by Sue Swift
“Thank you. It changed everything.”
“My mother did not survive my birth. I suppose I was the death of her.”
“So you…” She lifted an eyebrow. “Who raised you?”
“My father, the king, of course, with assistance from relatives. Though I must admit that nannies and maids did most of the work.”
“Interesting,” Selina said, thinking that because Kam’s early contacts with women were all with servants, he’d developed the attitude that females were inferior, objects for his use or amusement. That made a lot of sense, considering his reputation.
He grinned. “My mother left me an unusual legacy, though. My name, Kamar, means moon in the language of my people. Denya is named after the earth. I suppose I am fated to orbit my brother.”
“A fanciful woman. My name also means the moon.”
“Another connection between us. Tell Hunter that we are clearly destined to be together. That is the kind of detail National Devourer readers, um, devour.”
She chuckled. “How come you know so much about her readers?”
“Never mind that. We were talking about you, weren’t we?”
Her jaw tensed, but she said, “After my father died, my mother remarried a, well, a dog.” Rage thickened her throat, and she swallowed. “He tried to rape me when I was fifteen.”
“How? How could your family allow that?” Kam grabbed her hand.
Selina really didn’t want Kam freaking out about it. She shrugged, trying to fake flippancy. “One day I was watching television and studying. It was in the afternoon, and I got drowsy. I lay down on the couch and nodded off. I woke up when there was this weight on me, and it was him. He was lying on top of me, sticking his tongue down my throat and ripping at my jeans.”
Kam said something in Arabic that sounded really nasty. “Go on.”
She wiggled her fingers to loosen his painfully tight grip. “Well, I, um, kneed him where it counts, if you know what I mean, and scratched and bit. I wasn’t really hurt, but…”
“You were hurt. He hurt your female soul and scared the passion out of you.”
Her spine snapped straight. “I’m not hurt and I’m not scared. I’m selective, that’s all. You got a problem with that?”
“Of course not.” He drew back, but didn’t release her hand. “What happened after that despicable dog of a stepfather, may his entrails rot while he still lives, touched you with violence?”
“This is really the worst part.” She fiddled with Kam’s fingers. “My mother threw me out.”
“What? Why!”
“She chose her husband over me.” With effort, she kept her voice flat.
“A most unnatural parent.”
Selina shook her head. “She had a new baby, and she couldn’t face what would happen if she left. She’d be a single mom with a teenager and a newborn. That would have been tough.”
“Stop making excuses for her.”
“I’m trying to forgive her.”
“Some acts are unforgivable.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I think that what made it worse is that I wasn’t a particularly attractive child.”
Kam lost his frown, and one brow lifted.
“No, really. I was one of those redheaded, tubby kids with freckles and baby fat. So I never had a boyfriend or anything, and all of a sudden, when I turned fifteen, I got all this male attention. It felt like, you know, fake.”
“You’re a beautiful woman.” Kam’s tone was prosaic. “Men are attracted to beautiful women.”
“But I wasn’t beautiful inside, you see? I didn’t know that.”
“Do you know that now?”
“I…I’m not really sure. Sometimes I feel like that same lost kid, you know, missing her father, distrusting her mom and afraid of her stepdad.”
“No child should have to live with fear.” Kam’s fists were clenched, his muscles tight.
She touched him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s over. It’s been over for years.” She rubbed his shoulder until the sinews beneath her fingers relaxed.
He shrugged. “If you say so. When was the last time you saw your mother and her husband?”
“Audra, my mother, brought my little brother to the graduation ceremony when I finished business school. He—Nicky—was about six, and the cutest little boy. They ate dinner with Grandpa Jerry and me. But it was weird, because, well, I didn’t have anything to say to my mother, and Nicky acted as though I was a stranger, not his sister. He’d heard about me, but we hadn’t seen each other since he was a baby.”
“Have you since seen your brother?”
