by Jo Leigh
“Of course we have salmon for Danny. But we’re also doing a filet mignon that…”
If she went into the bathroom and called for Mitch, would he come? Would he tell her what was going on? She doubted both. He clearly thought Babs had a way of getting to the room service people and that their plans from this morning were now history. What she couldn’t figure out was why he had brought it up if he didn’t want to be partners? He could have kept his mouth shut, and she wouldn’t have suspected a thing.
Just then, there was another knock at the door. Three times, bam, bam, bam. Boy, it was like Grand Central Station in here. She crossed the room and reached for the knob.
In a startling repeat of his past performance, Mitch leapt over the edge of the couch, opened the door and swung Bentley into his arms. His kiss was a repeat, too. No. That wasn’t right. It was more this time. More because she wanted it. Him. She felt her breasts press against his chest, his heartbeat rapid and urgent. Were they both insane?
She shoved him back and saw that it was her father at the door, and he’d witnessed the whole kissing business. Mitch turned to welcome him, but she caught his arm and pulled him back.
“What the hell is going on?” she whispered.
He blinked at her, straightened his back and somehow managed to look wounded and belligerent at the same time. “I’m just doing what you asked. Making sure your family believes I’m Carter.”
“They believe. So knock it off.”
“Geez, Bentley…”
“So I thought we were going to breakfast,” Dan said. “I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving,” Babs said. “Come in and sit down. I’m talking to Carter.”
Mitch slipped from Bentley’s grasp and joined Dan on the couch. “How you doing, Pop?”
“Very fine, Carter.”
“Can Bentley get you some coffee?”
“Don’t drink the stuff. I’m a juice man.”
“Ah,” Mitch said, staring at Bentley, smiling as if the whole thing were a colossal joke. “We were just talking about the wedding.”
“Didn’t look like it a minute ago. Looked to me like you two were half on your way to hitting the sheets.”
“Daddy!” Bentley flushed, very surprised to hear her father talk like that. He never mentioned sex. Ever.
“You know Bentley,” Mitch said, leaning back and adjusting his cushion. “She just won’t leave me alone.”
Danny laughed. Hard. As if that comment were a shared joke of long standing. She expected that kind of nonsense from Mitch, but not her father. How come he was so chummy with Mitch all of a sudden? And why did he feel so free to discuss her sex life?
“I thought you were hungry,” she said, trying hard to will her parents into leaving. This whole morning was going wrong, yet nothing had actually happened. Mostly she felt as though everyone else had gotten a script to study, and she was forced to ad-lib.
“Come on and sit down, honey,” Mitch said, patting the very small space next to him on the couch. “We’re in no rush.”
She started to tell him just where he could pat, but her folks had stopped talking, were staring at her, waiting for her to sit. “I’ve got to pick up,” she said. “It’s really a mess in here.”
“That’s what maids are for,” Mitch said. “Come on. Don’t be shy.”
“I’m not shy. I just don’t feel like—”
“Bentley,” her mother interrupted as she stood. “Join me in the rest room, would you?”
She didn’t want to. It made her nervous to leave Mitch out there with her father. Who knows what they would say? Probably discuss what she wore to bed. Or worse. But she followed. Babs could be insistent as hell, and Bentley was in no mood for a fight. At least not with her mother.
She stepped inside the small room, and Babs shut the door. Before she could say a word, her mother held up a stopping hand. “I know you’re not comfy with this, but I just want to say it one more time. You must try with Carter, dear. He’s a very lovely young man, and he’s mad about you. I know he wants to make this trip special by having you conceive a child, which of course would make your father and me very happy, but that won’t happen unless you loosen up. I read in Cosmo that stress is the number one cause of infertility among women your age, and if you don’t snap out of this funk, or whatever it is, you’ll never give me a grandchild, and that’s just not acceptable.”
Bentley knew her mouth was open, but she was too startled to shut it. She tried to think of something to say. Anything. How had her womb become the topic of the week? Why was she having this discussion with her mother? Why had she ever come to Hawaii in the first place?
“Promise me you’ll make an effort.” “An effort?”
Babs nodded. “To be nice to him. To try.” “Why don’t we just go at it now? Try to make things special and conceive that grandson while you’re here? I’m sure room service would send up breakfast. It’ll be cozy.”
Babs crossed her arms. “You just have to run to that sarcasm, don’t you?”
“I think the situation calls for a bit of sarcasm, yes.”
“I’m only thinking of you.” “No, you’re not. You’re thinking of yourself. Just like always. If, and that’s a very big if, I decide to have children, it won’t be to satisfy your wish for a grandchild.”
“You can be very cruel. Does Carter know that?” “Not yet. But the day is still young.” “Stop it. I hate it when you get like this.” “Then let it alone, Mother. It’s not your affair.” Babs sniffed, opened the door and walked out. It wasn’t Bentley’s proudest moment. But she was glad she’d put a stop to the grandchild business. It was all she seemed to hear about these days. Ever since she’d “married” Carter. Sometimes it felt as though her parents only wanted that from her. Nothing else. Just a precious heir, and of course, the trust fund.
