Between Roc and a Hard Place

by Heather Graham

  She instantly went cold, her hands growing clammy long before she looked up and saw Eric Longford standing at Roc’s shoulder.

  He was a tall man, nearly of a size with Roc, as broad shouldered, as well muscled, blond where Roc was dark, his eyes very light, his upper lip covered with a platinum mustache. Striking …

  But not Roc! her heart cried out.

  And then panic set in as she saw Roc’s eyes. Saw him look at Eric, then felt the ice in his gaze. “Longford,” he breathed very softly.

  The music was still playing, but Roc wasn’t holding Melinda anymore. His arms were crossed over his chest as he stared at Eric.

  “Longford. Just imagine. What on earth could you be doing here?”

  “Just trying to dance,” Eric said, placing a hand on Melinda’s shoulder.

  She would have eased away—except that his was a powerful grasp.

  It didn’t matter.

  Roc’s hand suddenly fell on her other shoulder.

  “Trellyn, I was cutting in—”

  “But I’m not letting go,” Roc said icily.

  The tension was combustible. Melinda herself wanted to scream. She knew Roc, knew his thoughts.

  He was thinking that Eric could only be here if she had contacted him, if she had told him where to find her.…

  But it wasn’t true!

  “Trellyn, Melinda and I—”

  “Longford, what’s the matter? Have you lost your comprehension of the English language? You’re not cutting in. Not on this dance, partner!”

  Now they each had one of her hands. And each started to walk in a different direction.

  So this was to be her punishment for recklessness! Drawn and quartered on the dance floor, she thought in fleeting panic.

  “Eric—” she began, determined not to let this get out of hand. She had to let Roc know that she hadn’t contacted anyone.

  Damn him! She was furious! No matter what, he doubted her so damned quickly!

  “Wait!” she tried again, jerking furiously on both hands.

  But before she could go any further, she felt another set of hands fall on her shoulders. And a third male voice suddenly intervened on her behalf.

  “Gentlemen! Will both of you get your hands off my daughter?”

  Her father. Oh, God.

  Her hands were free. She spun around. Yes, he was there. As tall, as handsome as the other men. A little older, of course, and very dignified tonight, his bronzed face ageless, his eyes so like the color of her own, his hair bleached platinum from constant exposure to the sun. His eyes held a startling twinkle.

  “Dad!” she gasped.

  “Oh, sure—Dad!” Roc said softly.

  “Nice way to greet me after all this time, Trellyn,” Jonathan said irritably.

  “We’re making a scene on the dance floor,” Melinda commented wryly.

  “Then dance with me,” Eric suggested, taking her arm. “Let them settle old grievances!”

  “Eric, if you’d just—”

  “Longford, damn it!” Jonathan said firmly. “I meant what I said. Get your hands off my daughter.”

  “Right,” Roc agreed. He took her hand again and pulled. She flew from Eric hard against Roc’s tense body.

  “Now, Trellyn—” Jonathan Davenport began.

  “Now, nothing!” Roc nearly growled. “You can both get your hands off my wife!” he commanded.

  Then, before anyone had a chance to say anything else, he whirled, leaving the dance floor.

  And very determinedly dragging Melinda right along with him.

  Chapter 10

  In all his life, Roc couldn’t remember being as fiercely angry as he had been when Eric Longford walked up and tapped his shoulder.

  So she was there to help him! Right! And she’d just brought a few friends and close relations along for the ride!

  The temptation to throw a fist into Longford’s face had been overwhelming. Somehow, though, he had managed not to touch the man, despite his obvious anger.

  Maybe that had had something to do with Jonathan Davenport’s sudden appearance.

  He couldn’t deck them both.

  And no matter how he itched to do so, he certainly couldn’t deck Melinda.

  And just when he had begun to believe …

  “What in God’s name are you doing?” she seethed at him.

  What was he doing? He didn’t really know. Just getting away from the entire situation as fast as possible before something did happen.