She sighed. “Every once in a while. He’s only eight, so he can’t travel alone to D.C. to see us. When he turns ten, Jerry and I plan to ask my mom if she’ll let him visit every couple of months.”
“Have you seen the stepfather?”
“No, he’s smart enough to stay away. Jerry had once told him he’d beat him up if he ever saw him again.”
“Intelligent of your stepfather to take that threat seriously. In the place of your father, it is your grandfather’s duty to protect your honor.”
She gurgled with laughter. “I suppose you could say that.”
“So, I gather that when your mother made you leave, you went to live with Jerome?”
“Yeah. I went to a police station, and they brought Donald—my stepfather—in for questioning and called Jerry. Donald denied everything, of course, but they made him go into a treatment program. I never went back, though. Grandpa Jerry’s taken care of me ever since.”
“He has done a fine job.” Kam’s voice warmed. “You are an amazing person, Selina. See why I call you a goddess? You are so beautiful, so normal and healthy, even after what you have been through.”
“Thanks.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure that she was really normal or healthy, but she felt that she’d revealed enough of herself for one day.
“Let’s walk some more.” He gently tugged her hand, and when she stood, he draped his arm over her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. “Yours is a sad tale.”
She pursed her lips. “I guess so, but I’m lucky. He didn’t hurt me physically. I had somewhere to go. A lot of teens in my situation don’t have anyone. They end up on the streets, pregnant and alone.”
“Now much is clear to me. I will respect your boundaries. Until you are ready for me, I will not push you.”
“What do you mean, ready?”
He stopped and pulled her close, until his hard, hot body pressed against her. “I think you know exactly what I mean.”
She lost her breath. “I, uh, I… You mean, you want me, but I have to—”
“Exactly. You have to. Not me.” Releasing her, he walked, her hand still captured in his.
“Huh.” This was unique. All the men Selina had dated had tried to get her into bed, then left when they didn’t succeed after the first few evenings, as though a couple of dinners entitled them to possess her body, her heart and her soul. Kam sounded as though he wanted to stick around, wait for her to decide when she was ready.
Selina strolled toward the Oasis swimming pool, Kam close and attentive. Unburdening herself to him had felt…right, as though she’d talked with a trusted friend. She literally felt brighter, as though she shone, and lighter on her feet.
Not that talking really changed anything, of course. She’d talked to a lot of people about what had happened to her—the police, Jerry, therapists, friends. Telling Kam didn’t make any difference. But she wondered if they’d see each other again after this vacation was over. After exposing so much of herself to him, it would be odd to lose touch completely.
“Maybe after this is over, we can have dinner sometime,” she said, testing.
“Especially if I decide to take that ambassadorship. Selina, I meant what I said. I can wait for my goddess to be ready.”
“You seem very confident.” Too bad she wasn’t. She hadn’t felt much for any man…until Kam, and she
really wasn’t sure of him. She might never be.
“I am confident in you, in your passion.”
“My what?”
“Your passion. You do not see yourself as passionate, but you are.” He lifted her left hand, kissing the ruby on her fourth finger. “Your heart has the fire of this stone. That is why I picked it for you.”
“I…I…what?”
Kam laughed. “Strange, the illusions we cherish, hmm? I have the illusion that everyone loves me, which you challenged. You believe that your stepfather frightened the passion out of you forever, and I intend to destroy that belief.”
“I told you, I’m not scared.”
“If you say so.” He gave her a smug smile. “I believe I am right and that I will succeed.”
She was about to argue with him some more when Jerry, surrounded by a bevy of women, caught her attention. Selina stopped so suddenly that Kam bumped into her. She pointed toward the swimming pool. “Look at that.”
Her grandfather sat under an umbrella next to an attractive older lady. Nearby, a younger woman tucked her fair hair beneath a hat. A few feet away, sprawled in a lounge chair, Marta Hunter tapped on a laptop computer.
“Oh, your grandfather has found himself lady friends.” With Selina’s hand still in his, Kam headed toward Grandpa Jerry. “Excuse us,” Kam said to the women.
