Holiday in Jamaica

by Tracy Sinclair

  Erin struggled to free herself from the enveloping robe, but he reached out and pinned her arms to her sides, looking deeply into her eyes. "If you didn't satisfy me, I would have fired you long ago."

  "I'm sure of that," she said acidly.

  "It's too bad you're so sure about everything without knowing anything. Certainly not about life or love."

  "And of course you're an authority," she flared. "On love, anyway."

  "I know enough to go looking for it, which is more than I can say for you," he replied simply. "You're like a little china doll straight from the toy store in its original wrappings, untouched by human hands—or emotions."

  Her hair was drying in the warmth of the car, and it formed a misty autumn haze like a halo around her pale face. He looked into her wide blue eyes, as turbulent now as twin ponds ruffled by a violent storm.

  "You're incredibly beautiful," he said, tracing the line of her soft mouth with a gentle forefinger. "Like a sleeping beauty waiting to be awakened. Would a' kiss do it?"

  With a quick intake of breath, she drew back, but it was useless. His lips found hers in a lingering kiss that sent her pulses racing. How could she turn her head away when his mouth was claiming hers over and over again, draining her willpower and making her long for more? But Erin knew she had to make the effort.

  "You've never been kissed like that before, have you? Is that what frightens you?" His hand stroked the nape of her neck before slipping inside her thin dress to caress first her bare shoulder, then the soft curve of her breast.

  She uttered a small cry of protest and sought to free herself, but he held her easily.

  "Don't struggle, my darling. Wake up and live! I won't hurt you, I promise. Let me touch you; let me teach you about paradise." His eyes were almost hypnotic, and, looking into them, she could indeed glimpse a kind of Eden.

  When he drew her close, his mouth claiming hers hungrily, Erin returned his kiss with a small moan of submission. Sweet fire swept through her veins, carrying away the last of her resistance. His taut body no longer had to command her to respond; she relaxed willingly in his arms.

  Her surrender produced a change in Jason. He held her tenderly now, kissing her eyelids and her temple. "My little doll," he murmured, "I waited for this so long. Sometimes I thought—but you're mine now, aren't you? I knew you would be if I was just patient with you."

  The words were like a bucket of cold water in her face. It sounded like he was proclaiming a victory. But of course! Everything had gone exactly according to plan. She was just another conquest in an endless chain, and he didn't even bother to hide the fact! He was gloating because she had submitted willingly when the time was ripe. All he had to do was wait for the right moment. Oh, how could she have been such a fool? Even forewarned, she had become his prey. He was truly a pro at this sort of thing, but at least she had come to her senses in time.

  With a superhuman effort born of shame and anger, she pushed him away. "I suppose you're very proud of yourself, aren't you? Well, let me tell you this—you're the most despicable man I've ever met, and I hope I'll never see you again as long as I live!"

  "Erin, you don't—" He reached for her, but she eluded his grasp.

  Tears of frustration filled her eyes as she flung open the car door. "And if that doesn't penetrate your colossal conceit, let me put it this way—I quit!"

  Without a backward glance, Erin ran up the walk and into the small white cottage. Dimly, she heard Jason's car thunder away into the distance, the motor snarling like a thwarted animal. It barely affected the chaos in her mind. Her lips still bore the imprint of his ardent mouth, and she scrubbed at them with the back of one hand, trying to erase him from her life.

  He must be the devil incarnate! For just a moment he had made her feel so cherished that she believed he really loved her. How he must be laughing right now! It didn't matter that she had come to her senses in time. He had made her melt in his arms, and that meant he had won the game. Because that's all it was to him, a battle of the sexes.

  Erin was so caught up in her own agonized thoughts that she didn't even hear the sounds coming from the kitchen. Bob's voice startled her from the nightmare.

  "Erin, is that you? God, I'm glad you're home! I've been going crazy waiting for you," he said.

  He appeared in the small living room and she was shocked at his appearance. He looked like he had aged at least ten years since this morning.