The crazy thing was, she did want a child. Not as a gift to her folks, but for herself. She wanted a family, a nice house, a stable relationship. But not now. Her Pulitzer came first. And dammit, Colker just might be the one to give that to her.
A new determination swelled in her chest. She wasn’t going to let them rule her life. Not Babs, not her father and certainly not Mitch. He didn’t want a partnership? Fine. She liked working alone better anyway.
As for all that kissing—that would stop, too. It was all a joke to him. An amusing little parlor trick. Well, she was no dancing pony. She was flesh and blood, and she had feelings, too. If there was going to be kissing, she wanted it to matter. She wanted to matter.
She left the bathroom. Mitch and her father were still on the couch, and Babs was back on the edge of the bed. They all seemed to be having a dandy time. Mitch caught her eye, and while he started out looking cocky and smug, after a moment, his smile faded and he appeared concerned.
She went to the closet and started folding her nightgown, not willing to look at him. She hadn’t asked for his concern. It was probably as phony as the rest of him.
“Excuse me.” Mitch said as he stood and stepped over Dan’s legs. Something had happened in that bathroom. Bentley looked as though she’d been through the wringer.
“Hey,” he said, softly so only she would hear. “What’s wrong? What did she say to you in there?”
Bentley turned to him. She’d never looked more patrician, more like the daughter of Babs and Danforth Brewster of Boston. Like a woman who wouldn’t waste her time on a street rat like him.
“She didn’t say anything I haven’t heard before.”
“Such as?”
Bentley put the folded gown down on the suitcase. “Even if we were married, which is an idea that makes me want to join a convent, it wouldn’t give you the right to ask me that. Why is it that you people think my thoughts, and my body, are community property?”
“Whoa. Hold it right there.” Mitch left her and joined her parents once more. “Why don’t we join you downstairs,” he said. “Give us a few minutes.”
Babs nodded k
nowingly, and Dan looked pleased that he would be eating soon.
“Talk some sense into her,” Babs said, touching his arm briefly and speaking in a whisper. “Sometimes the girl doesn’t know what’s good for her.”
He nodded, but wished she hadn’t said that to him. She was Bentley’s mother. She should be on her side.
In a moment, they’d left. No goodbye to Bentley. Just one final look from Mom that told him a lot more than her words had.
“So, what’s going on, partner?” He walked close to Bentley, who’d moved to the bed.
“Partner? Oh, really?”
“Sure. I thought we had that all worked out.”
“We did. For about five hot seconds.”
“What in hell are you going on about?”
She picked up a pillow, then threw it back on the bed. “Don’t insult my intelligence,” she said. “You think I didn’t realize why my mother and father just happened to come by? That I didn’t notice you couldn’t wait to hear about the catering?”
Aha. Now he was starting to get it. “No, I don’t think you do.”
“No?” She turned on him with a blazing glare. “We are no longer partners, bucko. Not now, not ever. You have about as much integrity as a…as a…”
“Politician?”
“Don’t you get cute with me. I’m too angry for cute.”
“Nah. You can never be too angry for cute.”
“I’m warning you. Knock it off. Better yet, just go. Just go find Darren Colker and get your story and win your Pulitzer and leave me the hell alone.” Bentley swung around abruptly and headed for the bathroom.
Mitch raced her for it and won, blocking her entrance at the doorway. “You’re all wet, snookems.”
“Don’t call me that. Oh, you are the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.”
“Thanks, but let’s not get off track. I didn’t ask your mother to come up here to talk about the catering.
“Then why did you ask her?”
He reached behind her and knocked three times.
She furrowed her brow. “What?”
He did it again. Knocked three times. Then he took her by the waist and pulled her close. “This is why.”
He kissed her. If that had been all, it would have been enough, but it wasn’t. He ran his hand down her back, feeling the soft skin beneath her shirt. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and never before had he been so grateful for the differences between men and women. He tasted the faint hint of coffee and the sweetness of her mouth. More than all of that, he felt her respond. He felt her lean into him, conform to his hold. And when he brought his hand to her breast and cupped it softly, he felt her nipple stiffen and then he couldn’t think anymore.
Bentley was surely going out of her mind. She should push him away, tell him to go to hell, not to touch her ever again. He was an intruder, a thief, a devil in jeans, but oh Lord, the way he kissed.
She’d never felt this way before. She’d never felt her blood run so hot, her skin be so sensitive. He had found a hidden switch in her and turned it on, and she wasn’t sure, she had the power to turn it off.
Not when his kiss deepened and she had to back up to get support from the wall because she’d lost her equilibrium as well as her senses.
She heard a moan and realized it was her own. Then another, but this time it was Mitch, and he was touching her all over, setting tiny fires that burned out of control.
She ran her hands over his back, picturing the beauty and the strength of him through closed eyes. The strength that was at the bottom of her need, the very core. His confidence, his potency, his absolute certainty about who he was and where he was going.
All those things swirled between them, and she felt drunk with them.
His hand moved down her stomach, and she shifted her body so he had free rein. He took his kisses and moved them to the curve of her neck, and she gasped with the pleasure.
