Carolina Isle (23 page)

To David, Ariel was just like her mother. In all their years together, he'd never seen Ariel cry. She made up her mind about what she wanted, then went after it.

But the problem was that Ariel had decided she wanted an old man, R. J. Brompton. David had disliked him from the moment he'd seen him.
Brompton was a man experienced in the world and in the ways of women—all the things that David wasn't, and all the things he despised. David had only seen his father six times in his life, but Brompton reminded him of the man. Ruthless, experienced, without conscience. Not wanting to be like his father had been a driving force in David's life.

The other force in his life had been the love he bore for Ariel. In school, David had been president of every class since he was in the fifth grade. He was always on the honor role. He was the captain of the football team. At graduation, he was voted both “best looking” and “most likely to succeed.” Since he was a child, he'd been confident and self-assured. “My little man,” his mother called him.

But when he got around Ariel, he was a blithering idiot. She was like a princess living in her richly decorated house with her elegant mother, never going to school with the other children, never wearing clothes that had been made for anyone but her. Ariel had never owned a pair of jeans.

His friend Wesley said David loved Ariel because
she was unobtainable. “All the other girls are writing their phone numbers on your arm, but Ariel says, ‘Are
you
here again?' You love it.”

Maybe so, David thought. But whatever it was, he'd been her slave since they were kids—and Ariel had treated him as such. When they were children she'd give him a list of what she needed, things such as one-inch-diameter wheels, transparent fabric, and glitter. He'd swallow his embarrassment and get what she wanted, then he'd sit in silence as she used the set of miniature tools he'd bought her and create little houses for fairies to live in. She never played with him, but she would grant him the honor of allowing him to watch her play.

When he got older, he heard Miss Pommy referred to as “the Queen of Arundel” and Ariel as the princess. “Waiting for the queen to die,” someone would say, then everyone would laugh. Ariel's family wasn't the richest in a rich town, but it held the most prestige and the longest lineage.

Sometimes he'd take her to a movie. The other girls would be wearing cheap tank tops that showed their belly buttons, while Ariel would
have on a suit that buttoned up to her neck. Her idea of casual was a thousand-dollar pair of slacks and a pristine white shirt. “I just want the best,” David learned to say to Wes and to anyone else who made a comment about Ariel.

It had seemed natural to David to go from being in love with Ariel to wanting a political career. With his ability to persuade people and his belief in the fundamental goodness of mankind, he thought he could do some good in the world. And with Ariel's beauty and style, and her knowledge of manners and etiquette, he could imagine the two of them in the White House together.

Until recently, David thought that it had come to the point that Ariel was going to give in to her mother and marry him. He knew that if he could get her past that hurdle of the actual ceremony, she'd be his. Ariel was a sensual person, a virgin at twenty-four, and he longed to make love to her. He was sure that underneath her protests, she loved him. She didn't know it, but he did.

But then she told him she'd seen R. J. Brompton and was in love with him. In love with a man she'd just met? After David first heard of her intentions toward Brompton (and he'd worked
hard not to go berserk), he'd researched the man and seen what it was that Ariel wanted. She wanted someone she believed could stand up to her mother. That David had charmed Miss Pommy for all his life seemed to make no difference to Ariel.

Unless he wanted to make his love for her known—and risk permanent rejection—David had to go along with whatever Ariel wanted. He'd helped her with her asinine scheme to trade places with her cousin, and had agreed to go to King's Isle with them. It had been his help that had enabled her to get to Brompton. Did that mean it was David's fault that they were in the situation they were in now?

But David was a man who believed in looking at the situation as it was, then trying to fix it. He had to work to keep from smiling at what Ariel was saying about hating Brompton, but he knew from experience not to take her side. Ariel liked something to fight against.

“I'm sure he meant well,” David said. “After all, he's had experience in situations like this.”