  Just getting her away.

  But as he stared into her features, pale and taut, he realized that Melinda was every bit as angry as he was. He’d dragged her from the floor, right past the dinner table, through the lobby and to the elevator.

  “I’ve never seen anyone be so rude in my entire life!” she snapped angrily. There were people in the lobby, so she kept her voice down, but it carried a wallop of vehemence.

  “Rude?” he said. “Rude?”

  “That was my father back there—” she began.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right!”

  She jerked at her hand, but he had it in a vise, and he didn’t let go.

  “He’s a salvage diver, just like you, remember? He spends a lot of time on the water, he was near here when we radioed, and Nassau is hardly a strange place to find him.”

  “How convenient.”

  She gasped suddenly, her eyes narrowing. “So I called him here, is that it? I wasn’t allowed to use the radio alone, remember?”

  “You could have done anything you wanted after your first day aboard. You seduced the entire crew the same way you seduced me.”

  She tugged hard on her hand. Too late. The elevator door had opened. He drew her through with him and punched their floor number.

  He leaned against the back wall of the cubicle as it began to move, his fingers soldered to hers.

  She stood very straight, outraged, indignant.

  “If you think I’m going to share a room with you after the things you’ve been saying, you’ve lost your mind.”

  “If you think you’re going back with your father or Longford, you’ve lost your mind.”

  “I didn’t summon my father here. You can ask him.”

  The elevator reached their floor, and the door opened. Roc crossed the hallway, digging in his pocket for his key. Only when they entered the room did he release her fingers at last.

  She walked farther into the room, giving herself some distance from him, and spun around. “I’m telling you—”

  “Don’t bother!”

  He leaned against the door, staring at her, feeling a dull ache burning in his stomach, his heart. She was still crying innocent. But both Davenport and Longford were just below, and both of them had always been interested in the Contessa.

  She admitted jumping into his net from one of Longford’s boats. And tonight the tall blond man had been just itching to get his hands on her.…

  “I’m not staying with you,” she told him quietly. She was standing very straight, her shoulders squared, her hair like spun gold tumbling around her shoulders, her eyes as bright as gems, her chin very high.

  He wished the fire that was ripping through him would burn itself out. He wanted so much to take back his words. He wanted to believe her.

  But he’d been burned badly before. He couldn’t take any chances.

  She’d done everything so smoothly. Arriving out of the blue—literally. Admitting she’d been on Longford’s boat. Swimming with him—just swimming—and finding the spoon. Then continuing to search and finding nothing.

  But now that she had her bearings … well, here they all were.

  He shook his head, staring at her. “You have to stay here,” he said flatly.

  “I wouldn’t stay with anyone who acted the way you have.”

  “Because you’re so innocent. Because you’re so anxious for me to lay claim to the Contessa.”

  “Because your behavior is horrible.”

  He was still lean
ing against the door. It seemed to be giving him strength. “You said that you’d stay here,” he reminded her.

  “I’m not going to my father or—or anyone!” she snapped to him impatiently. “I simply can’t stay with you after everything you’ve accused me of doing!”

  He swept his arm out, indicating the still tousled bed where they had found a few precious moments of abandon.

  “It’s yours,” he told her. “I’ve slept on numerous floors. I’ll just take the bedspread and a pillow.”

  “I don’t think you understand!” she exclaimed. “I don’t want to be near anyone who’s convinced that I’m such a horrible human being!”

  “And I don’t think you understand. You’re not leaving.”

  She whirled around, heading for the glass windows to stare out at the city below. “All right, Captain Trellyn!” she snapped, her voice as cold as dripping icicles. “Fine. I won’t leave this room. I’ll finish the entire search without saying a word to another living soul. But you just keep your distance from me, do you understand?”

  Keep his distance from her …

  When he already hated what he had started, when he was ready to give up the whole damned hunt just to have her again, with no need to hold her, because she would stay of her own free will, just to be with him.

