by Day Leclaire
“I don’t know,” she confessed in a whisper.
“That’s going to have to figure into your analysis. The preserve is part of the resort’s draw.” He turned her to face him. “This island isn’t just a set of facts and figures on a piece of paper, Taylor. It’s far more.”
“I’m aware of that.”
He shook his head. “Not yet you aren’t. But you will be. We’re going to strike a deal, you and I.”
“What sort of deal?” she asked suspiciously.
“Every day I’ll help you research one item on your list.”
“And in exchange?”
His smile made her nervous. “You allow me to show you an aspect of the island not on the list.”
“That’s it? You show me more of the island than I’ve requested in exchange for helping with my analysis?” Her doubts faded. She couldn’t see a downside to that proposal. In fact, whatever he chose to reveal might give her report greater depth. “Agreed.”
“Not so fast, Princess,” he warned. “When it’s my turn, you do what I say, when I say. Without argument. If I say we go riding, your backside hits that saddle without complaint.”
She gave him a sunny smile and held out her hand. “It’s a deal.”
“Perfect,” he said, swallowing her fingers with his.
Then he returned her smile, the wicked twitch of his lips blasting her complacency to itty-bitty pieces. And in that instant she realized he’d just won a battle she didn’t even realize they’d been waging.
CHAPTER SIX
“WAKEUP, PRINCESS. Time to go exploring.”
“Go ‘way,” she muttered, pulling the sheet over her head.
JT snapped on the bedside light. “I’m not leaving and hiding won’t help.”
A soft snore issued from beneath the sheet, suggesting that subtlety wouldn’t work with this particular woman. Grabbing the covers, he yanked them off the bed, admiring the view he’d bared. Lord, she was gorgeous. She lay curled in a ball, her pert bottom thrust in his direction, a pair of men’s silk boxers sculpting perfectly shaped white thighs. He grinned at the incongruity. The woman who wore garters, stockings and bikini underwear beneath a prim church dress also wore boxers to bed. And a sleeveless cotton T-shirt. A very thin scoopedneck T-shirt. She certainly knew how to keep things interesting.
He ruffled her hair. “Come on, sweetheart. Up and at ‘em.”
“Dammit! Turn off that light,” she barked, squinting at him through a tangle of blond curls. She looked around, her luscious mouth set in an irritated—highly kissable—pout. “Where the hell is my blanket?”
“Let me take a guess here. You’re not a morning person, right?”
“No. Especially when it’s still dark outside.” She scrambled onto her hands and knees, peering over the edge of the four-poster for her covers. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Two.”
She gaped at him, rocking back on her heels. “Two? In the morning? Are you crazy?”
“We have a deal if you recall.”
“What deal? What are you talking about?”
Admiring the view, he folded his arms across his chest. “I’m talking about our agreement. The one we struck yesterday afternoon. We shook hands and everything. Remember that one?”
“At this hour I don’t even remember my own name, let alone any deal.” Spying her covers at the foot of the bed, she leaned over and jerked them into place. “Go away, Richmond. I’m too tired for this nonsense.”
He ripped the blanket and sheet from her grasp and tossed them into the middle of the room. “Oh, no, you don’t. I help you research one item on your list and in return you explore the island with me. If you’ll exert a brain cell or two, you’ll recall our arrangement was when I say, where I say, without argument. Does any of that ring a bell with you?”
Giving up on the blanket, she once again curled into a ball in the center of the mattress, this time pulling a pillow over her head. “No!” came her muffled retort. “Not at two in the morning it doesn’t. Check in with me again at six. Better yet, try seven. My memory may have improved by then.”
“Looks like a little persuasion is called for.” He plucked the pillow from her grasp and, shoving both arms beneath her body, lifted her clear off the bed.
Her breath escaped in a tiny shriek and she kicked at empty air. “Put me down! I didn’t agree to go exploring in the middle of the night.”