“How can anyone have had experience in a situation like
this?”
she asked. “Unless he's in the
Mafia. Are you trying to tell me that the business world in New York is so cutthroat that bodies in the bathtub are routine?”

“I'm not telling you anything, but I think he's right about our staying here in this house. We should guard the body. If Phyllis wants to get something out of the freezer for dinner, we need to be here to stop her.”

Ariel whirled on him. “Are you saying that we should stay here in this house all day and just
wait?”

“Isn't that what R.J. said to do? He is—”

“A businessman from New York,” Ariel said. “What does he know?” She held up the two one-hundred-dollar bills R.J. had left with the note. “Do you think this was all the money he had? Did he give us all of it and keep none for himself?”

David made himself more comfortable on the couch, as though he meant to spend the day there. “I guess he thinks he can earn money anywhere, so he doesn't need what he had secreted away. Remember that he and Sara are workers. You and I are …” He shrugged as though there was no description for them.

“Worthless. Are you saying that you and I are
worthless?”

“Not at all. I'm sure that if anyone wanted to host a party, you'd be very valuable. But the fact that everyone on this island seems to hate us—”

“Do they? Or have they been told to stay away from us?”

“Same difference.”

Ariel sat down on the end of the couch. The tips of David's feet were under her thigh, but he didn't move. He'd never seen her so upset. “Money!” she said in disgust. “Do you realize that money is the cause of all my problems?”

David frowned. “Do you and Miss Pommy have money problems?”

“Yes!” Ariel said. “She has it all and I have none. If I just had my own money, I could live my own life.” She stood up and David wiggled his toes. “She's raised me to be as helpless as a footbound woman. My education, such as it is, has carefully prepared me for nothing whatever. I can set a table with twelve pieces of silverware by each plate. Did you know that I have never eaten a banana out of its peel in my life? Knife and fork only. Usually all fruit is cut up for me.”

David was looking at her with interest. He didn't know Ariel knew there was another way to eat a banana—or knew there was another way of life other than her own.

“What can I do in life except marry some man and plan his dinner parties?”

“I think there should be more of that in the world,” David said softly.

“Oh, do shut up! You're always thinking about your own future and what
you
want from a woman. Perfect wife; perfect parties. David, you are the most
perfect
person I've ever met.”

“Me?”
he said in disbelief. “You're so perfect—”

Ariel cut him off. “I want to
do
something.
Be
someone.”

He sat up on the couch. “Excuse me for being stupid, but how does marrying R. J. Brompton achieve that?”

“He's strong. He's independent. He'd tell my mother to get off my back, then he'd go to work and let me do what I want to do in my own life.”

“Which is?” David asked with interest.

Ariel sat back down on the couch. “That's just it. I have no idea what I want to do.”

“You could always earn some money for the
next two days, so when you see Brompton next time you could throw his bills in his face. Unless we're arrested for murder,” he added as an afterthought.

“All my life I've lived in fear of my mother. She controls what I wear, what I eat, even who I marry, but right now, when I think of that body in the freezer, I wish she'd show up here. I think I'd run to her and throw my arms around her.”

“And what do you think Miss Pommy would do when your mascara messed up her outfit? She'd be furious if she couldn't get the makeup off her clothes.”

“Makeup? Are you kidding? I don't have any makeup on.”

“Could have fooled me, but then you always look great.” David touched her forearm, his fingers beginning to climb upward.

Suddenly, Ariel stood up. “Remember when we were in the pub? Remember that I told Sara I was going to make old Phyllis dress her age?”

“I think she does dress her mental age.”

Putting her hands on her hips, Ariel looked down at him. “That woman wants a man.”

“I think she has a few of them.”

“No, not like that. Think with something besides your lower extremities. She wants a husband, but what kind of ‘husband' is she going to get wearing what she does?”

“Bikers. Teenage boys.”

“Right. Exactly.”

David smiled. “I saw half a dozen women looking at you since we've been here.”

