live here permanently?'

  'Hmm. I told you I didn't want to let you go.'

  'That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You can't move here. This is nothing like Boston. How can you run your business from here? The only airline service is small planes. No multi-communications network, no international jets, no high-priced lawyers–'

  He put his fingers over her mouth, his own lips twitching as she fell silent.

  'I put Steve in charge of Donovan Construction, gave Frances an early retirement, and closed the Boston house. I left most of my clothes there, bringing only what I thought I'd need here. I'm not going to work. You work; you can support us for a while.'

  She stared at him, stunned. Shaking her head, she stepped back. 'You've gone crazy. Michael, I want a divorce. I don't want you living here.'

  'And I think we should give our marriage a try again.' His voice was patient.

  'No.' This was worse than when she'd tried to explain why she was leaving. He just wouldn't listen to her.

  He sighed and looked around the small alley. 'Okay, then. I guess you're adamant. But I'm in a fix. I can't return immediately. I would look crazy then. I'll stay a while, return to Boston after the summer. At least I know a few people here—Rick, Debbie, Jim.' He turned back to her. 'You.'

  She frowned, wanting to make him leave immediately, wanting him to stay away from her, from her friends. Looking at him suspiciously, she had a sudden thought. Michael didn't give up so easily; he always went after what he wanted with a single- minded determination. Why the sudden agreement?

  'And the divorce—are the attorneys still working on it?' He hadn't stopped that, had he?

  'Yes. I told them to hold off when I was here before, but if you are of the same mind I guess I'll have them wrap it up. It'll be a few more months, that's all.'

  She nodded. When the silence began to stretch out awkwardly, she said, 'Well, see you.' She watched him for another minute, then turned and walked slowly away, towards home.

  Emotions churning as she walked, Katie tried to analyze how she felt. She couldn't. All she could fe
el was the surprise that he'd returned, shock at what he'd proposed, and a small, small question of what it would be like if they tried it.

  Determined to let Michael's return make no difference to her life on the island, Katie rose at her normal time and went for her swim. Michael was on the beach, lying on the sand not far from where she usually swam. She had halfway expected it. Why wasn't he running? She paused on the sand in indecision. Lifting her chin, determined not to be intimidated, she ignored him, walking out to the water's edge, discarding her shorts and top and plunging into the sea.

  The water was heavenly. Still, soft, warm, it caressed her as she swam, its touch like silk against her skin. The sun's rays were hot even at this early hour, sparkling on the water, peeping over the tall palms that lined the beach. She enjoyed this quiet time each morning.

  When she'd had enough, she turned for the shore, not surprised to find Michael had moved and was now lounging lazily back on the sand beside her towel and clothes, his eyes on her. He watched her as she swam in, stood and waded the rest of the way.

  She felt the blood pound in her ears as she walked towards him, her wet swimsuit molding her figure like a second skin. Conscious of his eyes on her, boldly assessing her as she drew closer, she flushed and looked away, trying to pretend he wasn't there. But not succeeding. Every nerve ending was quivering with the touch of his eyes, every inch of her body felt as if he'd touched her, caressed her.

  She snatched up her towel and held it as a defense against his look.

  'Good morning.' He smiled up at her, his eyes indolently roaming over her figure, laughing at her feeble attempts to hide her body from his gaze. Katie felt a little foolish, but kept the towel in place.

  'Good morning.' Her greeting was grudgingly returned. When she ventured to look at him, he was staring out over the water. Dressed in the same cut-offs as yesterday, he had a sleeveless T-shirt on this morning, displaying pink skin on his shoulders and arms.

  'Don't get burned. The sun can be fierce this time of year,' she said involuntarily as she saw the reddened skin.