It wasn’t her, not her. She could never do this, not with him. He was Mitch, and he was so different in every way from any man she’d ever known. He was dangerous.
Dangerous.
She froze. “Wait a minute.”
He didn’t stop. His hands continued their exploration, and his mouth went on teasing her hot skin.
She moved her hands to his chest and pushed him away. “I said wait.”
“What?” His face was flushed, his dark hair tousled, and his eyes were still focused on her neck.
“You called them.”
“Huh?”
“You called my parents to come here.”
“Yeah? So?”
“You called them so you could kiss me.”
He smiled, finally seeing her, shaking off the spell that had transfixed them both.
“Good plan, huh?”
She pushed him further away and walked out of the bathroom. “What the hell is this, Slater? A game? Let’s score with Bentley as long as we’re here?”
He followed her out, nearly on her heels. “No. I just—”
“You just what?” She turned to him and crossed her arms over her chest. “The partnership is a business deal, Mitch. Nothing more. It doesn’t entitle you to conjugal rights.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the only person kissing in there.”
She blinked. “You surprised me.”
“The first time. There were no surprises in that bathroom just now.”
“I was upset. It had nothing to do with you.”
“Your nose just got longer, kiddo.”
“I am not going to have this discussion with you. For God’s sake, we work together. We have to go back to the office, and we’re not going to be partners back there, remember? This is a onetime, never-to-be-repeated experiment, a nd that’s it. Once we’re back home, kiddo, you’re the competition. Period.”
“So? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Are you and I having the same conversation?”
He moved toward her and she backed up. Touching him was clearly the big thing to avoid. It wiped all clear thinking from her brain.
“I’m not asking you to get married here, Bentley. It’s just a weekend. A great weekend, but that’s it.”
“That’s all I am to you? A one-night stand?”
“Four nights, actually.”
“What!”
“What? All I’m saying is that I’m here, you’re here, and I have to say you look really great, we’re already roommates, and damn, I kinda like you, Brewster. That’s the kicker. I’m having a fine old time here. You’re a big part of that. Besides, it’s Hawaii.”
She didn’t believe what she was hearing. The nerve, the arrogance. It was all so out of bounds that she couldn’t remember how to talk. Finally, after what seemed like five minutes, she shook away her amazement and could speak again. “You’re unbelievable.”
He grinned and straightened his back. “Thanks.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Sure it was. You just don’t know it yet”.
“There is no way in hell I’m going to sleep with you, Slater. Got that? I don’t care if you are having a fine time. It’s not going to happen.”
“Sure it is. You just don’t know—”
“Stop.” She went to the dresser and got her purse. “Don’t say anything. I’m not going to listen to this for one more second.”
“But—”
She covered her ears with her palms. “I can’t hear you.”
“Hold it.”
She started singing. “This Old Man.” Loudly. It worked. She didn’t hear him anymore. She went to the door and exposed one ear as she reached for the knob. “This old man, he played—”
A knock, a big one, scared the wits out of her and she jumped back. Then came another knock. Then one more. She turned to Mitch.
“That should be Aunt Tildy,” he said, grinning foolishly. “And Uncle Arthur is due in about five minutes.”
“Kisses? You want kisses?” She flung the door open. Ther
e was Tildy, all right. The old woman stood there, sturdy as a tree trunk, her cane held aloft, ready to strike. Bentley noticed briefly that she’d forgotten her teeth again.
“There you go,” she said to Mitch. “She’s here. You’re here. She likes you. Besides. It’s Hawaii.” With that, she swept past her startled aunt and walked away.
She heard his laughter all the way down the hall.
Chapter Nine
Now that she was in the lobby, Bentley wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do with herself. It was crowded, like the night before, but this time there was an even greater feeling of tension in the air. Or was that just her?
No, the wind had picked up again, and since so much of the hotel was open-air, the staff had tied huge sheets of canvas around the entrance and, she discovered, around the bar. The rattle of the canvas was as disconcerting as the sound of the wind itself. It made her think of flapping sheets on a clothes-line—a really big clothesline.
The natives were more than restless in the bar. Laughter splintered all around her; shards of noise whipped loudly past her, only to be swallowed in the wind. Bentley checked the area for family or friends. She didn’t want either right now. She wanted a quiet spot, a cool drink, and it wouldn’t hurt if her waiter was a cute cabana boy. But quiet was clearly out of the question. She even had serious doubts about the cabana boy. The cool drink, however, was just a matter of elbowing a few ribs to get to the bartender.
She went past several tables, then barreled into the packed crowd at the bar itself. It wasn’t easy. Evidently, more than one man felt it was his duty to pinch her behind, and although she spun quickly— well, as quickly as she could with five bodies pressed against her—she didn’t catch the culprits. She wished she had. It would be nice to have a reason to punch someone in the nose.
Finally, she got to the bar. It would be a wait, though, as the bartender was all the way on the other end making something in the blender. She kept getting pushed, hard, from behind. Her stomach was smashed flat, and her breath kept escaping in a whoosh. But she kept the vigil.
It was good to have so much going on around her. It kept her from thinking about what had taken place upstairs. For heaven’s sake, what had happened to her? Why did she let him get to her?