Jerry looked up. “Well! What have you two young people been up to?”
“We, um, we bought a ring.” Selina held out her hand, aware of Hunter’s scrutiny.
“Not a diamond? I’m surprised,” Jerry said.
“I felt that a ruby would symbolize our passion,” Kam said with a wink and a nod toward Hunter.
“How romantic.” The older lady glanced at the ring, then at the younger, fair-haired woman. Selina wondered which female Grandpa Jerry was interested in.
“This is Emma Forsythe and her daughter, Cindy,” Jerome said.
“Cynthia,” Emma Forsythe said.
“Pleased to meet you,” Selina said. She glanced at Cynthia, whose face reddened.
Selina experienced a flash of sympathy toward the girl, whose mother might as well have “battle-ax” tattooed on her forehead. “Hey, Cynthia,” Selina said. “Want to have dinner with us tonight?”
“She wouldn’t want to intrude,” Emma said.
“She wouldn’t be intruding, nor would she be out of place if she went parasailing with us tomorrow,” Kam said.
“Parasailing? This is the first I’ve heard about parasailing.” Selina smiled at Kam.
“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” Cynthia said. “That sounds scary.”
Wimp, Selina thought. She squared her shoulders. “It sounds fun to me. Let’s do it.”
Kam grinned at Selina. “Sometimes taking chances can be good.”
Chapter Ten
“I don’t understand why you won’t be reasonable about this.” Joyce Phipps-Stover slammed a drawer shut on a frothy pile of pink lace lingerie. “You’ve seen my ledgers. The economy’s lousy, and I can’t sell the shop without losing over a hundred grand in loans. Personal loans, Brian. I love you, but I won’t screw over my friends by declaring bankruptcy just because you’re a stubborn jerk.”
Brian, her husband of six months, threw his empty suitcase into the closet with a crash. “I’m settled in at Reno High.”
“There are plenty of teaching jobs in the St. Paul-Minneapolis area.”
“I’m head of the English department and have tenure. I’m not about to give up what I’ve worked for since I was seventeen to move to Antarctica.”
“St. Paul isn’t Antarctica. Granted, it can be cold in the winter, but so is northern Nevada.” She’d tried living in Reno and hated it. “What do you see in that place, anyhow? It’s a horrible little town masquerading as a city. It’s dirty, dusty and downright tawdry. Strip clubs and casinos…ick.”
“That’s just downtown. Suburban Reno’s a good place to raise children.”
Her fury built. “I wouldn’t bring that up if I were you.” At age twenty-four, she had plenty of time to bear children. She didn’t want to get pregnant until she was about thirty, but for whatever reason, Brian wanted to have babies right away. He’d even thrown out her birth control pills, which had outraged her.
“Reno’s my home.” Brian stalked through the villa to its living room.
She followed. “Well, it’s not mine.” After he’d tossed her pills, she’d flown back to St. Paul, to her home and her life. She’d slipped right back in; returning to St. Paul had felt like putting on a beloved old sweater. Fortunately, her competent assistant had run the shop for the few months she’d been in Reno.
“That’s it in a nutshell, isn’t it?” Brian flung open the villa’s front door and left without bothering to close it behind him.
The sound of the door smashing against the wall reverberated through the villa. Despairing, Joyce sank down on the cushy sofa and assessed her surroundings. La Torchere was synonymous with luxury, and the villas were the crème de la crème of the resort. Set at the edge of the beach, they featured full views of the ocean, complete privacy and every amenity she could think of…except a reasonable attitude from the man she’d married. The sumptuous villa, with its ivory brocade couches, polished marble floors and enormous picture windows, contrasted with the bleakness in her heart.
She looked through the open doorway to the beach, the same beach where she and Brian had spoken vows of love just six months before.
Ironically enough, another couple stood there, he in a tux, she in a long white gown, with a minister and a small crowd of onlookers. Strange, she thought, the number of couples marrying at La Torchere. Who would have thought that steamy southwest Florida was a destination for romance?
