Destination Romance

by Barbara McMahon

  It had seemed too good to be true when she'd answered the ad last spring—cruise the south Pacific and tutor a college student in mathematics.

  Anything seeming too good to be true probably was, her friend Paula had told her. Mary-Kate wished she'd listened to her friend. But the temptation of finding something exotic after spending her entire life in Iowa was too much to resist.

  As she rounded a bend, the fields opened up, and before her, on a slight rise, stood a long white house with dark green shutters flanking each window. Rambling and open, it seemed large enough to be a small hotel. Mary-Kate quickened her pace. Thank goodness. She hoped the people were home. She had to contact the yacht before it was too far away. Before it became a problem for them to return for her.

  Some yards to the left of the house she saw two men working on the engine of a large truck. She hesitated, and then kept on toward the house. She wanted something to drink. Then she'd have to make arrangements to rejoin the Lombard’s and their ship. Right now a tall glass of water held the most appeal.

  She still couldn't believe those kids had left her stranded. She wondered when they would realize she was no longer on the boat. She was sure Rob wouldn't bring the absence to his parents' attention. Once they knew she was not on board Mrs. Lombard would assume Mary-Kate would be fine and find her own way home. Maybe Mr. Lombard would miss her, only because she was someone who hadn't heard his stories six times over yet. But, depending on his mood, he could just write her off and continue the island tour.

  The flagstone lanai was cool. The bougainvillea-covered trellis overhead broke the sun's heat, the leaves gently waving as the soft sea breezes reached the house on the knoll. Mary-Kate rang the bell, and turned to survey the view. It was spectacular!

  The house was situated so the wide blue Pacific was visible as it spread to the horizon. Green sugarcane fields to the left as far as she could see. A field of short, squat pineapple stretched out on the right. The bright purple bougainvillea framed it all like a picture postcard.

  "Who the devil are you?" a voice growled behind her.

  Mary-Kate turned, her eyes drawn to the expanse of tanned skin before her. The man's shirt was open, blowing back in the breeze, exposing his muscular chest, deeply tanned. She moved her eyes up the strong column of his neck, upward to clash with steely gray eyes. Startlingly light in the darkness of his tan, his eyes glared down at her. She glanced at his sun-streaked brown hair, then back to his chest.

  His stance was uncompromising, arrogant. Fists on hips, his legs spread, he reminded Mary-Kate of a modern-day buccaneer. His shoulders were broad and muscular; his legs long and planted firmly on the terrazzo floor. He'd look more at home aboard a square-rigger than in the tropical doorway.

  Mary-Kate wanted to draw her fingers down the faint dusting of hair on his chest, follow the trail as it dipped lower, until it disappeared into his tight denim cutoffs, feel the warmth of his skin, the strength of his muscles.

  She took a deep breath, wondering if she had a touch of sunstroke. She'd never even thought about something like that in her life; why would she wish to touch a perfect stranger? She'd surely be all right once she cooled down.

  "I was stranded," she said finally, reluctantly moving her gaze back to his face. His eyes impaled her, locked on to hers, and wouldn’t release her.

  "Are you part of that group in Hanioli Bay?" His eyes flicked contemptuously down the length of her.

  "I don't know what bay you mean. We came ashore at a nice beach over there." She waved her hand in the direction she'd come from.

  "I told those kids that this is private property and to stay off. When you all came back, I threw your friends off. Where were you— hiding?"

  Mary-Kate was taken aback. Her traveling companions had deserted her and this man was mad at her! "I wasn't hiding; I was around a little headland, on a smaller beach. I wanted a quiet afternoon. I fell asleep--" Her voice trailed off. She was trying to be reasonable, but it was hard to do with the flights of fancy her mind chose to entertain.

  She hadn't known it was private property. It was like Rob Lombard to disregard the man's warning. He had been spoiled all his life, did whatever he wished. Money could buy anything, or so he'd been led to believe. Mary-Kate wished she'd stayed in her cabin on the boat. Or even stayed with the rest of the beach party. At least she would be on the yacht now, not facing this angry man.

