They were awakened by the pilot's announcement that they would be landing in Freeport, Grand Bahamas, in ten minutes.
As they sat up and blinked owlishly at one another, Quentin gave her a wicked grin and said, "I certainly enjoyed sleeping with you, my dear."
"Thank you. I had given up all hope of ever hearing you say that."
"Does that mean you've forgiven me for all my false starts?"
"Doesn't it show?" she asked. "I have a short fuse, but the explosion is never very loud or prolonged."
"Then may I say that you look especially fetching when you wake up."
"Thank you. You look virile, and sort of piratical with your beard, but then, I've never before had a man wake up next to me."
"I feel honored. I'd feel even more honored if it were for real," he murmured in her ear.
"That's the best part of waking up each morning. You never know when you may get lucky."
He chuckled throatily. "That's a leading remark if I ever heard one. You surprise me!"
She gave him a pert look. "I'm full of surprises, as you'll find out when you get to know me better."
"You keep saying that, and I've been doing my damnedest to get to know you better, but it hasn't worked so far. You're still a mystery to me. How you can be so, well, perfect, everything a man could want, all rolled into one."
"Unless I'm very much mistaken, this weekend will solve the mystery, then," she answered.
"I hope so. Just as long as we both feel we're not rushing into anything."
"No, we agreed to let things go at a natural but also rational pace. I'm being honest, but then I have no experience, so I'm trusting you here."
"And I you. You will let me know if anything is too much—"
She rolled her eyes. "Too little, more like."
He stroked the back of her hand. "I just don't want it to be a case of 'careful what you wish for.'"
"Nor I for you. I've seen plenty of guys decide to settle down, only to literally take the first woman who came along. It's like they've made the logical choice, and that's as far as it goes. Never mind the fact that the girl is a complete head case."
He sighed. "Too true. Some of my friends went that way."
She gave him a long, assessing look. "Then there are others who have made up their mind they won't settle down until they're forty, so even when the most amazing girl comes into his life, he's already decided they basically have no future, and it's over before it's ever begun."
He nodded. "I've seen it too. It's even worse when they date for months, or even years, and yet he still treats her like she not 'the one', whatever that means. So I promise you, I'm not that logical and close-minded.
"But worse still would be taking advantage of a woman's feeling without reciprocating. I'm not totally logic-driven. I think you can tell, virgin though you are. But that's exactly why we both have to be sure."
"Thanks for being such a gentleman about it. In every sense."
"I haven't had too many steady girlfriends over the years, but I have to admit, I have actually manage to stay friends with them. No tempestuous breakups, nothing cataclysmic. I want the same for us. And truth to tell, I'm scared of blowing it."
She looked up at him, started. "You? Why? I'm the naïve one here liable to make some huge bungling error, not you."
He stroked back a stray tendril from her cheek. "I don't want to lose our friendship, or the best assistant a man could ever hope for, just because, well, I can't use my head."
"Thank you."
"And yet I sure as hell don't want to lose the chance of personal happiness just because we happen to have met at work."
"I understand," she said, blowing out a shaky sigh of relief. "It's been like that for me too. Trust you to hit the nail on the head as usual."
"So long as you also understand that I have both of our best interests at heart, not just my own."
She laughed. "You've more than proven that."
"So we're just going to go down here, do the Femme Fatale work, and have whatever fun we can in the tropics without feeling the pressure to er, perform."
She offered her hand. "Deal, Mr. Pierce."
He took it, shook it, then leaned in to kiss her again. They broke off with a shaky sigh, and turned to look out the window as the pilot made a smooth landing.
Carrying their hand luggage off the plane, he headed to the carousel with all their bags and the rest of the Femme Fatale group while she and Candy went to freshen up, and then they found their bags and got a taxi to the hotel with Bruce as well as Candy.
Suzanna could feel her heart pounding in her chest as one by one the Femme Fatal group were shown to their rooms.
She knew what they had agreed to on the plane, but the sultry hit of the Bahamian weather seemed to set her on edge.
Soon she and Quentin were on their own in the corridor with the porter. Suzanna's room came first, and Quentin's was right next to hers. As she looked around, she saw that it had an adjoining door.
"Everything all right?" he asked, poking his head in to inspect it and make sure it passed muster.
"Yes, fine, thank you," she said, trying not to blush. "I'll see you later."
"Yes, see you, my dear," he said with a warm smile. Then he shut the door behind him, leaving her alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The hotel room she had been led to was on the third floor. Suzy decided to pull back the floral drapes, and was rewarded a magnificent view of the harbor from her balcony. She slid open the glass doors, then stepped out onto it to breathe in the fragrant night air.