  He felt ill, but stood straight, feeling very cold himself. So distant. That was what she wanted.

  The phone rang suddenly, jarringly. Melinda jumped, then stared at it without moving.

  It kept ringing.

  “I’m certainly not going to answer it and give away the great secrets of the deep!” she exclaimed.

  “Why not? It’s your father—or your dear friend Longford.”

  She didn’t move, so he crossed the room and yanked the receiver off the phone. “What?”

  “‘Hello’ is the more customary response,” Jonathan Davenport informed him lightly.

  “‘What do you want?’ is far more appropriate under the circumstances. Although I’m assuming I know what you want. To speak with your daughter. Well, I’m sorry. She can’t talk tonight.”

  Melinda was staring at him with a fury that promised to be explosive. Then he forgot about her, suddenly startled by Jonathan’s response. “Can’t talk to her, eh? Is she bound and gagged? Never mind, that wouldn’t be your style. I just wanted to make sure she was all right.”

  “She’s absolutely wonderful—for a woman wearing a gag.”

  “Why don’t you meet me for a drink?” Jonathan suggested.

  “Why?”

  “Maybe you’d be willing to give me a chance to talk to you. Maybe you’d even be willing to give me a chance to apologize.”

  Roc kept staring at Melinda, stunned. Old man Davenport wanting to apologize?

  It could be true. Maybe somewhere along the line he had decided that he had been wrong. Maybe he’d even told his daughter that he’d been wrong.

  “Yeah,” he said slowly. Melinda was stil staring at him.

  “There’s a small bar off the main lobby. I’ll be there,” Davenport told him.

  Roc replaced the receiver, still staring at Melinda. He lifted a hand to indicate the room. “It’s all yours.”

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, suddenly running after him as he headed for the door. Her eyes were suddenly anxious, the chill gone from her voice.

  “Well, I’m not going out to get into a brawl with your father. Is that what you’re worried about?”

  She fell silent, staring at him.

  “I won’t be gone long,” he said swiftly.

  He turned and exited the room with long strides, then leaned against the door once he had closed it behind him. He waited for a long moment, wondering if she would follow.

  But she didn’t.

  He found the bar easily enough, and Jonathan Davenport more easily. He was sitting on one of the bar stools—with Connie by his side.

  They made a startlingly attractive couple, both slim and blond, both tanned. Jonathan, of course, despite the fact that he looked damned good for his age, was still a more mature individual, with his bronzed face and craggy features. But Connie was laughing delightedly at something he was saying, glowing, her velvet brown eyes wide and bright. She was very pretty in the crimson dress that enhanced her pale hair and darker eyes. And Jonathan was a handsome man.

  Perhaps he needed to have been, to have something to do with the creation of his daughter.

  Despite the age difference—at least sixteen or seventeen years—the two looked good together.

  Then Roc scowled suddenly, wondering just what Connie was doing with the man. Where the hell was Bruce?

  Bruce was her brother, not her keeper, he reminded himself, admitting that his mood was raw, his temper still frayed. Only curiosity had brought him here. At least Melinda couldn’t go running out to talk to her father, since he would be talking to Jonathan himself.

  Which left Eric Longford, of course.

  And that called for a Scotch.

  He walked across the crowded bar and slid into the seat on the other side of Jonathan.

  Connie’s brown eyes went very wide. “Roc! I was just—I guess the two of you want to talk. I think I’ll take a walk through the lobby.”

  She leaped up, disappearing before either of them could protest.

  Roc ordered a drink swiftly, then sipped it, staring at his old friend and mentor. He looked good. And clean living, Roc decided, hadn’t done it.

  “Sweet girl,” Jonathan said lightly, referring to Connie.

  “Little young for you,” Roc commented.

  Jonathan shrugged. “Maybe. But I always thought interests and compatibility were more important than age.”