  "You're trespassing."

  "Well, if I could call a cab--" Mary-Kate's voice faded as she realized she had no money. She hadn't expected to need any for an afternoon on the beach.

  "There's no cab service on the island. Just where do you plan to go?"

  He surveyed her from top to toe again, lingering in appreciation at the short hemline of her cover-up. “Aren't you a little old for that group I chased off?”

  Mary-Kate was acutely aware of how much skin showed. She resolutely stood her ground, however, refusing to give in to the desire to duck behind one of the porch chairs. He would not intimidate her.

  “I'm tutoring them in math. If I could get to town, I'll arrange to rejoin the people I'm traveling with. Somehow. There is a town here, isn't there?"

  His silver eyes studied her for several long minutes, his lips a thin, tight line. Mary-Kate resisted fidgeting beneath his gaze, now appreciating how some of her students felt when she gave them a certain look. She didn't like it.

  She tried again. "If you could just tell me how I can get to town, I won't bother you any longer."

  "There is no town. You're on a private island— my island. Your friends were told this morning not to trespass. Despite that they returned, and brought you with them. I find it hard to believe they'd accidentally leave you behind." His voice was laced with sarcasm. “Maybe they wanted to ditch the tutor.”

  "How am I to rejoin the boat, then?"

  “Not my problem.”

  "I'm tutoring one of the college students you sent away. Or I'm supposed to be. He's so tiresome, doesn't want to do any work and how I'm going to get him to pass the standard exam is beyond me. I don't know how to contact the yacht or let them know where I am. I need to rejoin them."

  "Let me guess, the blond one," the stranger said dryly.

  “What?”

  “The tiresome student—he was the blond I'm guessing.”

  "How did you know?"

  He shrugged.

  Mary-Kate waited a few seconds but, when he said nothing further, she spoke again. "If I could use your phone I could call someone to contact them."

  "I don't have a phone you can use."

  "How am I to get back to the boat?"

  "You should have thought of that before you stayed behind!"

  "I didn't stay behind; I was left!" She raised her voice slightly as if he were hard of hearing.

  "Why would they leave you?"

  "They could have forgotten I went along. We don't socialize much, and this was the first time I'd gone with them on an outing."

  "Or they were too drunk to remember you were there. They must have had a case of beer gone by the time I got there." His voice was disapproving.

  She said nothing; it was probably true. That appeared to be all the students had wanted to do—party, drink, carouse. And Rob's parents had been very lax in trying to get their son to study. One hour a day was all he spent on mathematics and without much concentration. However, when Mary-Kate approached his parents for support for more study time, she found them displeased with her for not teaching him better—not their precious son for laziness.

  "Whatever, I can't help you," the stranger said.

  "Who can?"

  "No one here. This is a working pineapple plantation. We don't offer shuttle services to Suva."

  "But how can I get there? I can't stay here forever."

  He shrugged, then said slowly, "There's a supply boat that comes every few weeks. You could go on that."

  She frowned, unwilling to accept there was no way to leave. She looked at the tile again. He
was wearing no shoes. Not that he needed to, he was tall without them, over six feet. And his arrogant stance hadn't eased one iota. Mary-Kate continued to find his expanse of tanned chest distracting.

  She was drawn to it again and again. Mary-Kate had never felt such a strong desire to touch someone, such a longing to feel the warm skin. Her fingers actually ached with longing. Warmth rose in her cheeks and she forced herself to look away. She should stay out of the sun. She was stranded on an island where she knew no one. Had no way to get in touch with the yacht, and had to deal with a man who didn't seem to give a damn about anything.

  "When's the boat due next?" She knew even before he spoke it wouldn't be any time soon. The sinking feeling in her stomach grew worse.

  "Maybe the end of the month."

  Eighteen days away.

  "I have no clothes, no place to stay, no money. What do I do until then? That's almost three weeks away." She hoped the sudden panic that engulfed her didn't show. She needed to keep a level head. She took a deep breath. She'd find a way out of this. She had to.

  He hesitated a long moment. "If that outfit was worn to attract my interest, it's wasted. I see women in bikinis all the time, though you do display yours to advantage."

