by Nicola West
Flair scrambled eagerly ashore and stared about her. The tiny harbour, was perfect and could take several boats—allowing both for the hotel launches that would be needed as ferries, and for those guests who would want to bring their own craft. Craggy rocks sheltered it, and on top of the highest was a small lookout station; beyond, the road led to the complex of the hotel block.
'There'll be chalets as well, for those who want to be private,' Luke explained, leading her along the newly-made road. 'You'll notice a few old buildings too—the island was settled once, but of course it was too small to be a realistic idea. Not too small for what I want to do, though—in fact, it's just ideal. Big enough to wander about in, not too big to handle. I've got a lot of ideas for this place.'
As he showed her around, Flair became conscious of a feeling of unease that had been niggling at her ever since their arrival in the harbour. She couldn't quite place what it was—a sensation of something being not quite right, not as she had expected. But it was not until they had completed a circuit of the building work and returned to the hotel itself that it dawned on her just what it was.
'There's no one here,' she said slowly, pausing at the entrance to the empty foyer. 'Nobody working: nobody at all.' She swung round on Luke Seager. 'Just what's going on?'
'Why, you've just seen for yourself,' he answered sardonically. 'Nothing.'
'No, I mean—you said we'd be—be staying overnight! But there's no one here, no one at all --'
'So you said.' His eyes were bright and mocking. 'So there'll be no one to see just what goes on, will there?' he added in a throaty whisper, and Flair backed away with a gasp of alarm.
Luke roared with laughter. 'Don't be such a terrified little rabbit, Flair! I'm not going to eat you. What did you expect anyway—a hive of industry? You ought to have known there'd be no workmen here. We're waiting for the electrics, aren't we? Come back next week and the place'll be buzzing again.'
'So why didn't we come next week?' she asked, trying to quell the trembling of her voice.
'Because,' he said with a forced gentleness, as if he were talking to an imbecile, 'I wanted to come now. I wanted to see the place with nothing happening, get a clear view of it without a lot of workmen running about and getting in the way. There are various things I've got to decide at this stage and I wanted peace and quiet to do it. It suits me to have the place to myself for two or three days—otherwise I wouldn't have arranged it that way, believe me!'
Hair did believe him. Luke Seager wasn't the man to let his work be held up a day longer than was necessary. But her mind caught on to something else he had said. Two or three days! That meant—nights, as well. Nights alone here with Luke Seager—with no possibility of escape. She swallowed convulsively and said with an effort at nonchalance: 'I see. Well, I hope you've at least made sure there's some food here. And a couple of bedrooms properly furnished.'
His lips lifted in the mocking smile she was becoming used to.
'What do you take me for, Miss Pattison?' he drawled. 'I gave orders for one of the chalets to be specially prepared. We should find everything we need there—except electricity, of course. But there's bottle gas for the fridge and cooker—we'll be comfortable enough.'
'One of the chalets?' Flair asked, her voice higher than she meant it to be. 'You—you mean we're sharing?'
'I don't have the time or the money to spare for frills.' His tone was dangerous. 'I told you, it'll be adequate and quite as comfortable as we need. If you don't like it, there are plenty of others. Only of course—they're not furnished. But it's entirely up to you.'
He turned away and Flair stared speechlessly after him. Common politeness, courtesy, old-fashioned chivalry seemed to mean nothing to this man! But it was no more than she should have expected from him, she thought angrily as she followed him on a tour through the hotel.. And she was learning every day just what she should expect.
It was dusk before they finished the tour of the hotel. Flair was kept busy making notes as Luke examined each room with a meticulous attention that surprised her; though on reflection she realised that it shouldn't have, since only two weeks in his employ had shown him to be a perfectionist in anything he undertook. If he had a fault in his approach to his business it was that he found it difficult to delegate, though this again was understandable since he seemed to have most skills at his fingertips and certainly wasn't one to suffer fools gladly.
