Strangely, she never questioned why she felt he was there above her, watching. She just did. She knew that he paced in his control room above the casino, and she sensed his eyes on her, like a warm breath across her skin.
The fact that he was observing her from behind a one-way mirror made her feel exposed, unprotected, and it was a feeling she hated above all else. But she dealt with the vulnerability he was opening up in her as she always did—with absolute control over her body and her mind.
As was her way, she never went into any situation blind if she could help it. Before she had come to the Isle of Charron, she had researched the island, the casino, and the man who owned both. She had learned a great deal, but not all.
Nicholas Charron was a mysterious man. It was known that he was an American expatriate, but exactly what he had done from the time he left America to the time he bought the Isle of Charron was shrouded in mystery. However, over the last five years he had developed an island resort and casino like nothing Australia had seen before, especially on the Great Barrier Reef. They called his casino and hotel complex Charron’s Glass Palace—like everything else on the island, his name was attached, whether he intended it to be or not. As a result, the Isle of Charron had gained an international reputation among jet setters and high rollers. They came to spend money, to have a good time, and if possible to see Nicholas Charron.
Speculation ran high, and extraordinary things were whispered about him. He had an aura that was as dark as the night, and to the thrill-seeking gamblers, his mystique was as big a draw as his casino.
But he never came down onto the casino floor, and only rarely did he invite anyone to his suite at the top of the resort complex. Unless...
People talked and word spread. She hadn’t been on the island more than a day, when an excited lady she had encountered on the beach had told her that sometimes Nicholas Charron would stand in his control room above the casino floor and scan the action below him to choose a woman for the night.
Sydney had watched women do things she knew were calculated to attract the attention of the dark man everyone talked about but very few ever saw. Somehow she had known the women wouldn’t be successful. Somehow she had known it was she he watched.
She was being pursued by someone who couldn’t be seen, only felt, but Sydney refused to give in to the agitation that ran through her veins with a singing excitement. She had to keep her mind on her purpose for being in the casino. Since she had been on the island, she had carefully studied the action of each of the games, and tonight she had chosen craps to observe. It was a fast-paced game, and the chances of winning large amounts of money seemed good. Wondering about the odds, she opened her purse and pulled out a small calculator.
Within the space of a few seconds two men stood on either side of her.
And watching from the control room, Nicholas Charron reached for the phone.
One man was big and muscular and had a face so grooved and pitted, it looked as if it had been pulled straight off the side of Ayers Rock. The other man, an Oriental, was short and wiry with flat black eyes that stared at her without expression.
It was the larger of the two men who spoke. “I’m sorry, miss, you’ll have to come with us.”
There was something inherently threatening about these two men that caught Sydney totally off guard, and her heart constricted in fright too quickly for her to suppress it. “B-b-but why?”
“You’ll have to come with us to the security office. No one is allowed to use a calculator in the casino.”
Sydney was furious with herself. It was the first time in a long while she had stuttered in front of a stranger, and it was her own fault. If she hadn’t been so absorbed in thought about the mysterious owner of the casino, she would have seen these men coming toward her and prepared herself to confront them.
She waited until she was sure she had her nerves under control, and she would be able to speak calmly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I’ll put it away.”
The man’s hand closed on her elbow as he prepared to urge her forward. “Come with me, please.”
A courteous man, she thought. A dangerous man. She wasn’t going anywhere with him.
“Excuse me, Miss Delaney?”
She whirled to find yet another man. This one was tall and good-looking with brown hair and green eyes, and incredibly he was smiling at her. “Miss Delaney, my name is Mike Nolan. I’m Nicholas Charron’s chief of security. Mr. Charron would like to see you.”
Confused, she glanced around, searching for the other two men, but they had vanished. “Look, Mr. Nolan, what’s all this about? If it’s the calculator, I’m sorry. I won’t use it again.”
Mike Nolan’s smile remained the same, charming and easygoing, but Sydney suddenly realized that he was even more dangerous than the other men.
“I’m sure Mr. Charron will be glad to hear that. Now, if you’ll allow me”—he took her arm and began guiding her through the crowd— “I’ll take you to him.”
Allowing didn’t enter into it, and she knew it, Sydney reflected, not so much alarmed now as she was annoyed. She couldn’t afford any delays in accomplishing her goal, and if she was about to be asked to leave the island, that would certainly throw a spanner into the works. There had to be some way out of the misunderstanding.
“Where exactly is it that you’re taking me?” she asked as Mike Nolan halted before a set of black stainless steel doors and inserted a key.
“To Mr. Charron’s suite.”
The doors swished open, and they stepped into a lift. The doors closed, sealing her and the strange man by her side off from the comfort and familiarity of the crowd in the casino.
A trickle of alarm reentered her system. Along with curiosity. What kind of man would he be, she wondered, this man who had the power and wealth other men could only dream about? On his island he had fashioned a world to suit him, and within his world his power was absolute. For better or for worse, she was about to come face-to-face with Nicholas Charron, and much to her irritation, her heart was pounding at the prospect.