  Mary-Kate was stunned at his words, at the thought! The furthest thing from her mind that morning had been that she'd meet anyone, much less want to entice them with the clothes she wore. Before she could vent her feelings, however, he spoke again.

  "I'll see if Roy's wife has some things you can borrow." He hesitated a long moment, his scowl deepening. "As to where to stay, there's not a lot of choice. Bunk in with Roy's daughter who's seven, or stay here.” He stared at her for another moment. “The room here's probably a better choice. I guess I'm stuck with you. But I'm not doing this for nothing. You can work for room and board--there's always work around a pineapple plantation. That is, if you really want to stay." The last was delivered so sarcastically that Mary-Kate longed to slap his smug face.

  "If I can't get back to the boat, I don't have much choice. I appreciate your help.” Actually she resented him a lot, but dare not give voice to that since right now he seemed to be her only hope. “Your wife won't mind?”

  "I don't have a wife," he bit out, his eyes going hard. "And I'm not looking for one either, so you staying behind was wasted on that angle."

  Mary-Kate was astonished. Did he think every woman who came his way was after him? Of all the egotistical, arrogant, conceited, self-centered individuals. He was making Rob start to look good.

  "I assure you I only want to rejoin the boat I came on. Maybe when they discover I'm not on board, they'll return for me." She spoke patiently, though her emotions were in turmoil.

  "Do you plan to camp on the beach until then?" he asked dryly.

  Mary-Kate shook her head. It could be morning before that party-happy group realized they hadn't seen her for a while. The thought crossed her mind that they might not return for her at all. Rob would be in no hurry to resume studies. Mrs. Lombard would likely assure her husband that Mary-Kate would be fine—even accuse her of shirking her duties by jumping ship.

  Then what would she do?

  In the future, she'd be very wary of things that looked to be too good to be true. She hated for Paula to say she told her so. But she would learn from her mistake and be lots more wary in the future.

  "I can't stay on the beach." She sighed, anger and frustration growing. Damn Rob and his drinking, and his flighty parents! What was she to do now? She faced the unfriendly man again, reluctant to ask anything of him. Still—what choice did she have?

  "Can't you recommend some other place for me to stay until the supply boat arrives, or the Lombard’s remember to come back for me?"

  "The houses the workers live in are small and I don't know of any extra rooms. There's the village by the port, but the only rooming house cost money—which I think you don't have?”

  She shook her head. She hadn't planned to need any money on a trip to the beach.

  “This house has plenty of room. Take it or leave it. I've work to do."

  As an invitation, it lacked a lot. But Mary-Kate was too hot and tired to look a gift horse in the mouth. She nodded.

  "Thank you." She bit the words out. There was no choice for now. She'd see what she could find out once she knew her way around. Maybe the yacht would return for her this afternoon.

  “Can I see the bay from here? In case they return for me?”

  “From the lanai in the back. You think they'll come back?”

  “I hope so.” Best case it was fifty-fifty.

  “Until then I'll show you the room. I have work to do.”

  "I don't know your name," she said as he stood aside with a mocking bow to let her enter. She didn't know anything about him, except that somewhere he had snarling dogs, was strong enough to expel a group of strapping college boys with no help, and was a very reluctant host.

  "Dane Carmichael."

  "I'm Mary-Kate O'Donnell, Mr. Carmichael; how do you do?"

  "I do better without intrusions from mainland women who think it would be wonderful to cultivate a plantation owner. I'm not in the mood for summer romances. Call me Dane. Come this way."

  "I didn't ask to be left behind," she said to his back, glaring at him as she followed. The conceit of the man was beyond belief. She wasn't looking for a summer romance. And if he owned this plantation, he was probably rich and she had had her fill of rich men! All she wanted to do was to get home.

  He was already walking down a long hall. The breeze swept through and the tile floor added to the coolness. After the heat of the sun, it was heavenly to be inside. Near the end he indicated an opened door. "Bedroom and bath." He paused at the door allowing her to enter the room, then left.