But was getting late, and she was sure they would have a full day tomorrow. She padded back inside and began to unpack, shaking the wrinkles out of her clothes for the morning before hanging them up. The rest could wait until they reached the place they would be staying for most of their trip.
Next she got out her night clothes and toothbrush. One look at the sumptuously appointed bathroom was enough to convince her that a nice hot bath as the perfect end to her day.
After the relaxing suds had taken away the stiffness of travel, she rubbed herself dry with a fluffy towel and got into her mauve gown and peignoir.
The trouble was, she was restless and not at all sleepy. The nap on the plane had satisfied her need for sleep, at least temporarily.
She opened the sliding glass doors once more to let in the refreshing night breeze, and began to sniff the fragrant flowering vines which grew on the balcony railing. She leaned forward over it, drinking in the sights, sounds and smells of the balmy tropics. A vagrant breeze molded her gown to her curves and ruffled her hair.
She heard a movement in the shrubbery separating her balcony from Quentin's, and a familiar voice asked, "Couldn't you sleep either, Suzanna?"
Instinctively, she moved toward the low barrier.
"It must be the thrill of really being in the Bahamas," she said. "I even took a warm bath, but I'm still not sleepy."
Suzanna had turned off her overhead room light, and had no idea how transparently revealing the moonlight and the low light from her lamp table was.
It was only when she heard his sudden in-drawn breath that she realized she might as well have been standing there naked.
"God, Suzanna," he breathed, "you're the most incredible woman I've ever seen!"
Suzanna stood motionless in the dim light that concealed her flaming cheeks, but not her rapid breathing, or the deep rise and fall of her breasts under the filmy material as she stood before him in her lace and silk robe.
Her ragged breathing finally seemed to bring Quentin to his senses.
He stopped his hand midway before he did the unthinkable, and summoning all his strength, resisted the temptation to pull her into his own room and spread her on his bed as he had ached to for so long. Instead, he retreated back behind the safety of the box hedge that divided their private terraces and heaved a ragged sigh.
"I seem to be apologizing to you all the time, Suzanna. I had no r
ight to invade your privacy, or to ogle you. I couldn't blame you if you despised me."
She laughed bitterly. "Am I really that unattractive, that you can't bear to touch me? Just when I thought we were getting past all the strain of working together and starting to become, well, friends?"
"No, of course you're not unattractive! What did I just say to you? What were we just doing a moment ago? Surely that must tell you how I think of you."
"They stop talking, and just start feeling." With more bravado than she really felt, she opened the lacy robe and let it drop to the floor. She stood like a voluptuous nymph bathed in moonlight, her wide, sensuous mouth curved in an inviting smile. Summoning up all her courage, she held out her arms to the man she ached for in a silent plea....
But when he made no move to touch her, and the seconds dragged on in unbearable silence, she shot him a look that would have withered a lesser man. Gathering together the few shreds of dignity she had left, she dropped her arms, squared her shoulders, and marched straight-backed into her room. Once there, slid the door shut behind her and locked it with a resounding click.
She flicked off the light quickly, and threw herself on the bed, her mind reeling. She could not believe that she could have had the audacity to act like that. But worse still, she couldn’t imagine that she had dared to come out of her shell far enough to offer him everything that every other man in the world had ever dreamed of from her, and he had actually not only rejected her, but practically thrown it back in her face. He knew her darkest secrets, and yet he had turned her down without so much as a word of regret or apology.
From her darkened room, she could see Quentin clearly, standing as if rooted to the spot. Clearly he wasn't about to give in, and yet he couldn't seem to tear himself away. Maybe it wasn't her after all. Perhaps it really was him?
Considering this possibility for a moment as she tried to subdue the tears that were nearly choking her, it all started to make much more sense. She could almost hear his inner struggle with himself. He had hired a plain girl for her brains, and almost immediately had become physically attracted to her.
While he wrestled with his conscience as to whether or not to be the first man in her life, right before his eyes she had turned into the unbelievably sexy-looking glamor girl he couldn't quite trust.
She knew he wanted her. Probably ten years before, he'd have been on her in a bound and been in her bed without a second thought, she reflected. But a thirty-five year old man was different. He was more cautious, and weighed all his options carefully.
She was still watching as he turned dejectedly and returned to his room and solitary bed.
She threw herself face down on the bed and wept with frustration, and gradually drifted off into a deep, emotionally exhausted sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The following morning, Suzanna awakened to a feeling of having misbehaved very badly, and found it acutely embarrassing. She was afraid she might have killed her chances with Quentin completely. He probably wouldn't even look at her today, she had been so petulant and unreasonable because he had made her feel so rejected.
She knew it was now her turn to apologize. She tried to psych herself up by standing under an invigorating shower, and dressing with care.