“No, not me, at Sara. She has on the good clothes.” She looked down at her simple cotton slacks and cotton knit shirt. “These are reproductions of Sara's clothes, but still …”

“The clothes don't matter. It's you they were looking at. Ariel, you don't realize what a presence you have, what style, how different you are from other women.”

“Really?” she asked softly. “I've not been to places that other women have. I've always been cooped up with Mother.”

“And who is more stylish than Miss Pommy?”

“No one,” Ariel said. She looked at David. “Do you think that what I know is worth something?”

“I think you could run a modeling agency in New York City. Or be editor in chief at
Vogue.”

She smiled. “What about on King's Isle, North Carolina?”

“I think the lines would be out the door. Just imagine the gossip you'd hear!” David had meant the comment as a joke, but the minute he said it, they looked at each other.

“What do you think I could find out?” she whispered.

“Anything. Everything. You could get the women to tell you what's really going on.” He'd gone from laughing to serious. “Ariel, honey, exactly what can you do? Could you do one of those drugstore makeovers?”

“I don't know. I never thought about it before, but a lot of times when I see a woman I think about what she could wear or how she could do her hair to make her look better. Take Britney, for instance.”

“Who?”

“Britney. The woman you love. The one you stayed in Arundel for, remember?”

David gave a little laugh. “Yeah, love of my life. Britney. What about her?”

“She could be pretty if she tied her hair back
and quit drawing that black liner on a quarter inch outside her eyes. And her mascara clumps too much. If she—”

Ariel stopped talking because David put his hand to the back of her head and pulled her mouth to his. It was the first time he'd kissed her in any way except brotherly. It was a hard, firm kiss that let her know that he wasn't her brother.

When he broke off, he stood up, his back to her, and stretched. “I think I'll take a shower, and when I get out, we're going to see about getting this started.” He didn't glance back at her until he was at the bathroom door. When he saw that Ariel was still sitting there, a shocked look on her face, he smiled. Sink or swim, he had decided to let her know how he felt about her.

“Y
OU PROMISE, RIGHT?”
P
HYLLIS SAID
, looking at herself in the mirror. She had on half the makeup she usually wore, and was wearing a man's shirt and trousers that, to her mind, looked too big. But she had to admit that she looked … different. Classy, almost.

“I swear it,” Ariel said. “R. J. Brompton will put you up in New York for one week and he'll introduce you to at least four eligible men. What happens after that is up to you.”

“And Saks?”

“A five-thousand-dollar shopping spree.”

“With a stylist,” Phyllis said.

Behind her, Ariel made her hands into claws, but smiled and nodded when Phyllis looked at her again.

“I don't know …” Phyllis said, looking back at the mirror. “I'm not sure how people would take it if I helped you.”

“I understand,” Ariel said, straightening Phyllis's cosmetics. She'd had to pound on the bedroom door to waken the woman from her drunken sleep, and Phyllis hadn't understood a word Ariel was saying to her. “You want to do what to me?” Phyllis had asked. In the end, David had had to pull the woman from the bed and set her in front of her mirrored dressing table.

“He is gorgeous,” Phyllis whispered to Ariel as she was putting brown eyeshadow on her. “Is
all
of him beautiful?”

Ariel glanced up at David and for the first time in her life, she felt jealousy. How many women had he been to bed with? she wondered, then shook her head, annoyed with herself. “I have no idea,” Ariel answered, trying to concentrate on
the eyeshadow. Only once before had she applied makeup on a person and that had been a maid who was going out to dinner with her boyfriend of three years. When she returned with an engagement ring, Ariel felt as if she'd helped.

“You've never torn his clothes off?” Phyllis asked.

Ariel wanted to set the woman on her ear, to give her a look that said she should keep her lusting to herself, but she knew she was going to have to swallow her pride if she wanted to find out anything. “If a woman tried that, David would fight her.” Ariel had meant that David was a man of honor, but it didn't sound like that.