She exited through a small side door and found herself in an outdoor museum. The large rectangular court progressed into a long open-air corridor leading to two flights of steps. Occupying positions of prominence were several modern sculptures of different sizes and styles, casting free-form shadows in the brilliant afternoon sunlight.
A lush oasis of palms ended the sculpture garden, and a flagstone path led her between two enormous banyan trees to an open expanse of lawn bordered on two sides by stately royal palms. The lawn culminated in a swimming pool decked by multicolored Spanish tiles. A charming Venetian pavilion at one end.
Cara bent and fluttered her fingers in the pool's azure water, finding it cool and silky to her touch. Perhaps she would swim here instead of the ocean. That way, she wouldn't encounter Alec—or Tandy—again.
She stood and shielded her eyes against the low setting sun. Someone, a gardener perhaps, was tending a bed of red and white petunias. She thought she saw a high fence beyond and decided it was a tennis court.
The little man by the petunias looked up as she passed. "Good afternoon," he said, straightening. His words were accented and his face when he smiled produced a maze of wrinkles. "You are Ms. Demorest, I presume. I am Otto Waldheim, Ingrid's husband."
Cara instinctively liked this little, wizened man, though she couldn't imagine a more unlikely couple than the plump housekeeper, Ingrid, and Otto, who was as skinny as a stick.
"Please call me Cara. I've been admiring the gardens," she told him.
"I'm glad you like them," he said with enthusiasm. Then it was as if a cloud passed over his face. "But you know, of course, that it is all finished. When they build the condominium, the gardens—the pool and all of it—must be destroyed. What you see here will become a giant parking lot."
Cara was horrified. "Oh, no! All this beauty..." Her voice trailed off as imagined the lush vista gone forever.
Otto shook his head sadly. "Once the collection is cataloged and removed, the bulldozers will move in. Then many years' work will be destroyed. Let me show you my pride and joy while it's still here."
They began to walk side by side, Otto pointing out various tropical plants. Cara's head reeled with the exotic names he recited—litchi, golden rain tree, hibiscus, oleander, bird-of-paradise. Finally Cara asked him how long he'd lived at Xanadu.
"Thirty-five years," he said proudly. "And Ingrid also. We live here year 'round, of course, but in the winter season when Mrs. Martyn entertained, we employed many workers. I would hire ten gardeners just to take care of this place. Now it is only me and part-time help." He indicated an open flower bed, devoid of plants now. "We would buy new plants—chrysanthemums, petunias—every few weeks and give away the old ones. Mrs. Martyn always wanted everything to look fresh and new. If she were alive, she would be very sad to know Xanadu's fate."
They arrived at the tennis courts, still carefully maintained. Cara saw that the net stood in place, ready for a game. It struck her as ironic that Conn Grandolf s pleasure dome had been doomed by its very nature to become out of date, a castoff. Even the very rich, Cara thought wistfully, could no longer afford the life-style Conn Grandolf had created.
Later, at Otto's insistence, she joined him and Ingrid for dinner in their cheerful apartment behind the main kitchen. Afterward they drank coffee in the tiny living room while Otto and Ingrid regaled her with stories about the famous people who had visited Xanadu. As she listened to their animated recounting of the old times Cara felt nostalgia for days gone by, and she wished she had seen Xanadu in its heyday.
She left Ingrid and Otto at nine o'clock when their politely concealed yawns reminded her that their work day began in the early hours. After she reached her room, she succumbed to sudden whimsy and decided to try out the swimming pool.
She slipped on her bikini and threw a long, hooded white beach robe over it. The sculpture garden was quiet now, the sculptures fading into the shadows. The air hung tropic soft, freshened by the breeze from the ocean. She made her way between the distorted aboveground roots of the banyans and came out upon the lawn.
The moonlight touched the pool with silver, capturing the stars above and holding them fast on the rippled surface. Cara shivered at the sensual feeling of the robe sliding to her feet, poising for a delicious moment on the Spanish tile before she dived in. It was such a clean dive that she barely made a splash, and when she curved to the surface she struck out for the opposite end of the pool.