It came as a surprise too to learn that Luke was his own interior decorator—in the main rooms anyway. He had brought with him various books of wallpapers, paint charts and swatches of material as well as carpet and tile samples. Apparently he intended going over all these and roughing out a scheme for the hotel in general, the individual rooms in particular. The size of the task impressed Flair-— she could see now why he intended staying several days. Especially if he proposed to work out schemes for the chalets as well.
It was almost too dark to see when Luke finally straightened up and declared that work was over for the day.
'A meal and an early night, I guess,' he decided. 'Daylight's more use than lamplight and until W.A. goes in for daylight saving we'll still get more sun in the morning than the evening, so we'll use it. Now, let's go and see how they've fitted out that chalet. I brought some fresh foods in the icebox on the boat— I'll fetch them once we're settled in and maybe you could knock up a meal.'
It was on the tip of Flair's tongue to refuse, saying that she was his personal assistant, not chief cook and bottle-washer, but she bit the words back, knowing that they would be unreasonable. While she was preparing the meal, Luke could be continuing with his work; it would be foolish to insist that he took his turn with the chores, thus delaying their return to the mainland.
She followed him along the winding path to the chalets. Peppermint trees and eucalyptus grew alongside it, and the scent of wildflowers filled the air. A few nightbirds called and she could hear the muted roar of breakers from the seaward beaches of the island. As they came into the open she looked up and caught her breath at the sight of the sky, aglow with hundreds of thousands of stars, a myriad sparkling needle-points against the velvet bowl of night; so many that for a wild, dizzying moment she felt almost that she could hear them, like music in the heavens. She stood transfixed, unaware until his bare arm brushed hers that Luke was close beside her.
'It's because we're so far away from city lights,' he murmured. 'Nothing to stop us seeing them. Magnificent, isn't it.'
They walked on slowly, still keeping close together. Strangely, Flair felt now none of the electric disturbance that his presence had caused her before. Here on the island, under the stars, there was a Tightness about their silent companionship that she wouldn't have believed possible. Her thoughts returned to the kisses he had given her, beside the swimming-pool and in the office, and this time, instead of shrugging the memories away with anger and outrage, she allowed her mind to dwell on them, reliving the experiences with a pleasure she only half admitted.
The chalets stood dotted among the trees, each secluded in its own right. Luke stopped on the path, checked the key, then led the way to the one where he intended they should spend the night.
Instantly, Flair's contentment evaporated. She stood stock still on the path, staring at the small cottage-like building which Luke expected her to share with him. It was altogether too intimate, she decided with a quiver of pure panic. Yet there was nowhere else fit to sleep, she'd already seen that. And as Luke unlocked the door and called to her to come inside she followed slowly.
He was lighting a portable gas-lamp when she entered, and the soft glow filled the room with a cosiness she hadn't expected. Interested in spite of herself, she glanced around, approving the simple but comfortable furnishings, the airiness of the decor. If this was a prototype, she had to give her approval. She moved about, examining the different features, then followed Luke as he led the way into the small kitchen.
'Is this how they're all to be done out?' she aske
d, gazing around in delight. 'It's lovely! Almost a real little home. And when the electricity's in. . . .' She wandered back into the lounge room and opened a further door. 'Oh, and here's the bedroom. . . .' Her voice trailed away.
'What's the problem, no bed?' Luke enquired as he came to stand beside her. Together, they stared in the glowing lamplight at the huge double bed with its soft duvet. There was little else in the room; a chest, a fitted wardrobe and vanity unit, an easy chair and a small table at each side of the headboard. Wordlessly, Flair glanced sideways up at Luke and was aggrieved to see his mouth twitching with amusement.
'There is another bedroom, you know,' he told her, striding across the room to a door at the side. 'See, all mod cons—shower room --' he flung open the door and marched inside, Flair following '—and children's room. All suitably—ah.' His last word dropped like a stone into the silence and Flair saw him bite his lip as if to hide a grin.
'All totally unfurnished,' she finished coldly as they looked at the bare room beyond the shower room. 'Your orders don't seem to have quite got across this time, Luke. Or maybe they did. Maybe you knew about this all along.'
