by Ginna Gray
"He didn't. That is... Oh, all right, yes. I did sleep with him. I mean, I didn't sleep with him, of course," she said in a rush, blushing scarlet.
Travis wasn't helping matters any. Sitting on the stool next to hers, he lounged back against the bar, grinning, and observed her discomfort with an unholy twinkle in his eyes.
"What I mean is, we shared the bed, but nothing happened. It was all perfectly platonic."
Travis snorted, and his eyebrows shot skyward. His mocking look challenged her claim and made her squirm. Rebecca tried to ignore him but she felt heat spread over her neck and face as her blush deepened.
"Uh-huh. Travis McCall, the sexiest hunk to ever fill a pair of jeans, lies side by side with a beautiful woman all night without laying a finger on her. Yeah, sure. I buy that," Erin drawled. "And donkeys fly."
"Now, Erin. If Rebecca says—"
"I'm telling you, nothing happened. I swear it."
Travis leaned forward and yelled into the receiver, "Don't you believe it. We made mad, passionate love all night long."
"Travis/" Rebecca slapped at his shoulder and tried to push him away but he laughingly fended her off and kept right on.
"It was fantastic. The sex was so hot we nearly set the boat on fire."
"Ohhh! You...you..." Words failed her, and finally, in desperation, she twisted around on the stool, turning her back on him, and cradled the receiver between her ear and her hunched shoulder. "Don't pay any attention to him. He's teasing. You know Travis."
"Yes, we certainly do," Erin concurred. "I'd like to speak to him, please, Rebecca."
"Oh, but-"
"Don't worry. We believe you. Travis is not the kind to brag. If he had made love to you he'd be as closed-mouthed about it as a clam. I just want to have a word with him is all."
Relieved, Rebecca swiveled back around and handed him the receiver. "They want to talk to you."
Travis's teasing had created an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. Needing to put distance between them, she slid off the stool with all the nonchalance she could muster and went to one of the rattan sofas, curling up in the corner with her feet tucked under her.
Grinning, Travis watched her and leaned back, elbows propped on the counter. "Yeah, Cuz. Shoot."
"Don't tempt me, Travis," Erin warned.
"Hey! Lighten up, will ya? It was a joke."
"Yeah, well you take care with Rebecca. You hear me?"
"You can quit worrying on that score. You'll be happy to know that Rebecca and I have finally cleared things up between us. We're friends now."
The statement met dead silence at the other end of the line. Finally, in a pleasant voice laced with steel, Erin drawled, "As I said, dear cousin. You take care with Rebecca."
"Meaning?"
"That we know you, Travis. There isn't a snowball's chance in hell of you remaining 'just good friends' with someone like Rebecca. Before you start something, you'd better think it over carefully. We don't want her to end up as your latest 'girlfriend of the month.'"
"Hey! I resent that."
"Tough."
"Erin's right, Travis. If all you want is a lighthearted affair, then leave her alone. Rebecca has been hurt enough."
The real concern in their voices sobered Travis. He knew that divorce was always painful, but this sounded like more than just incompatibility or irreconcilable differences.
"Would you mind explaining that?"
"We already told you, Travis, we can't betray her confidence. Just remember what we said and take care with Rebecca."
The warning came through loud and clear, and aroused his curiosity all the more. Travis glanced at Rebecca. In the past, the twins' fiercely protective attitude toward her had always baffled and angered him, but after spending the past two days in her company he understood it. There was something about Rebecca that inspired protectiveness. She put up a good front, but under that calm control there was something fragile about her. Something sad and wounded. Like a baby bird with a broken wing.
"Oh, all right," he agreed finally. "I swear, you don't have a thing to worry about on that score. Now, tell me..."
Listening to Travis cajole his cousins out of their ire, Rebecca looked on in amazement and reluctant admiration. Through all the years she had known him—as a barefoot, sweaty-faced little boy, a gangly adolescent, a cocky teenage heartbreaker, and now as a mature man in his prime— he had used that easygoing charm and devil-may-care self-confidence to his advantage. It had disarmed teachers and adults, endeared him to other males, captivated old ladies and enslaved young ones. No doubt, it had gotten him out of many a tight situation during his years as an agent, as well.
His appeal was magnetic and potent and thoroughly disarming. The man ought to be required by law to wear a warning label stamped on his forehead, Rebecca mused wryly. Beware, may be hazardous to female hearts.
Travis hung up the telephone and turned to her with a self-satisfied air. "That was a close one, but I think the terrible twosome is off our backs. For a while anyway."
"No thanks to you," she said tartly, but her voice lacked heat and she knew it. It was difficult to be angry when faced with dancing gray eyes and that outrageous grin. She, it seemed, was no more immune to his allure than any other female. "Honestly, Travis. Whatever possessed you to say those things?"
"Hey, I was just trying to help." Unrepentant, he sauntered toward her with that hip-rolling gait, and Rebecca's mouth went dry. He bent down, bracing his hands along the back and arm of the sofa. "With every word you were digging yourself in deeper. I gotta tell you; sweetheart, you don't lie worth spit."
"I didn't lie!"