“Next time make sure you read the fine print. It was all there.” He set her on the floor, planting himself between her and the bed. “I’ll be generous, though. I’ll let you choose whether it’s in street clothes or boxers and a T-shirt.”
Her eyes widened as though she’d only just then realized what she wore. With a cry of outrage, she dove for the pile of bedding he’d dumped on the floor, burrowing into it like a mouse into its nest. Her head poked out from the center. “Go away.”
“If you insist. But I’ll be back and I expect to find you dressed.” He started for the adjoining bedroom, pausing long enough to add, “You have two minutes.”
He gave her one minute and fifty seconds, disappointed to discover her fully clothed in white chinos and a bulky cotton sweater, nary a pair of boxers or T-shirt in sight. She stood in front of the mirror tying her hair back—and glaring at him.
“Good. You’re ready.”
She swiveled to face him. “Would you mind telling me what this is all about?” she requested in her most businesslike manner.
He lounged in the doorway, suppressing a smile. She’d have sounded a whole lot more intimidating if she weren’t attempting to confront him barefoot with a riot of stubborn curls escaping from a haphazard ponytail. No wonder she wore heels and formal clothing. With her face scrubbed clean of makeup and dressed in her current getup, she looked all of sixteen.
“This is about exploring the island. Like you agreed.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Do you mean to tell me there’s something out there I can only see at two in the morning?”
“No. I mean to tell you there’s something out there that we can only do at two in the morning. I’d have tried for an earlier hour, but the moon wasn’t up.” He tossed her a flashlight. “Let’s go.”
To her credit, she didn’t argue further. She put on a pair of sneakers and followed him out the door. He led the way to the basement and through the small employee cafeteria before entering the kitchen. Every surface and counter had been scoured, the preparation area as neat as a pin with copper-bottomed pots and pans hanging in an orderly row. But then, Columbia Hanes, the Bride’s Bay chef, ran a tight ship. Purity, variety and originality were her style. Clutter and disorder didn’t stand a chance.
Just past the kitchen JT opened the door to a small storage room. A huge built-in wooden rack covered one wall. “Here we are,” he announced.
“This is what I could only see at two in the morning?”
“Sarcasm does not become you, Princess. And, no, we could have seen this earlier.” He felt along the edge of the rack until he found a small catch. Applying a bit of pressure, a portion of the rack swung inward, revealing the opening of a tunnel. “It just wouldn’t have had the same impact. Secret passageways should only be viewed between midnight and five in the morning. Ever been in one before?” he asked, pulling a second flashlight from his pocket and shining the beam into the tunnel.
She stared openmouthed at the dark gaping hole, her velvety eyes alight with excitement. If she’d been half asleep before, she was wide-awake now. “Never,” she breathed. “Where does it go?”
“Come on and I’ll show you.” He took the lead again. “Turn on your flashlight and watch your footing on the stairs.” A damp mustiness clung to the tunnel, every little sound bouncing off the brick-lined walls and echoing eerily. After a short walk the tunnel branched off, and now they could hear the sound of waves breaking on the shore. He gestured with his flashlight. “That way leads to the ocean and comes out underwater.”
Taylor came up beside him, clutching his arm. “Was it used for smuggling?”
He grinned. “I’m sure the Jermains would never have been involved in anything so nefarious. Although you can feel free to ask Elizabeth about it. Come on. We’re almost there, so keep your voice down. This branch of the tunnel ends in a storage shed attached to the old stables. They were converted to employee housing when the new stables were built.”
The tunnel terminated at a narrow doorway at the top of a flight of brick steps. JT gestured for silence and released the catch, pulling the door open. A minute later they were out of the shed.
“Look out for snakes,” he warned.
” What? You’re joking, right? JT?”
He didn’t reply, just grabbed her hand and skirted the swimming pool, jogging across the lawn toward the golf course. By the time they got there, Taylor was gasping for breath.