He merely grunted, turning back into the main bedroom and pulling the door closed behind him. Flair watched him, her heart beating fast. It was fully dark outside now—no chance of getting back to the mainland tonight through all those reefs. What were they going to do? Left to Luke, she had a very good idea of what the answer might be and her pulses quickened. But it wasn't going to be like that, she reminded herself. All right, so he was an attractive man—just about the most devastatingly attractive she'd ever set eyes on, she acknowledged bitterly—but she wasn't about to overturn all her principles and ambitions just for the experience of sharing his bed. No way! There had to be some other way round the problem.
'Look,' she said with a calmness that she was far from feeling, 'you can't really expect me to sleep— to share that bed with you.'
His eyes were mocking as he looked her up and down. 'Can't I? Stranger things have happened.'
'No, you can't!' she exploded, clenching her fists. 'Surely even you can see how impossible it is ‑'
'Not at all impossible ‑'
'—how totally out of the question——'
'What was the question, now?'
'—how absolutely unreasonable ‑'
'Come now, I can think of several very good reasons—-—'
'—and utterly crazy this is!' she panted, determined to finish in spite of his flippant interruptions. 'I'm not even going to argue about it, and that's flat. I am not sharing that bed with you—so you'd better find somewhere else to sleep for the night. And tomorrow night and the night after that, if you're determined to stay.'
Luke looked at her. His eyes glittered in the lamplight.
'I'd better find somewhere else?' he repeated softly. 'But I'm not the one who's objecting to sharing the bed. You are. Therefore it's surely only reasonable that you should be the one to seek alternative accommodation. And besides that, it is my chalet—or had you forgotten that?'
Flair gazed helplessly at him. He meant what he said; she could see that. He intended to spend the night—every night—in that king-sized bed, with or without her. From the look on his face, it seemed almost as if he wasn't bothered which—but Flair didn't feel like trusting to that impression. Especially when she remembered the wisp of a nightdress she'd brought. Her face aflame, she turned away, assessing the main room somewhat hopelessly.
If only there were some kind of settee or couch, she thought. But there were only two armchairs. Well, they would just have to do. They were both large and well padded. Pulled almost together—perhaps with that footstool in between for extra length— they should make an adequate bed. And Luke Seager would surely realise then that she meant what she said. Until now, she had the uncomfortable feeling that he thought she was merely playing hard to get, with every intention of succumbing when they'd both had enough of the game.
Well, he'd find out his mistake. For Flair, this was no game. She'd seen from her mother's example to what heights single-mindedness—in both senses of the phrase—could take a woman. She intended to scale no less a peak herself.
She said no more about the bed, but went on into the kitchen to prepare a meal while Luke went down to the boat to fetch the ice-box. Their supper had necessarily to be somewhat simple, since the portable gas cooker he had had installed temporarily in the kitchen consisted only of two burners and a grill. But it cooked steaks to perfection, and together with salad, fruit and cheese the meal set out on the screened verandah looked and tasted as appetising as Flair could have wished.
'Very nice indeed,' Luke commented, producing a bottle of wine. 'Well, do you realise this is the inaugural ceremony of Blue Island Leisure Centre? Could be a big thing for Seager Hotels, you know— if this one takes off I've plans for others. This is only a beginning.'
'But can you expand on such a scale?' Flair asked. 'I mean, there's this—the Albany Motel—all your other smaller places, as well as the Seager Hotels themselves. I know they're all making a profit, but can it stand expansion on the scale you're planning? A place like this must take a fortune to get going.'
'Ah, there are ways and means,' Luke told her mysteriously. 'Ways that sometimes even a personal assistant might not know about . . . just yet, anyway. Pass your glass, there's still plenty of wine here.'
Feeling herself blush slightly, Flair did so. Presumably that had been a gentle way of reminding her to mind her own business. Well, if that was the way he wanted it. . . . She leaned back in her chair, gazing up at the stars. There was little to recognise here from the northern skies she was accustomed to seeing. Probably there were familiar constellations if one knew where to look—but most of them were strange to her. She must get a. book, learn a little about them. She didn't know a lot about the skies of the northern hemisphere but could pick out the more familiar planets and formations. To be unable to do so here gave her an odd feeling of disorientation.
