Charmed By You ((Destiny Bay Romances-The Islanders 5)) (5 page)

Heather was touched by the earnest light in his hazel eyes. Without thinking, she reached out and covered his
large hand with her own. “You’re doing just that, aren’t you?” she asked. “If you’ve been here for fifteen months...”

He took her hand in both of his, but when she looked
into his eyes, she found them haunted with anxiety. “I could’ve done better,” he said gruffly, and she leaned toward him in sympathy.

“We can only do our best in any case,” she began, but whatever bracing little speech she’d been prepared to deliver never left her lips. Mitch appeared suddenly carrying her shoes and purse.

“I see you’ve met my partner.” He’d walked up without either of them noticing, and Heather jumped at the sound of his rich low voice. He dropped her things on the floor beside her chair. “I’m glad you two get along so well.”

His hard black gaze didn’t indicate pleasure at all, but
Heather clung to Kevin’s hands in defiance.

“Yes,” she said, smiling sweetly, “we’ve really hit it
off.”

Kevin looked curiously from one to the other, then slowly disentangled himself from her grip as Mitch took
a chair on the opposite side of the table.

Mitch had removed his white coat, and the sky blue
shirt he wore was crisp cotton open at the neck. Heather
noted how tan he looked against the misty light color,
how very fit and smooth. Had the black hair on his arms
always stood so stiffly from his mahogany skin? She
wanted to reach out and smooth it down, but she clenched
her fingers into fists and suppressed the urge.

“You didn’t tell me you were expecting such a delightful visitor, Mitch,” Kevin said lightly. “I’ll bet you
planned on keeping her all to yourself.”

“I didn’t know she was coming.” His sidelong glance
flashed her way. “She dropped like an angel from the
sky.”

Heather could detect no sarcasm in his voice. There
was something curiously open and vulnerable about Mitch
at the moment. She couldn’t understand it and tried to
brush the thought away with methodical control.
 

“This
angel,” she said evenly, “came on business rather than a mission of mercy. Did you sign the papers?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

She wanted to shake him. “When are you planning to
do that little task?” she asked sharply.

He frowned. “There’s not much hurry at this point.
You can’t possibly get out of here until morning.”

“Maybe not,” she said grimly, “but I’d feel better if I had them signed and in my possession.”

His long fingers combed back his silky black hair with
undisguised impatience. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice
deepened by a disquieting huskiness, “you’ll have them signed. I won’t hold out on you.” His low laugh was taut with an emotion she couldn’t identify. “The final seal of approval, isn’t it Heather? The last word.”

She turned away from him. There was something in his dark gaze that she didn’t want to acknowledge. She looked at Kevin instead. “I’m going to need a place to stay tonight,” she said. “Do you know where I could get a room?”

“I thought you were going to stay with me,” Mitch
objected.

How had he conceived such an absurd idea? “Don’t be silly.” She looked to Kevin for help.

“Mele lets the rooms upstairs here,” he told her, his eyes on Mitch. “I’m sure she’d have something.”

“Oh, good.” Heather tried to throw Mitch a challenging
look, but the fire in his dark eyes startled her.

“You can stay with me,” he said firmly. “We’ve got things to talk about.”

A flicker of panic spread through her. She couldn’t let him take over—kiss of death. If she stayed with him, she knew exactly what would happen. She couldn’t risk becoming entangled with him again. Her heart hadn’t healed from the last time.

On an impulse inspired by desperation, she turned again to Kevin, who was looking from her to Mitch with puzzled inquiry. She could see he wasn’t sure what was going on. He probably couldn’t decide if she was really
trying to avoid being alone with Mitch or just playing hard
to get.

“I think I’ll go find Mele,” she began, but Mitch’s hand
on her arm stopped her.

“Heather,” he warned meaningfully, “don’t be absurd.”

She stared down at the strong fingers that held her.

“What are you planning to do, Mitch, drag me back to your cave by my hair?”

Kevin shifted uneasily in his chair, obviously unsure what his options were. Heather threw him an artificial smile.

“Is he always this macho with the island girls? Somebody ought to clue him in to the new century. This
rough stuff just doesn’t go over any more.”

Kevin was frowning. “Listen, Mitch, why don’t we let Heather stay where she wants to?”

Mitch’s eyes glittered dangerously. “’We’ have nothing to do with this, Kevin, my friend. This is between Heather and me.”

Kevin leaned forward. “You may consider her a girl friend, but she obviously—“

“I don’t consider her my girl friend at all,” Mitch broke
in decisively. “I consider her my wife.”

It seemed to Heather that the world stood still for a moment. There was no sound, no movement. She and Kevin both stared at Mitch in stunned silence while he looked back impassively.