  "What's the matter?" she cried, frightened out of her own misery.

  "I—I'm in a jam and I don't know where to turn. I have to talk to you about it."

  "What kind of a jam?" He looked so awful that her heart contracted in terror.

  Instead of answering directly, he said, "I've been all over town. I thought I could… well, you sure know who your friends are when you're in trouble." His tone was suddenly aggrieved.

  "Bob, what is it? What's wrong?"

  He buried his face in his hands, and his voice was muffled as he said, "I've been such an idiot. I don't even want to tell you about it."

  "It's all right, darling. This is Erin, remember? You can tell me anything." She put her arm around his bowed shoulders and smoothed his hair, wanting to make it better, whatever it was.

  He hung on to her desperately and said, "I knew I could count on you, Sis. You've always been in my corner, haven't you?"

  Erin was almost in tears. "You know I'd do anything for you, Bob, but you still haven't told me what's wrong."

  "I've got to raise some money right away." His voice was tense again.

  "Money?" It was the farthest thing from her mind. She had been imagining all kinds of dire disasters and, for a moment, couldn't quite comprehend what money had to do with anything.

  "Yes, ten thousand dollars."

  Erin turned white. "You must be joking!" One look at his face told her he was serious, and that made it even worse. It might as well have been a million. "You know I don't have that kind of money —it's a fortune! What could you possibly need it for?"

  He sighed and lit a cigarette with a shaking hand. "It's a long story, but I'll try to make it as short as possible. It all started at Jason's Christmas party, remember?" As if she could ever forget, Erin thought, and waited for him to go on. "I met this real cool character who was spouting off about how only peasants had to work for a living. He said the really smart people lived off their investments. We hit it off really well, and he asked me to have lunch with him and then… well, one thing led to another." He spread his hands out helplessly.

  "But I don't understand. What does this have to do with ten thousand dollars?"

  Bob looked down and examined his fingernails. "This guy told me he was making a fortune in the commodities market and asked if I wanted in on it. The way he explained it, it sounded like an absolute sure thing."

  "What is the commodities market?"

  "It has to do with grain and pork futures, things like that," he said vaguely. "Anyway, I scraped together a few hundred dollars." He avoided her eyes, and Erin remembered last month's rent and how she had to pay the whole thing because he said he had an unexpected expense. "At first everything was great. The market went up, and I thought I was going to make a killing."

  "And then?"

  "Well, then it went down, and I owed money to cover because I had bought high." Erin was having difficulty following this, but he rushed on before she could ask any questions. "I was going to sell out and take my lumps, but this guy told me not to be a chump. He said it was only a temporary thing and now was the time to plunge—really buy heavy because the market was bound to go back up. So that's what I did, but it went even lower and I was wiped out."

  "But Bob, where did you get the money to do all this?"

  There was anguish in his voice as he said, "Erin, you've got to believe me—I meant to put it back. I was sure the market would recover and nobody would ever know. And I swear to you that once I got my original investment back, I wasn't ever going to do it again."


  Fear clutched her heart with icy fingers as she whispered, "Where did you get the money?"

  He buried his head in his hands once more and his voice was tortured when he said, "I borrowed it from the office."

  "How could you do that?" she cried.

  "I told you I meant to return it. And I would have, too, with nobody the wiser if…" His trailing voice seemed to be filled more with self pity than remorse.

  "No, no, I mean how could you take that much money without anyone finding out?"

  "Oh… well, the books… there are ways. But that's not the point right now. The point is, you have to help me. You're the only one who can."

  "What can I do? You know I don't have that kind of money."

  "No, but you could talk to Jason—you know, sort of soften him up and plead for time. I think he kind of likes you. After all, he didn't make you his secretary for nothing."

  Erin drew back in horror. "You're not suggesting…"

  He grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her a little shake. "I'm your brother! Do you want to see me go to prison? He'd understand if you explained it to him, and it isn't like I'm asking for anything except a break. I swear I'll pay back every cent. I just need time."