“Slow down,” she pleaded.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re out of shape.”
“Yes. There, I’ve admitted it. Happy?” The question ended in a startled squeak as a uniformed man emerged from the darkness.
“Evening, ma’am. That you, JT?”
“I did warn you I might be out and about tonight,” JT replied, tucking Taylor close and ruffling her hair reassuringly. “Honey, this is Thomas Graves, the new head of security. He sees to it that all the mucky-mucks staying at the hotel are kept safe. He’s the best there is. Thomas, my fiancee, Taylor Davis.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Davis,” Thomas said, touching the brim of his hat. He glanced at JT. “I put the equipment you asked for by Glory Hal. Leave it there when you’re through, and I’ll make sure it’s put away.”
“Thanks. I appreciate this.”
“Always happy to be of assistance.”
JT nodded. “In that case, I owe you one.” Catching Taylor’s hand in his again, he walked in the direction of the tee-off area for the first hole.
“Who’s Glory Hal?” she asked.
“Not who. Glory Hal’s a what. Glory Hallelujah. It’s a live oak that’s more than two hundred years old.”
“And it has a name?”
“That’s Elizabeth’s doing. When she returned to the island after the 1944 hurricane, parts of the plantation house had been damaged, as well as a good portion of the forest. But this particular tree was spared. When she learned that it still stood, she exclaimed, ‘Glory Hallelujah!’ And ever since then it’s been the tree’s nickname.”
“What a wonderful story,” she said in a soft voice.
He pointed. “There it is.”
Taylor stared in wonder. She’d never seen such a huge live oak. It stood tall and indomitable against the night sky, Spanish moss hanging from every twisted branch. What a wealth of history it had withstood, its roots as deep and permanent as the oldest founding family. How she wished she had as remarkable a heritage.
She glanced at JT. “So, why are we here?”
“I’ll show you.” He crossed to the base of the tree and snagged a golf bag.
“You brought me out here at two in the morning to play golf?” she asked in disbelief.
A grin played around the corners of his mouth. “Would you have gone during the day?”
Not a chance. And apparently he knew it. “No,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t have.”
“Because you felt intimidated. Because it’s a championship course and you’d never held a club in your hand before. Right?”
A strange tightness gripped her throat. Had she been so transparent? She found it unsettling. She didn’t want him able to read her with such ease. Nor did she want him doing something so… kind, so damned commendable. How could she hope to keep a professional distance when he did that?
The irony of the thought almost made her laugh. A professional distance? When had she ever successfully maintained a distance—professional or otherwise—with him? Well, two in the morning struck her as good a time as any to start.
“This… this is very considerate of you, JT.”
“Mr. Richmond.”
She blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Whenever you use that tone of voice you always call me Mr. Richmond.”
He dropped the golf bag and stepped closer, the moonlight throwing a portion of his face into shadow and turning his eyes to dark glittering pools. It made her unaccountably nervous, and without conscious thought she took a hasty step backward.
“Fine,” she said. “This is very considerate of you, Mr. Richmond, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. I’d like to return to my room if you don’t mind.”
He reached for her, his hand closing around her arm. “But I do mind. We have an agreement and I’m going to make sure you stick to it.”
“Why?” she demanded, knowing she didn’t have a hope of twisting free of his hold, but obligated to try nonetheless. “How is playing golf in the middle of the night going to impact on my report? How will it give me a better feel for the island?”
He tugged her closer, locking her into the warm curve of his hips and thighs. “To hell with the island. And to hell with your damned report. You want to play golf. I know you do.”
“That’s not the point,” she retorted, fighting the insidious warmth flooding her loins, as well as the urge to wrap her arms around him and fit her mouth to his. “I simply don’t choose to play at this time. Now take me back to the room.”
“So it’s the time that’s the problem. Is being alone with a man at this hour too risky for you?”