  Roc lifted his glass to Jonathan. “That’s because you’re aging,” he informed him.

  Jonathan laughed, not offended in the least. He ran his fingers up and down his beer glass, staring at the amber liquid. “So she’s bound and gagged, eh?”

  “You don’t want to run up and rescue your daughter?” Roc said.

  Jonathan shrugged, turning to stare at Roc at last, his eyes so like his daughter’s, determined. “That depends,” he said.

  “On what?”

  “Is it true that my daughter is still your wife?” Jonathan demanded.

  It was Roc’s turn to shrug. “Well, Davenport, I never divorced her. So if she never filed papers against me, then she’s still my wife.”

  Jonathan nodded. “Well, then …” he murmured.

  “Well, then what?”

  “Well, then—I’m not going to go up and rescue her. This is between the two of you.”

  Roc took a sip of his Scotch. “She was on one of Longford’s boats when she dived into my net, you know.”

  Davenport seemed to wince. “She does have that reckless streak in her.”

  “She wasn’t with you,” Roc commented.

  “Of course she wasn’t!” Davenport replied indignantly. “I would never have let her pull such a stunt, and she would have damned well known it. She must have wheedled Longford—” He broke off, maybe realizing instinctively just how Roc felt about the other man. He shrugged again. “Well, she hadn’t been with him long. We were in Miami together the morning before you called me, so they had just gone out on a day trip.”

  “I’ll give you this, Jonathan, you do make more of an effort to explain her behavior than she does.”

  “Well, she didn’t really know she had to explain her behavior, did she now? You two have been apart for a long time.”

  “It was her choice,” Roc reminded him.

  Jonathan nodded, his eyes downcast for a moment. “Her choice and my mistake then,” he said, staring at Roc again. “I was wrong—the find was yours. Even if the salvage should have been shared, the credit should have been yours. Maybe I was just so damned irritated that you could be so right—and against all the odds I quoted you. Maybe I just couldn’t believe that I could be so wrong. It’s late. Too damned late for me, really, but no
t for Melinda.…”

  Roc felt his heart thundering. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you said it was her choice back then. It’s her choice now, too, isn’t it? And she wound up on your boat, right?”

  “Coming from Longford’s,” he reminded Jonathan.

  “Maybe you should think about this, then. Longford was always attracted to her, and she never wanted to give him the time of day. She was always polite, and I won’t lie to you, we’ve been thrown together enough over the past few years. She’s still polite. A friend. That’s it.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Because my daughter’s bound and gagged up in your room,” Jonathan said cheerfully.

  Roc sat back, feeling a smile curve his lips, feeling as if the warmth of his Scotch had spread through his whole body, searing away the cold.

  “She was in a rather bad position, you know,” Jonathan said suddenly.

  “Pardon?”

  “Well, you put her in a rough position—a choice between her closest blood relative and the man she loved.”

  “She went for the relative,” Roc said lightly.

  “Well, there was a time when I was all she had. And, admittedly, I did do my best to sway her at the time.”

  “And now?” Roc asked.

  “And now, well …” His voice trailed away; then he finished his beer and looked at Roc again. “Well, now I was just relieved to discover that she was on board with you and not Longford.”

  “So you’d be swaying her in my direction?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “I’ve learned my lesson the hard way. I wouldn’t sway anyone in any direction.”

  “Then—”

  “She was in your damned boat, and she’s in your room now, right?” Jonathan demanded.

  “Bound and gagged,” Roc reminded him.

  Jonathan smiled. “I just wanted to let you know that a pigheaded treasure seeker was wrong once, and that I’m sorry. And that I hope you do find your Contessa. Although I hear you’re well under way.”

  “She did get in touch with you, then—” Roc began.

  “No.” Davenport shook his head. He indicated the now empty seat at his side. “Your crew member was telling me that my daughter brought up a spoon from the ship.”

  Connie. Hmm.