Those chiseled lips tilted up in an outrageously sexy smile. From beneath heavy lids, his glittering eyes mocked her. "Honey, we may not have made love," he murmured in a raspy voice. "But to claim that nothing happened between us is a bald-faced lie. You know it and I know it. And I'm pretty sure, from the way you were babbling, that Erin and Elise know it now, too."
' "Travis, you promised—"
"That I'd be your friend. Yeah, I know. And I will. But, honey, there are all kinds of friendships. And the feelings that you and I spark off each other are anything but pla-tonic." His hot gaze roamed her face, inspecting each individual feature before settling on her mouth. Rebecca watched his pupils expand, his nostrils flare, and her heart lurched. "You wanna know the truth, I don't think they ever have been," he whispered.
Rebecca could not have moved or said a word had her life depended on it. Their faces were only inches apart. She could feel his breath feathering over her cheek. Trembling, she stared at his eyes, half-concealed behind those incredibly long lashes, watching him watch her.
At last, with apparent effort, he tore his gaze from her mouth and looked into her eyes, and she felt a bolt of white hot fire sizzle through her.
Rebecca's heart pounded like a wild thing in her chest. She had only to lean forward a couple of inches and their lips would touch.
She was tempted. Travis McCall was the embodiment of every girlish dream she'd ever had about love and romance, and though she knew it was foolish, a part of her still clung to those fantasies. Even so, life had taught her harsh reality. Caution had become an ingrained response, fear instinctive.
For a short while—a few hours or days or weeks, maybe even for the rest of the summer—if she let him, Travis could make her forget, could blot out the rest of the world and the troubles of the past and the ones that waited. She could indulge herself and wallow in a sizzling summer affair with the man who had unknowingly held her heart for most of her life. It would be wonderful, she knew, a dream come true, a balm for her shattered soul. Except... Rebecca suspected that when it ended she would be worse off than she was now.
Caution and fear won out, and she leaned back. Trying for a light touch, she made a face. "Travis, for heaven's sake. This is absurd. You can't just go from feeling antagonistic to... to amorous in the space of just a few hours."
"You wouldn't think so, would you? But there it is. Go figure." He leaned closer and she jerked back.
"Travis!" she warned, fixing him with a stern look.
"Oh, all right, spoilsport. Have it your way." His eyes glinted with mischief and sensuous heat. Before she realized his intent, he hooked his hand around her nape, pulled her to him and planted a quick kiss on her parted lips.
Rebecca came up sputtering. "Travis McCall! You cheat. You promised to behave yourself," she accused, but he had already sprung away and the remarks were addressed to his bare back as he sauntered around the counter into the kitchen.
He shot an innocent look over his shoulder. "That wasn't cheating. Good friends kiss and hug all the time." He winked. "I'm a demonstrative guy, so you'd better get used to it."
Blinking, Rebecca stared at him, not quite sure how to respond.
Travis opened the refrigerator and bent over to inspect the contents. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving," he said, changing the subject with an ease that confounded her even more.
The comment hung in the air, unanswered. Rebecca felt suddenly awkward and uncertain. It occurred to her that she had no idea where they went from there. She and Travis were on friendlier terms now, but that didn't necessarily negate the rules they had mapped out the first day.
On the boat they'd had no choice but to share meals, but things were different on shore. Tram had made it clear from the beginning that he liked his privacy.
Deciding that the safest approach would be to abide by their arrangement, Rebecca stood, murmured a quiet goodnight and headed for her room.
It was his night to use the living room. By rights, she was supposed to have first turn in the kitchen, but she felt awkward about pointing that out. Besides, she wasn't all that hungry. She could come back for a late snack when he'd gone to bed.
"Hey! Where're you going?" Travis demanded before she'd taken three steps.
Pausing, she turned and gestured feebly toward the right wing. "I, uh...thought I'd turn in. I mean...since it is your night to use the living ro—"
"Forget those rules. Good grief, Rebecca, how could you possibly think they still applied? If we're gonna be buddies, you're gonna have to loosen up a little, babe."
"Travis," she began hesitantly. "I'm glad that you've changed your mind about me. Really, I am. But... well... that doesn't mean I expect you to put up with my company all the time. I don't want to impose."
"Sweetheart, believe me, you won't. If anything, I intend to take advantage of you."
Rebecca started, and Travis grinned at her suddenly wary look. "You see, I can't cook for sour apples, and since you can, I was sorta hoping we could work out a new arrangement."
Relaxing, she tipped her head to one side and looked at him askance, getting into the spirit of the exchange. "Oh, really? And just what did you have in mind?"
"Simple. We share all meals. You do the cooking, and I clean up afterward."
"Wash and dry?"
"Yeah, sure. No problem."
A smile hovered around Rebecca's mouth. She was tempted to point out that with a dishwasher, cleanup was hardly onerous, especially since she was a cook who usually washed up as she went along, but she held her tongue. She truly enjoyed cooking, and the prospect of having Travis's company at every meal was a pleasant one. It wouldn't do, though, to let him know that. "Well... I suppose we can try it for a while."
"Great." Travis rubbed his palms together, his expression comically expectant. "What's for dinner?"