Her fears were groundless, however, because as she was wording her apology for the hundredth time, there was a light tap at her door, and she opened it to a Quentin who smiled at her as if nothing had ever happened.
Before he had a chance to say anything other than good morning, she said softly, "Quentin, it seems to be my turn to apologize. I'm so sorry. I had no call to make your guilt trip any worse than it was."
"Sorry? Whatever for? Actually, it was the nicest thing that's ever happened to me. Besides, when you're right, you're right. I had missed something."
"What was that?" she asked suspiciously
"That on top of everything else, your gorgeous hair is natural."
She gasped in dismay. "Quentin! You're outrageous!"
He quirked one dark eyebrow at her. "And you're just a sweet, conventional, soul of modesty, I suppose?"
His voice was mock-serious, but there was no concealing the laughter ready to burst forth.
"By the way, I just thought I should warn you, I'm turning in your name as a candidate for the Ms. Nude America contest. I am sure you would win hands down. Or gown down."
With that, neither one of them could keep a straight face. They collapsed into helpless laughter, as they had in past crises.
Quentin wheezed, "I must say, I never expected my first night in Freeport to be so educational. No wonder Candy was impressed."
"Enough, enough, I get the point. I can see I'm never going to hear the end of this."
"Speaking of ends, yours was...."
She slapped him lightly on the forearm.
"It goes no further than this, I promise," he vowed, giving her a light peck on the cheek. "And now, if that's sorted, we'd better head out. They're probably waiting for us in the restaurant, so we may as well get started."
"Thanks for making it so easy for me. I'm afraid you're a much kinder person than I am."
"Are you kidding? How kind can you get? I'll bet there isn't a man in this hotel, with the possible exception of Bruce, who wouldn't have considered your performance last night an act of kindness."
She groaned again. "I can see I am never going to live it down."
"Never is a long time. You'll live it down, but I'll never forget it," he promised with a long look.
They had reached the entrance to the sunny white breakfast room and asked for the Femme Fatale Cosmetic crew's table. A headwaiter led them to a pleasant table by a window where they were greeted by Candy, Bruce, the wardrobe mistress named Helene Michaud, and two cameramen, Joe Bletcher for stills and Max Perkins for video. There were introductions all around, and the waiter was standing by to take their order.
They both ordered a full breakfast to keep up their energy through the day, and ate heartily while they got to know each other better.
As soon as they had all finished eating, they re-packed their belongings, checked out of the hotel, and amid much bantering, took taxis the short distance to the jetty to get aboard the motor launch for their short trip to Felix Morgan's private island.
As the launch sped across the sparkling blue-green water with the morning sun glowing overhead, Suzanna felt a surge of exhilaration. She wished that she could be alone with Quentin. It was so stunning, it could have been a romantic interlude, but instead it was like a big family picnic. Spirits were high, and the cameramen were ecstatic about the quality of the light. The turquoise water turned to clear emerald as the boat pulled in closer to the shore. The air was full of the perfume of a million flowers. Suzanna was sure she had never seen anything so magical.
They tied up at a white, somewhat weather-beaten dock, and saw an old model, nondescript American car parked in a nearby lot. There was also a good sized SUV.
Two Bahamians came to help them from the launch, and to assist in unloading the luggage and cameras. The luggage was put in the vintage car, while the cameras were carried to the SUV. They were piled in the luggage area at the back, while the crew, Suzy and Quentin started to climb inside.
Once they were all settled, they began to head away from the dock. There was only one road, narrow, of coral rock and shell marl. In less than five minutes, they saw the beginning of the estate.
The servants' quarters came first, with the estate-house next, and finally the guest house. The accommodations were luxurious to say the least. All the buildings were white stucco with red Spanish tile roofs. There were floor to ceiling casement windows all around to catch every available breeze. Everywhere, climbing the buildings, the walls and even the trees were trumpet vines, flame vines, bougainvillea, and passion flower.
There were flowered terraces, flagstone paths, and trees in profusion- arecas, ficus, ciumbo limbo, and more species of palms than Suzanna could count. There were
coconut, date, Christmas and cabbage.
Several paths led down to the whitest beach Suzy had ever seen. It extended as far as the eye could see in both directions. It was like paradise, a perfect setting for the glamorous shots they would be taking.
The three women were assigned to the guest house, while the men would be in the main house.
The guest house was built in the shape of a square with a gorgeous fountain courtyard in the center. Each bedroom opened onto the court.
The fourth side of the house was the living area. Suzy and Helene were at opposite sides of the court, with Candy at the end. Each room had a private bath. Suzy looked around in awe. She knew she came from a good background, but she had rarely seen such opulence.
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