  Mary-Kate was unable to figure him out. If he didn't believe her, why offer her a place to stay? Since he had, why was he angry? If he didn't want her to stay, surely some other arrangements could be made? He was under no obligation to house her. She wondered how far the village was and if that might be a better alternative—money not withstanding.

  She turned to survey the large, airy room. It was furnished in French provincial style, a big bed in the center of the room, double dresser against one wall and a dainty white chair near the corner. A ceiling fan turned slowly in the center of the room, French doors opened to a lanai. The room was simply finished, but cool and inviting. To the right she saw the adjoining bathroom with its large tub. As she walked closer to inspect it, she caught sight of herself in the mirror over the sink.

  She looked awful! Her curly brown hair was sticking out all over, as if she'd stuck her finger in a light socket. Her face was streaked where the salt air and perspiration had mingled with the sunscreen. She was hot, red, with no vestige of makeup. But splashing cool water on her sticky face sounded instantly appealing. She also cupped her hands and drank several scoops of water. She was so thirsty!

  She opened one of the drawers beneath the sink and found a clean brush and comb. Dragging them through her tangled mop helped subdue it, and before long she was almost back to normal.

  "Sheets." Dane stood by the bed. He dropped a set on the spread, and stood looking at her. She hadn't heard him return. Bare feet on tile made no sound. She turned and drew in a deep breath. Was his scowl permanent? His eyes studied her; again she was acutely aware of her scanty attire.

  "Dinner at seven, on the lanai. If you're late, no food."

  "What shall I do until then?" The afternoon was half gone, but there were still several hours till seven. Should she return to the beach in hope of the yacht's returning?

  He shrugged. "Whatever. Stay out of my way. I'll get Roy's wife over." Without another word, he left.

  He didn't have a high regard for trespassers; Mary-Kate thought when he'd gone. Not that she blamed him. Still, he had taken her in, albeit reluctantly. She could be stuck on the beach with no shade and no water.

  Her anger against the Lombard’s flared, a
nd she vented her energy in activity, making the bed. The soft tropical air moved gently beneath the ceiling fan, giving an illusion of coolness to the room. It was still hot, though, and she was perspiring when she finished.

  She wandered to the French doors and threw them wide. A long, tile lanai stretched out before her; tall palms at its edge cast spots of shade. Large tubs spilled colorful blooms in red, yellow and ivory. A couple of reclining chaises and white metal tables with bright umbrellas stood baking in the sun. The air was still on this side of the house, though the palm fronds rustled softly in the breeze above the house, and the sweet scents of plumeria and ginger drifted on the breeze.

  Mary-Kate shut the doors, closing out the heat. When the sun went down, she'd open them, but not while it was so hot. She lay down on the bed, wondering what she was going to do until she rejoined the Lombard yacht. And when that might be. She ran through a variety of ways to get in touch with the errant family, if they didn't return for her on their own. Planning what she'd tell Rob when she was safely on board helped her feel somewhat better. How he thought he'd ever make it in the real world was beyond her. His father's millions wouldn't buffer him for all life's experiences.

  She also should figure out how to get back home if they did not return. She suspected Dane Carmichael wouldn't be much help.

  Her thoughts turned to her host. He was angry they'd invaded his island, and, knowing how obnoxious Rob and his friends could be, Mary-Kate didn't blame him. He certainly wasn't the friendly type, though he had at least been gracious enough to put her up until she could rejoin her traveling companions.

  But it seemed odd that there was no way to contact anyone. She hadn't thought anyone lived so cut off from the rest of the world in this day and age. No phone? No Internet?

  Who was he? Had he always lived on this island? If so he was probably the only man on the planet who didn't need to be in constant communications with others.

  The more she thought about it, the more she wondered why he'd insisted Rob and his friends leave so suddenly? A picnic on a deserted beach seemed innocuous enough. It wasn't as if they could do much damage sitting on the beach drinking beer. Did he expect the guys to run amok through the cane field? Or did he just not want to deal with obnoxious college kids? She didn't blame him if it was the latter. She wasn't so keen on the college kids in her party either.