She was swimming her return lap when she was startled by something—someone—diving in beside her. She stopped swimming immediately and stood up, her feet barely touching the bottom of the pool.
It was unmistakably Alec. His slow, steady crawl took him to the end of the pool, where he executed an expert turn and rose from the water to face her. The moonlight made sequins out of the water droplets in his hair and lent his skin an iridescent sheen.
"You frightened me," said Cara.
"Oh?" he said, his expression verging on sarcastic. "I only wanted to see if you could really swim."
"Alec," she said, resenting his needling, "why don't you leave me alone? Obviously you don't like me. We might as well avoid each other and save ourselves a lot of annoyance."
Alec's eyes burned into her with the intensity of a blue flame. His nostrils flared as he leaned closer. "On the contrary, Cara Demorest, I like you very much."
Cara was taken aback by this declaration. "You certainly have strange ways of showing it. Besides," she added because she couldn't help herself, "this afternoon it appeared that you had quite enough to like behind the windbreak."
"Did I?" He touched her wet hair. "How do you know what I like?"
Cara regretted this line of conversation. She flicked a spray of water at him with her thumb and forefinger. "Guess I don't. One of us needs to get out of the pool, Alec. It's going to be me."
"Before you do, let's try something," he said.
She looked at him askance, but before she could think of a clever retort, he pulled her close, bent his head over hers, and kissed her on the mouth. When that happened, clever was no longer within her reach.
It was a sensual kiss, slow and lingering and entirely confusing. His arms clasped her to him, and his warm skin pressed against hers beneath the starry surface of the water. She wanted to pull away and yet she didn't, and she found herself responding to him with a white-hot fever she had never felt for anyone else.
When she was entirely breathless his lips released her and she twisted away, but not before she saw the unabashed desire in his eyes.
"Now you know what I like, Cara Demorest," he said.
She would have preferred to be able to say that now that she knew, she didn't care. But that wouldn't have been true. At the moment she was not only titillated by his kiss but curious about what would happen if she'd wrapped her legs around him and let nature take its course. It was a notion that she needed to ban from her brain before it made her stupid.
Without a word, but after a long glance that was meant to be off-putting but only ramped up the intimacy between them, she plunged deep underwater to quench the unfamiliar fire in her veins. When she surfaced, she swam with clean, strong strokes to the steps at the end of the pool.
But Alec had reached the steps before she did and stood in the waist-deep water regarding her with an amused half-smile.
"You're beautiful with moonbeams streaming off your hair," he said, reaching toward her and letting the liquid silver rivulets trickle through his fingers.
More than ever, Cara felt achingly aware of Alec's forceful masculinity. She pushed his hand away, staring at him, before she climbed the steps to the pool deck, conscious of his gaze upon her body. In one swift motion she leaned down and snapped up her beach robe, slipping it over her head in haste. Then she was running silently over the long lawn, fleeing from Alec and an attraction that she didn't understand.
When she dared to glanced back over her shoulder, she saw him standing in the pool, his arms crosse
d on the tile and staring after her. She thought she saw the white gleam of his teeth as he smiled.
Chapter 3
The telephone's ring tone interrupted Cara as she rummaged through the small walnut desk in Blake's office where she'd set up Command Central for her inventory project. Blake had asked her to answer it and take messages if she was around when it rang, so she rushed to scoop up the handset.
The voice on the other end was scratchy and querulous. "Let me speak to Blake."
"He's not in now. May I take a message?" Cara couldn't help but be annoyed by the caller's discourteous tone. Suddenly a raucous screech emitted from the phone and Cara held it out from her ear, staring at it in consternation.
"No, Coco, no, little darling, here's your banana."
"I beg your pardon?" Cara was nonplussed.
"Tell Blake to call me tomorrow," said the voice, and amid a flare of static, the connection was broken.