  It crossed her mind to wonder where he expected to raise that much cash, but it was all academic; she didn't think he would have a chance to try. Remembering the terrible scene over the man who was discovered taking kickbacks, Erin's eyes widened with fear for her brother. That man was lucky, he was merely fired. But Bob… Would Jason actually send him to prison? With a sinking heart, she knew he would.

  "You've got to talk to him tomorrow," Bob was pleading, "before they actually discover it. It will look better that way."

  Suddenly all her own troubles came back to her. Remembering the scene in Jason's car, she put her hand to her mouth. "Oh, Bob, I just quit my job not ten minutes ago!"

  "You what?" His tone was explosive.

  Erin explained the circumstances, pleading for his understanding, but he was too caught up in his own misery and fear. "You've got to apologize and ask him to take you back. It's my only chance."

  The very idea was repulsive. At first she flatly refused, believing that it would be futile in any case, but Bob was desperate. He painted a graphic picture of what would happen to him, and Erin knew better than he that it was accurate. In the end, it wasn't his pleading and cajoling that turned the trick; it was the very real specter of a jail term. She agreed to go back and intercede for him, but without any real hope.

  "I'll do what I can but I have a terrible feeling that Jason Dimitriou is going to extract his pound of flesh," she told Bob, not knowing how prophetic her words would be.

  By the time Erin got to work the next morning, Jason was already in his office, frowning over some papers on his desk.

  She stood diffidently in the doorway and he looked up, staring impassively at her. "What are you doing here? I thought you quit. Something about never wanting to see me again, wasn't it?" he remarked sarcastically.

  "I—I'm sorry. If I could just speak to you for a minute."

  He glanced down at the papers and said, "Perhaps I can save you the trouble. Does it have anything to do with your brother?"

  The blood coursed through her pale cheeks. "You know?"

  "I know," he answered, his mouth a grim line.

  "Oh, but please, before you say anything, please let me explain. He didn't mean to—"

  "Why are you doing the explaining? Where is Bob?" he cut in.

  "He asked me to talk to you. He thought maybe—"

  Again he interrupted her. "He thought he'd hide behind your skirts and maybe I'd go easier on him. Well, it won't work. You can tell that little con artist I'm going to throw the book at him and enjoy doing it. What kind of man would send a girl to do his dirty work?"

  "You don't understand," she told him desperately. "He isn't really like that. It was a terrible thing to do, I'll grant you, but he isn't really bad. He's just young and impatient and he wants so much. You wouldn't know how it feels because you've always had everything you wanted. If you send Bob to jail you'll ruin his whole life, and that won't do you any good. Please—won't you let us pay you back instead?"

  "Do you know how long it would take to repay ten thousand dollars?"

  "I'll work for half pay," she cried, sensing a weakening. "I'll do anything you say."

  He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, regarding her insolently. "Anything?" he asked in a silken voice.

  Her cheeks flamed as Jason's eyes wandered over her slender body, sending a chill of apprehension up her spine. But she nodded her head and said in a low voice, "Yes… anything."

  "Well, now, that's very interesting. It just might provide a whole new solution. You said that I have everything I want, but that's not true. Suppose I were to tell you I want you?"

  Erin clasped her hands tightly. He couldn't be saying what it sounded like! Even he couldn't be so unprincipled as to take advantage of a situation that was beyond her control. Moistening her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, she waited for him to go on.

  "I have a proposal to make." His eyes were watchful and told her nothing. "I have a house in Jamaica, and I'd like to take you there for a week. It's beautiful this time of year. I think you'd enjoy it—if you let yourself. How about it?"

  "You mean… just the two of us?"

  "I wasn't planning on including brother Bob," he said drily.