Three floors above ground level, the lift glided to a stop, the doors opened, and Sydney was facing the silent sanctuary of the owner of the Isle of Charron. A gentle push at the small of her back propelled her forward into the flowing expanse of the room. When she heard the doors close behind her, she wheeled, but the tall brown-haired man was no longer there. Amazing, she thought, how these men kept appearing and disappearing. Slowly she turned back to the room and began to walk forward.
She was truly lovely, Nicholas thought, watching her. Exquisite. Instinct had told him that she wasn’t like the women he usually summoned to him, and he had been proved right. When she had first looked up and seen his men on either side of her, his theory had been confirmed. Her expression had changed from composure to fear. For an instant she had looked so defenseless that something like pain had twisted inside of him. To his mind, it hadn’t seemed right that the first strong emotion he saw on her face should be fear. So he had called Mike.
The room, shadowed in dark drama and built on several levels, registered in Sydney’s mind as a complete picture. Subdued indirect lighting was enhanced by gleaming surfaces and two mirrored walls. The other two walls were windows that seemed to carve a great space out of the midnight sky beyond and bring the night and the stars inside. Set about the room, tall white candles burned, their pale golden flames reflecting out from the dark windows and smoky mirrors, so that the flames appeared suspended, floating in the night. The sofas and chairs were rounded, their sensuous lines and curves covered with a pearlescent suede in a color that was somewhere between gray and black. On a beautifully carved table a crystal swan on a mirror lake.
The room was breathtaking, Sydney thought, but she couldn’t shake the strange sensation that she was making her way through a rain forest, being stalked by a predatory animal.
She shrugged away the thought. Imagination could be a powerful thing. Too powerful. Judging th
at she must be in the center of the room, she came to a stop.
“Good evening.”
She started at the deep voice. She hadn’t even seen him, yet there he was! He was standing on a level above her, in front of a window, and for a moment she couldn’t separate him from the night. They seemed as one.
As she had trained herself to do, she waited a beat before answering him. “Good evening.”
Three long strides brought him down to her. “Thank you for coming.”
“Did I have any choice?’
His mouth curved with humor. “Not really, but I won’t apologize. I never apologize. Can I offer you something to drink?”
“No... thank you.”
Like everything that surrounded him, his hair was dark, but candlelight picked up glints of silver that threaded through the black hair like streaks of moonlight. Sydney mentally shook herself. He was a man like any other. She had to stop equating him with the night. And she simply had to move away from him.
But his eyes were hypnotizing her. Dark brown, they appeared to have caught the flame of the candle as he looked at her. He was tall, lean, overpowering, and the formality of the tuxedo he wore emphasized his exotic appearance. But most disturbing of all, his masculinity seemed to generate an energy that she felt surrounding her. She had to remind herself that that couldn’t be.
“Please, let me get you some refreshment. I have an excellent white wine I think you would like. It comes from my vineyards in the Barossa Valley near Adelaide.”
Please, he had said. Like his men, he was extremely polite, but if she had thought they were dangerous, it was because she hadn’t met their employer yet. He redefined the word.
She almost stuttered, but caught herself in time. “No. Thank you, anyway.” If she kept her answers short, she would be okay.
“Then would you care to sit down?”
She chose the sofa because it was closest, and, as she did, noticed that the table in front of her was made of pale gray granite, probably from the Black Mountains near Cooktown.
The colors and textures of the room were a manifestation of the man—dark, hard, cool. Sydney was sure he hadn’t needed a decorator. She imagined that he had just walked into the room, and it had taken shape around him.
As a result of her fantasizing, when he brought his long length down beside her, she was unprepared. His nearness enveloped her, and she could do nothing but wait for him to tell her why he had summoned her to his aerie.
She moved her head, and as the candlelight caught in her hair, suddenly the depth of tone Nicholas had seen on the monitor was explained. At first glance it appeared brown, but when the light touched it, her hair reflected the rich plum tones of a fine wine. “Are you enjoying your stay?”
The small talk was beginning to get on her nerves. “Very much. You have a beautiful island, Mr. Charron.”
“Please, call me Nicholas... and I’ll call you Sydney.” When she made no comment, he continued. “Yes, the island is beautiful. I hope you’ll be able to take full advantage of all our facilities while you’re here.”
She would have liked to have probed to discover why there was such a sardonic tone to his voice, but at the moment there were more important things to find out. “Mr. Charron, why have you had me brought up here?”
He bent his head to light a long brown cigarette, but he kept his eyes on her. “I wanted to meet you.”
“You wanted to—then this isn’t about the calculator?”
His mouth moved into what could have been a smile, but she wasn’t sure. “You should have known better than to take out a calculator in full view of everyone, including my security men.”
“I didn’t know.”
“What didn’t you know?”
She could tell from his tone that he was amused. She had a deep-seated dislike—born out of a sensitive child’s stutter—of being the source of anyone’s amusement, but she forced herself to remain calm. “I didn’t know that using a calculator was forbidden in a casino.”