* * *
Mealtimes were far from the only occasions Rebecca was treated to Travis's company. After the fishing trip, he seemed to take it for granted that they would spend their days together.
The prospect held enormous appeal for Rebecca, perhaps too much so. For that reason, she at first attempted to demur, but Travis blithely brushed aside all her excuses. Before she knew it, her halfhearted defenses crumbled and she let herself be swept along by his teasing charm. After the first few days she gave up even the pretense of resisting his suggestions.
As the summer days rolled on in lazy succession, she and Travis savored each one to the hilt, doing whatever struck their fancies. They swam and snorkeled in the turquoise waters, they picnicked on the beach, they went sailboard-ing and they water-skied and surfed. A whole day was spent circling the island on Erin's dune buggy, investigating all the coves and beaches.
One day, on Alhaja Verde, Travis talked Rebecca into going up in a hang glider pulled by a speedboat. The ride turned out to be the most thrilling and heartstopping experience of her life, and the most embarrassing, given that she landed smack-dab in the middle of a beach volleyball game. She bowled over a half-dozen people, upset their net and became so entangled in the webbing it took half an hour to extricate her. Travis, of course, found the whole episode vastly amusing.
Together, she and Travis strolled through the market in San Cristobal, visited the ancient ruins of a bygone civilization and the island's new undersea aquarium. When they had sampled all that Alhaja Verde had to offer, they toured other, less developed islands in the chain.
One day when a rainstorm kept them indoors, they played endless games of gin rummy and Scrabble, and Rebecca discovered that Travis's easygoing air hid a competitive streak a mile wide. They argued like children and taunted one another unmercifully, crowing over victories and pooh-' poohing defeats as intentional or insignificant.
Travis was good company. He was always pleasant and, in his own teasing way, even gallant. In deference to her, he had even shaved off the scruffy beard. "Can't have that pretty skin of yours marked up with whisker burn," he had quipped by way of explanation.
He was an outrageous flirt and, as he had warned, completely uninhibited about expressing his feelings. In passing, he often gave her shoulder a squeeze or touched her hair, and when they walked together, he casually held her hand or draped his arm over her shoulders. Often, while she was cooking, he would come up behind her and smell her hair or make growling noises while he pretended to bite her neck. He thought nothing of giving her an affectionate hug or kiss whenever the spirit moved him, whether they were alone or out in public. However, though he often gave her searing looks and made suggestive remarks, he never followed through oh them.
If at times, in response, Rebecca's heart skipped a beat or she got that crazy woozy feeling in her stomach, she ignored it. Travis was a charmer, but a woman would be a fool to take him seriously. Besides, she was enjoying herself too much to let anything spoil the the enchanted interlude.
He was good for her, she realized with a faint sense of shock. Her worries about facing Evan and her father were never far from her mind, but with Travis she could push them aside for short periods and relax.
Around him she could just be herself and not worry about having to please someone else. She didn't have to watch every word she said or walk on eggshells for fear of setting him off. He was undemanding and funny and affectionate, and just being around him was healing. He made her laugh, he made her enjoy life, he made her content. He made her happy.
Of course, it couldn't last. This was just an idyll, a space out of time, and when summer ended they would go their separate ways. Rebecca accepted that. In the meantime, however, she was determined to live every moment to the fullest.
Accordingly, she pushed aside the occasional fleeting thought that perhaps it was unwise to spend too much time in close company with Tram and entered wholeheartedly into whatever activity he suggested.
One morning after a leisurely, late breakfast he proposed that they spend the day exploring the interior of the island. Rebecca thought it sounded like fun and agreed without hesitation.
Hours later she found herself struggling up a narrow animal trail, huffing and puffing and mentally lambasting herself.
I must've been out of my mind to let him talk me into this, she groused silently. Although, she supposed she should have been prepared. In the past two weeks she had learned that for all his lazy, laid-ba
ck air, the more strenuous or exciting or difficult an activity was, the more Travis liked it.
They had been climbing the forested mountain for over four hours, and her calf muscles were beginning to cramp. She was tired, she was thirsty, she was hungry, she was sweaty and grubby, and she was fairly certain that she had blisters on both feet.
Much to her annoyance, a few yards ahead, Travis marched along as though he were out for a leisurely stroll. Rebecca glared at his broad back with something close to active dislike. It wasn't fair; he wasn't even breathing hard. Glancing back, he paused and held out his hand to her, his expression one of amused indulgence. "C'mon, slowpoke. We're never going to get anywhere at this rate. You're gonna have to hustle it, woman."
"Hu-hustle my...f-foot." She stumbled a few feet closer and accepted his assistance, letting him pull her up the rest of the way. "Tra-Travis. I have to re-rest a while."
"Rest! C'mon, sugar. Why, we haven't covered but four or five miles. That's just a good stretch of the legs."
"On the be-beach, maybe. Cli-climing a mountain, it's pure tor... tor... torture. Travis, I—"
"Shhh. Listen," he said, cutting her off abruptly. Alert, he stood perfectly still. "Do you hear that?"
"Wh-What?" Rebecca tried, but all she could hear was the rasp of her labored breathing and her own heartbeat booming in her ears.