Without a doubt! Especially when the man in question held her in his arms, his mouth so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. “Not at all,” she said with a careless shrug. “Being alone with a man at this hour is of no consequence whatsoever.”
“Then why are you kicking up such a fuss? What’s wrong?”
“I told you—nothing!”
“Perhaps playing golf with me is too personal,” he persisted. “Have I gotten a little too close to the woman beneath the corporate exec?”
She shot him an irritated look. “As far as you’re concerned there is no woman beneath the corporate executive. There’s only your employer. I’m not here for your amusement. Nor am I here to play silly games in the middle of the night. I’m here to…to…” Oh, Lord, what the hell was she here to do? For some unknown reason, that vital piece of information had slipped from conscious memory, relegated to the portion of her brain reserved for the trivial.
“Yes?”
“I’m here to—” she seized the answer with all the relief of a drowning victim thrown a life preserver “—to inspect the facilities and write up a stellar report.”
“And what will you put in that report? Will I be featured?”
“No!” Not if she wanted to make vice president.
“Why not?”
“Because it isn’t pertinent.” She fought to keep her voice level, to sound dispassionate and professional. “Everything I report, everything I investigate while on this island must be business related.”
“Everything?” His mouth brushed hers, the husky word delivered with point-blank precision.
She turned her head to one side and closed her eyes. She couldn’t give in. Not this time. Because if she did, she’d be lost. Permanently, irretrievably lost. “Yes,” she whispered, fighting the overwhelming urge to turn her head and to lift her mouth to his in complete surrender. “Everything has to further my business interests.”
“Was that what you were doing with me on the bed when we first arrived?” he questioned caustically. “Furthering your business interests? Tell me, Princess, how will that figure into your report?”
It took a moment for his words to fully sink in. But once they did, her desire dissipated beneath a rush of fury. She ripped free of his grasp and stood in front of him, her breath swift and uneven. How dare he? How dare he dump the blame on her? She hadn’t initiated that embrace. Just because he had the uncanny ability to drive every rational thought from her
head with a single kiss… She wasn’t responsible for her reaction. It was chemicals or hormones or insanity.
But it was not her fault!
She glared at the golf bag at his feet. “You want me to play golf? Fine! I’ll play.”
Seizing the bag by its leather handle, she upended it. Clubs clattered to the grass, balls and tees tumbling out of an unzipped pocket. She picked up a ball, grabbed an iron at random and moved a few feet away. Tossing the ball to the ground, she shot a burning gaze at JT. Then she swung wildly, using every ounce of strength she possessed.
To her utter amazement, club and ball connected with a tremendous whack.
The ball shot upward in a long beautiful arc. Taylor stood and stared, openmouthed, until darkness swallowed the tiny white globe. “I… I hit it.” She swiveled to face JT, her eyes wide with amazement. “Did you see that? I hit it!”
He smiled at her enthusiasm. “You sure did, Princess. Want to do it again?”
“Yes! Yes, yes and yes.” She raced to his side and dropped to her knees, scooping up a handful of balls. “It curved into the woods, didn’t it? What’s that called? Hooking? Slicing?”
“If you’re right-handed, it was a hook.”
“How do I fix it?” she demanded.
“I’ll show you.”
For the next hour he worked with her, encouraging, teasing, praising as they progressed through a portion of the course. He finally called a halt on a green high atop a windswept hillock. “That’s enough for one night. We’d better head back.”
She wanted to protest. She wanted to keep playing until she dropped from exhaustion. With a sigh she straightened, gazing out at the moonlit ocean glistening through the sea oats. “This must be beautiful at sunrise,” she said.
He came up beside her, dropping an arm around her shoulders. “Sunset. You happen to be facing west.” He pointed. “Charleston is there. Just over the horizon.”
She grinned. “I never did have a very good sense of direction.”
“You can watch the sun rise from the other side of the island. And yes, it’s spectacular.” He glanced down at her. “Haven’t you ever seen the sun rise on the ocean before?”