'Well, I guess it's time for bed,' said Luke, breaking in on her thoughts. 'Put the dishes in soak for now and do them by daylight, I don't want to use too much gas.' He turned his head and she caught the wicked shine of his eyes in the dim light. 'Have you made up your mind where you're going to sleep yet?'
'Oh yes,' she replied lightly. 'I'll use the lounge. I'll be quite all right—you needn't worry your head about me.!
He raised his eyebrows at that, then put out both hands and raised her from her chair. They stood close and she felt a shiver pass down her limbs. She could feel his breath cool on her forehead as she looked up at him.
'Sure you can't be tempted?' he asked softly, and she felt his fingertips slide slowly up the length of her arms, describe minute circles on the rounded point of her shoulders, then slide slowly down again.
Oh God, she thought, if only you knew. . . . But she stiffened her body and answered steadily: 'Quite, thank you.' She moved away and he made no attempt to detain her. 'Shall I use the shower first, or will you?'
'There's an answer to that, too,' he grinned, 'but I guess you wouldn't find it funny. Or interesting. . . . You go first, little ice-maiden. I'll have a last look round out here.'
That wasn't good either, she realised a moment later. It meant he would have to come back through the lounge to reach the bedroom, and after her shower she'd intended being in her nightie. Well, O.K. It could be managed. Quickly she rearranged the chairs, making a bed of sorts with a couple of rugs she found in a cupboard. One of the pillows from the big bed—it really looked quite comfortable, she decided. Adequate, anyway. . . She hurried through to the shower-room, acutely anxious to get through before he should decide to come in.
It was more than a little inconvenient that she had to pass through the bedroom to get to the shower, she mused, standing under the refreshing spray. And shook herself irritably at the thought that somehow she'd mismanaged the whole affair. After all, he ought to have been the one to be sleeping on the chai
rs. . . . But maybe chivalry wasn't part of the Australian scene; she'd heard that there was an odd sort of equality here, with the women allowed to do most things just as the men did—except for going into bars, for instance, or joining in the male conversation at a party. She had already been to one such function and been amused and slightly outraged by the way the men all congregated at one end of the room, leaving the women to themselves at the other. Maybe this was just another example—when there was only one bed, it automatically became the male preserve. Unless the female chose to share it. . . .
Well, that was one thing this female wasn't doing. Flair towelled herself vigorously and stepped out of the shower compartment. Her flimsy nightie was hanging on the back of the door and she slipped it on, wishing rather ruefully that she'd brought something more substantial—even a pair of pyjamas. It was hardly protection—though she'd have needed armour plating to protect herself from Luke Seager in determined mood, she thought wryly as she opened the door to the bedroom.
'Hi,' came the familiar drawl before she had time to blink. 'Have a good shower? You look as if you did—all pink and delicious.'
Flair closed her eyes in exasperation—then, opening them, realised that Luke was looking with frank delight at the picture she made in the gossamer nightie. Hastily she reached for her damp towel and wound it round her, and Luke laughed.
'Such modesty! And so needless, too. Why hide such beauty?' He moved sinuously across the room and Flair, terrified that he meant to snatch the towel away, clasped it more tightly about her. 'Don't look at me like that, little elf. I've told you before, I don't eat the small ones.' His blue eyes caressed her and her skin tingled. 'You really are an astonishing mixture, Flair Pattison,' he murmured as if to himself. 'Fire and ice aren't in it with you. You say one thing and your body is screaming the exact opposite. And you know, I'm beginning to believe that you don't even realise it.' His fingertips lifted her chin so that he could search her own green eyes, dark as forest pools. 'Do you, Flair? Do you know what you can do to men with one look from under those impossibly long lashes of yours? Do you know what you're saying when you part those soft lips; when you stand in just that way; when you—my God!' He twisted away from her with a sudden inexplicable emotion. 'If I thought you had any real idea, I'd—I'd --'