"Good heavens," Cara said out loud. With a shrug, she snapped her laptop shut, then realized that she had no idea who had called. The caller hadn't left her name. In fact, the only indication of identity was that someone on the other end of the line was named Coco. Well, she'd tell Blake about the incident, and perhaps he would know who it was.
Later, Cara was working in the last storage closet off the dining room. She was so engrossed in listing crystal stemware hat she jumped with surprise when she heard a step behind her.
"Are you enjoying your work?"
Cara looked up and saw Blake. He was casually dressed, and his expression was interested and attentive.
"It's a pleasure to be working with so many fine things."
"I've just come from the airport and wanted to remind you not to forget to inventory the china and glassware on the yacht. Did Ingrid mention it?"
"No, she probably forgot."
"The yacht's moored at our dock on the lake. Otto will take you there."
"Good. I'll ask him about it. Anything else?"
"Nothing that I can think of at the moment," said Blake. Then, as an afterthought: "I suppose you've seen the rest of the house?"
"Only the gardens, but not the rooms upstairs. Except for my own, which is lovely."
"You mustn't work so hard. Since you haven't seen it already, a tour is definitely in order. Do you have time now?"
Cara considered the idea. "I'd welcome a break."
"Come," he said, and he held out his hand to help her from her kneeling position near the bottom shelf.
They ascended the curving staircase. "Let's begin with the north wing," he said. "It's been closed off for the past several years." He led her from room to room, pointing out the valuables in each, often outlining a brief history of an item. Cara saw silk-draped bedrooms, cavernous bathrooms, and a score of elegant sitting rooms.
"Xanadu is like a fairy-tale castle come true," she said when they had at last paused to admire the view of the orange grove from a seat in a windowed alcove high above the gardens.
"Conn Grandolf was a clever guy. He knew the effect he wanted and planned the setting for every collectible you see in the house. Of course, some things—for instance, the sculpture garden—were added by my mother. But the house is as Conn Grandolf left it."
Finally he pushed open a small door and led her up a narrow circular staircase to an observation room below one of the slender minarets. From this vantage point, automobiles below looked like tiny toy cars. Beyond them to the east lay a slender ribbon of golden sand bordering the sea.
Cara swept her gaze over the grounds of Xanadu. From her position she could see it all, a vast expanse of blue and gold and green reaching from the lake to the ocean. It was a picture-book vista, dazzling in intensity. And if what Otto said was true, the scene before her would soon cease to exist.
"It's sad," she murmured softly. At that moment she felt herself to be entirely attuned to the ethereal magic of Xanadu.
"It's beautiful," corrected Blake, looking down at her. The sunlight bleached his silvery hair almost white.
"It's sad because it's beautiful. I can't believe that it will all be destroyed."
Blake's lips set in a grim line. "The house is out of date. The plumbing is atrocious and the wiring is a fire hazard. As it is now, only a few people in the world can enjoy this view. When there's a condominium here, all the people who live in it will be able to see the sight you see right now. Is that so bad?"
"They won't see what I see. They'll look to the west toward a black asphalt-paved parking lot. That's not anyone's idea of beauty."
"Then you're one of my critics?" Blake's tone was smooth, almost unctuous.
"I'm your employee."
"Employee or not, you're entitled to your opinion. You're obviously an opinionated woman—and also a lovely one."
He moved closer and she felt his breath upon her hair. He tilted her face upward until she could look into his eyes, which were a shade of gray so light that they mirrored the color of the sea below.
Slowly his face moved toward hers. He reached out and drifted his fingers lightly down the line from cheekbone to jaw, loosening a tendril of hair from her scarf. He laid it carefully against her cheek and loosened another one on the other side.
"That's much better, much softer," he said, his voice almost a whisper. He leaned toward her, wrapping her in his strong arms, and his mouth covered hers.
Blake was attractive and she knew she should be responding, but she felt detached, as though she were watching two strangers going through the motions. There was none of the hot breathlessness she had felt with Alec, none of the sheer magnetism.