He took a draw on his cigarette, then exhaled a long stream of smoke, all the while observing her closely. “We have to take precautions against persons using a system.”
“I wasn’t using a system. As a matter of fact, I have yet to place a bet.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve watched you.” He smiled, because from the expression that passed briefly across her face, he could tell she hadn’t thought he would admit it. And he smiled as he imagined his fingers weaving through the cascading waves of her luxuriant and soft hair. “You obviously aren’t a professional gambler, Sydney. Do you know anything at all about gambling?”
“I’m learning.”
Now that she was beside him, Nicholas could examine her skin closely. It was as if velvet had been put into a blender, whipped into a creamy froth, then poured over her, like icing. He wondered what creamed velvet would taste like.
His scrutiny had her clasping her hands tightly to still her nerves. “I didn’t need to use the calculator anyway. It was just a crutch.”
“Really? You didn’t need to use the calculator? Tell me, then, what’s the integral of X to the K power DX?”
“X to the K plus one power divided by K plus one, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Except when K equals minus one.”
With her next heartbeat she realized she shouldn’t have answered him. He obviously knew as much, if not more, mathematics as she, or he wouldn’t have asked the question.
“What are you, Sydney Delaney?” he asked very softly. “Who are you?”
“I’m a guest at your resort, Mr. Charron, who’s going to win a great deal of money from you.”
He ground his cigarette into a crystal ashtray. “Really? How much?”
“Five hundred thousand dollars.”
He didn’t even blink. “Are you now?” Delicately, as a man might touch a shimmer of light from a moonbeam lest it dissolve beneath his hands, he stroked his fingers down the side of her throat. “I must be very careful not to bruise you.”
Beneath his touch, heat surged within her. In her throat, words died.
His fingers moved to her lips and began outlining their soft shape... over... and over... and over. “Why do you want to win so much money, Sydney?”
She had declined his offer of wine, she thought hazily, but he was intoxicating her with his resonant voice, speaking caressing words that vibrated like a violin string within her. She knew if she spoke she would stutter and thus reveal the need welling inside her, so she remained silent.
“Do you gamble for the thrill of it?” His finger lingered in one soft corner of her mouth. “Or do you have a habit you’re supporting—a man, a drug, a lifestyle?”
Feathering across the fullness of her bottom lip, his fingers seared her skin. Involuntarily her mouth opened. “Of the three, I hope it’s a lifestyle—his head began to lower toward her mouth— “because I couldn’t allow you to be that involved with another man.”
She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t move. With smoke-textured words and a touch like fire, he was capably drawing her into a supersensory, black-velvet-lined realm where she could see only him, feel only him.
“And as for drugs,” he murmured, “if you’re going to be addicted to anything, it should be to me.”
His words came to her with the heat and passion of a midnight wind, and his mouth closed on hers with such gentleness, she was disarmed, with such power, her usual command of her emotions was undermined.
She was being pulled into a morass of sensuality, and she was having trouble fighting against it. His tongue skimmed hers, then came back again to savor and to taste. Her blood heated, desire raced.
No matter what, she told herself, no matter how, she mustn’t yield. Yet the pressure of his lips was increasing, setting off tiny bursts of fire all through her body. And his hands were on her back, sliding over her bare skin caressingly. Don’t give in, she order
ed herself. Don’t give in!
Nicholas felt her resistance and ended the kiss. Pulling away, he regarded her with curiosity. The kiss had moved her every bit as much as it had moved him, he knew. Yet she hadn’t surrendered completely. She had withheld her deepest response. Why?
Even now her eyes shimmered as if she were recalling their brief moments of shared passion. He, too, remembered, but he wanted more than moments. Much more. “Sydney Delaney,” he murmured, “I don’t know what’s going on inside of you, but soon enough I will. Bet on it and you’ll win.”
“I—I—I must go,” she said, coming to her feet, hoping he hadn’t caught the stutter.
He stood also. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
She shook her head. “I—” She drew in a deep, relaxing breath. “I’ll be busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Nicholas, there’s something you should understand. I didn’t come here to enjoy myself. I came here to win a great deal of money, and that’s going to take all my time and concentration.”
He watched as she turned and walked to the lift. He waited until she pressed the button. Then he softly called, “Sydney?”
The doors opened before her, but at the sound of her name she looked over her shoulder.
He smiled. “You obviously think that I could cut into both your time and concentration. Thank you.”
For a moment he thought she would say something, but she didn’t. She entered the lift, and as she waited for the doors to close, she stood erect, her slim, gently curved body perfectly poised. Then the doors whooshed closed, and Nicholas was alone.
But in his mind the image of Sydney Delaney burned. And on his lips the taste of her lingered. And deep inside him his desire for her knotted.
Two
All her life Sydney had awakened early, first on Killaroo Station, and then when she had moved to Brisbane and taken the position with the bank. But last night she hadn’t gotten back to her room until three, and she hadn’t fallen asleep until five. Consequently, for the first time that she could remember, she had slept until noon.
Sydney, the Temptress (The Delaneys of Killaroo) Page 2