Her first inclination was to run outside screaming Stop! Stop! Instead, she went to the kitchen to brew a strong cup of coffee.
She and Brian had both hoped to rediscover their love and the reasons they’d married by coming to La Torchere. Unfortunately, nothing had gone as planned; with their commitment forgotten and their marriage in a shambles, they’d argued for nearly all of their stay. Not even the helpful interference of the manager, Merry Montrose—who obviously had a penchant for matchmaking—could help.
Exhausted emotionally as well as physically, Joyce needed high-quality, high-octane brew, and fast. She’d brought her own espresso from The Ground Bean, her coffeehouse, and knew it was just the ticket. She found a coffeemaker on the counter and filters nearby. But after she filled the water reservoir and put coffee in the basket, the thing didn’t start.
Maybe it wasn’t plugged in. She flipped a light switch so she could see behind the machine, but the overhead didn’t come on.
Damn. Was every electrical connection in the place burned out?
Why not? Burnout seemed a fitting analogy to her marriage.
With a sigh she reached for a phone to call the front desk for help.
Scant minutes later, a knock at the door heralded the repair person, an attractive blond man, dressed in the same garb many resort employees wore: a teal polo shirt and khaki shorts. The tag on his shirt read Alec.
Joyce lifted a hand to her hair, pushed it back behind her ears and smiled. She didn’t intend to cheat on her husband, even if he was an untrustworthy jerk, but it sure helped her morale to have a good-looking man around. She was glad she’d changed into a bikini with a see-through cover-up.
“The sockets seem to be burned out in the kitchen,” she told him, leading him inside the villa.
“That’s what my work order says.” The repairman’s blue eyes twinkled in his tanned face. “I’ll just check the circuit breakers.”
As he opened a panel hidden inside one of the cupboards, he said, “Someone’s getting married out front, and there’s another wedding right after that. I’ve seen a couple dance on the beach every night. What is it with this place?”
Joyce crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know, but love seems to be in the air aro
und here. Too bad it’s limited to this island.”
Alec cast her a surprised glance, but didn’t ask any questions. Tactful, she thought. She appreciated that.
“We got married here, too,” she said.
“Oh? Back for a second honeymoon?”
“Sort of.” She giggled nervously.
“Sounds like fun.” He flipped the panel closed with a snap. “Okay, everything should work now.”
Joyce fiddled with the coffeemaker, which hissed as coffee began to drip into the glass pot. She sighed with relief and offered Alec a cup of coffee.
Later, after her husband had returned and they’d made up—sort of—she and Brian ate dinner in the kitchen of their villa. Through the window, she saw one of the couples Alec had mentioned, dancing on the sand.
Few pleasures equaled the joy of holding Selina in his arms. As they danced on the beach in the moonlight, Kamar lowered his head to nuzzle her hair. Tonight she’d let it flow freely along her exquisite neck and over her shoulders, and he’d discovered he loved to play with the silky strands.
As their time together continued, he’d noticed that she’d become more relaxed around him. They touched and kissed frequently, with Selina now initiating caresses. Even better, she’d spoken openly with him about her private pain, as though he were a trusted confidant.
Now she said, “I want to apologize to you for the way I treated you when we met. I was wrong about you.”
“So I am not an arrogant buffoon?” He grinned at her. “And everyone does love me?”
“Well, you have your moments. You’re more complicated than I thought.”
“Me? I am not complicated. Women are complicated. I am a man, and men are easy.”
“Yeah, they’re dogs, or so I hear.”
“Woof.” He bent his head and nibbled on her throat, then kissed the spot he’d savaged. When he blew on the dampness, she quivered in his arms.
Her vulnerability heightened her allure, as did her contrasts. Her uninhibited kisses showed she’d had enough sexual experience to be interesting, and yet she did not give herself often or lightly. He appreciated that. When they finally came together, their affair would be passionate, not casual or empty.