  That made it clear enough, she thought hopelessly, her mind spinning wildly, trying to find some other answer. But looking into his predatory eyes, Erin knew she was Bob's only chance to stay out of prison. Could she possibly go through with it? He was utterly ruthless, she knew that. She had already felt his mouth crushing her lips with its urgency, but could she actually allow him to…

  Jason got up and walked around the desk, as menacing as a falcon swooping in on his prey. He gripped her elbows lightly, sliding his hands up her arms and under the short sleeves of her blouse.

  "Well, what's your answer?" He was very close, and she could almost feel the steady beat of his heart.

  She put her palms against his chest in a panic and cried, "I can't!"

  His hands gently massaged her shoulders as he blew a damp curl off her forehead. "You'd rather let Bob go to prison?"

  "You wouldn't!" she said, but without conviction, searching his face for compassion that wasn't there.

  "You know I would," he said, his arms closing inexorably around her.

  Despondently, Erin gave up the struggle and leaned wearily against him. There was no other way and she knew it. He had beaten her once more. When Jason tipped her face up to his, she closed her eyes so he wouldn't see the tears in them.

  Chapter Three

  When the plane landed in Kingston, there was a chauffered car waiting to drive Jason and Erin to Ocho Rios, that playground of the rich on the other side of Jamaica. In spite of herself, Erin's spirits rose. This was foreign soil, after all, and she had never been outside her own country before. The British accents were intriguing and the secret patois of the natives, extremely exotic.

  Navigating through the narrow streets of Kingston was an experience in itself. It was Saturday, and the flea market was in full swing. As their long limousine inched its way through the throng, Erin was fascinated by the sidewalk stands full of brightly colored merchandise and the scores of Jamaicans spilling over into the streets. At times it seemed their car would surely decimate half the population, but the crowd parted cheerfully before them and regrouped, unconcerned, as Erin assured herself by looking out the back window.

  Her head swiveled from side to side in order not to miss anything. She was so absorbed in the local color that she was unaware of Jason watching her indulgently.

  When they finally reached the edge of town, a new panorama spread out before her delighted eyes.

  Steep wooded mountains rose up ahead as the car started down a narrow twisting road, and the dense green foliage enfol
ded them in a tropical jungle. Erin was enchanted until an old pickup truck rounded a curve ahead and seemed to come straight at them at high speed. A collision appeared inevitable, and she instinctively moved closer to Jason. He put a comforting arm around her as the truck rocketed back to its own side of the road at the very last minute and passed them safely with a merry beep of its horn and much laughing and waving by the native passengers.

  Ashamed of her momentary panic, Erin moved away from the safety of his embrace. He made no objections, but his warm hand closed understandingly over her small clenched fist. He said, "Don't worry, it's only a little game they play. They know every inch of this road and they're really good drivers."

  "They would have to be!" Erin gasped, and clung tightly to Jason's hand all the way down the hairpin-curved road.

  At the bottom of the mountain, the scenery changed to picture-postcard beauty. A calm blue ocean lapped at sparkling white sands, and leafy green cocoanut palms completed the Caribbean color scheme. Here and there, a modern luxury hotel dotted the landscape, but it was mostly dominated by huge private mansions sprawled over acres of carefully tended ground. It was in front of one of these that their car stopped after traveling down a wide graveled driveway.

  The long, low house was set like a jewel in the middle of lush green lawns decorated with beds of multicolored flowers, and Erin's eyes widened at the sight. In its complete seclusion, it looked like a modern pink palace, a hideaway for royalty.

  While Jason helped her out of the car and the chauffeur was getting the luggage, the front door opened. It wouldn't have surprised Erin to see a uniformed footman appear, but what she actually saw surprised her even more. Lounging in the doorway with a glass in his hand was Brad Honeywell!

  "Welcome, welcome. I thought you two would never get here." He saluted with his glass.

  Jason reacted as though stung by a bee. His eyebrows drew together in a mighty frown and he said, "What the devil are you doing here?"

  "That's a fine way to greet a good friend." Brad was all injured dignity.