His lips felt cool, and Cara thought distractedly of the crushing heat that had accompanied Alec's kiss. An unbidden picture surfaced behind her closed eyelids: Alec beside her in the starlit swimming pool, the blue fire behind his eyes as he bent his head closer, closer for her kiss—
"This is moving along a little too fast," Cara said, easing herself from Blake's arms.
"Cara, I've wanted to kiss you since I first saw you sneaking past the doorway in those baggy blue jeans," he told her.
His words brought Cara back to reality, and she was so surprised that she turned and gawked at him.
"Don't act so astonished. Did you think I was blind to your beauty?" His expression was bemused, and she didn't realize how much he'd caught her off guard until he was kissing her once more.
In the moment, all she could think is that if she tried hard enough, if she worked at it, maybe kissing Blake could erase Alec's image. She couldn't for the life of her imagine why she thought of Alec while she was in Blake's arms. There was no explanation for the attraction she felt for Alec, especially with Blake Martyn kissing her as passionately as anyone ever had. Or almost, anyway.
Blake pressed his cool lips to her eyes, her ear, her throat, then sought her mouth again and held her until she was dizzy. But within her body there was no answering throb, no quickening pulse. Finally she pulled gently away.
"I should get back to work. I have a job to do," she said.
"So do I," Blake replied. When she looked into his eyes, it occurred to her that there was a hidden meaning behind his words, and suddenly she felt unsure. What did he mean? Why were his lips smiling but his eyes so cold?
He made no further objection to her leaving, and she eased around him toward the door. She felt his gaze on her back as she descended the spiral staircase alone.
* * *
It was at breakfast on the following day that she next saw Blake, and to her surprise Alec was there, too. The three of them sat down together in the small sun room off the kitchen, Cara unavoidably comparing the two Martyns. She kept her lashes lowered, not wanting to reveal her surreptitious scrutiny by a too-long look, a careless glance.
Cara found the mood surrounding the breakfast table increasingly awkward. Blake attempted conversation with her, but because of the scene in the tower the day before, she was guarded and noncommittal. Alec seemed to be watching both of them and replied t
o any comments with monosyllables.
Cara mistakenly thought the atmosphere would improve when Alec finally entered the conversation.
"Your trip to New York—was it a success?" he asked Blake.
"I'd say so," Blake said, his tone neutral.
"Then the sale is settled? Marquis Development is definitely buying Xanadu?"
Cara went on alert. From what Blake had said, she'd thought the sale and eventual destruction of the estate were a certainty.
"The Marquis Development Corporation has committed. It's largely a matter of signatures."
"But there's still time?"
Blake fixed Alec with an impatient stare. "Alec, we've been through this before. The sale to Marquis is progressing. There's no way we can stop it now. Let's not talk about it anymore. I'll be in my office." Blake pushed back his chair and stood. "Cara, come to see me later. I have details I want to discuss." He walked rapidly away, his step jaunty.
Alec leaned back in his chair, frowning.
"I thought the destruction of Xanadu was definite," Cara commented, hoping to salvage some of the morning's conversation.
"Blake wants people to think so. My brother, the high-powered wheeler-dealer." Alec laughed without amusement. "He's bound and determined to get this white elephant off his hands."
"He says the plumbing and wiring are out of date."
"He's right, but they can be repaired. Let's face it—Blake would sell his own grandmother to make a dollar."
"That seems harsh."
"Is it? The reason I've been fighting to save this place is that it's the only estate like it in the entire world. I want to see it made into a state museum."
"Is there a real chance that Xanadu could become a museum, or is it just wishful thinking?"
"I've been negotiating with the state, hoping they could find the money to buy Xanadu. Blake is the executor of our mother's estate, though, and he refuses to lower his asking price or give the state an extension of time to raise the money. Unfortunately, Marquis Development can come up with the money immediately."
The Beach Bachelors Boxset (Three Complete Contemporary Romance Novels in One) (The Beach Bachelors Series) Page 36