Then reality flooded through her. Of course, he didn’t
mean that. He was only using it as an argument, a ra
tionalization, a way of establishing a claim that excluded
Kevin. But why did he feel the need to do that? She gazed at Mitch searchingly, wondering.

“You and Heather are married?” Kevin asked at last.

“No,” she said quickly. “We
were
married, but that’s all over now.”

Mitch didn’t say a word. He only looked at her, his hand still on her arm.

“Well, listen,” Kevin said, appearing a bit uncom
fortable, “I think I’ll go over to the clinic and check some
stuff out. I guess you two do have things to talk over.” He rose but stopped to look down at Heather before leaving. “My house is the blue Quonset hut at the end of the road, just in case you need anything,” he told her quietly. He glanced at Mitch but got no reaction. “See you later.” And he was gone.

“You got rid of him very efficiently,” she said to Mitch. “Now if you will just let go, I’ll leave, too.”

“That’s just the point, Heather,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to leave. Not ever.”

It was just the same as on that day in anatomy class.
The same dizziness swirled around her. The same weak
ness attacked her legs. She couldn’t see anything but the haunting depths of his dark, cloudy gaze, couldn’t hear anything but the rich timbre of his husky voice.

“When I opened my door and found you standing there
with the sunlight turning your hair to spun gold, I knew
I had to have you again.” His free hand reached out and
smoothed her hair away from her neck. His finger stroked
a fiery trail of sensation behind her ear. “You know it, too. Isn’t that why you really came?”

Was it? Suddenly she wasn’t sure at all. She was floating on a cloud, arching into his caress and loving it, but she knew there was nothing holding that cloud up. When the white gauzy mist evaporated and let her plummet back to the ground, would she be able to rise and dust herself off and go on about her business?

“Mitch...”

His hand curling about her chin came up to cup her lips, and she found herself almost kissing his palm as his other arm slid around her shoulders.

“Come stay with me, Heather,” he urged. “Come share my bed and my life, just like you used to.”

If only it were that simple, she would do it in a moment. But she knew what else was implicit in his suggestion. He was asking her to resume the passion they’d once shared, but he was offering no commitment. The price was too high.

Slowly she pulled away. Her lips were trembling when
she spoke. “I can’t, Mitch. I didn’t come for that. I only came to cut the last strings that bind us together. Don’t try to weave new ones. It won’t work.”

He sank back in his chair, his eyes hard and flat again.

“Where’s Mele?” he asked evenly. “I need a drink.”

Heather slid her tropical concoction across the table toward him. “Have this. I couldn’t drink it.”

She quickly slipped into her shoes and rose. “Please
send over the papers when you’ve signed them,” she said
dully. He didn’t look up. “Good-bye, Mitch,” she whispered, then fled into the interior of the building, forcing herself not to look back. But the picture of him sitting all alone, his face an expressionless mask, stayed with her for a long time.

Chapter Three

The air felt as soft and thick as cat’s fur when she
woke. The evening light was shaded from violet to deep
purple
where it caught in corners. Heather slid out of bed and went to the window to look out over the inky
blue sea.

Mele had given her a room with a view of the lagoon
and most of the village. It was a small space, but nicely
furnished with a madras bedspread and white painted
wood chairs and dresser. She’d stretched out to get some
rest, but now she realized she must have slept for four
or five hours.

There was a light on in the clinic. She wondered if
Mitch was there, reading over the papers she’d left for
him to sign.

He’d said he wanted her to stay, but she wouldn’t
think about that. It coincided too neatly with the guilty, hopeless dreams she kept locked away in her heart. The whole idea was too good to be true. Just as their life had
been when they’d first been married.

Everything had followed storybook lines. Mitch’s resi
dency was right in town. Heather had opened her studio
and enjoyed immediate success with her pastel portraits. Mitch had seemed to love his work. When his hours got
longer and longer and his attention became more and
more distracted, she’d assumed he was preoccupied with
his practice, and she’d accepted the situation. After all,
he was a doctor. That’s how it was with dedicated profes
sionals. She tried to become the best wife she could in more concentrated doses.

Meanwhile, her own work was becoming popular
among the country club set. Something about her feather-
light style caught the fancy of most everyone who saw it. When she let it be known that she was interested in doing house portraits, she was suddenly all the rage. Everyone in her social circle had to have one.

Success started when she did a large portrait of her
own family house, capturing as much of the personalities
of her bubbly mother and reserved and dignified father in the drawing as she could. It was displayed at the country club, and everyone who saw it wanted one of their own. Soon she was invited into the best homes in
the town to do portraits of the family or the family house.
Heather Carrington was a hit. With everyone, that is, except her husband.

She’d never understood why he couldn’t accept her success. He’d been so supportive of her art until then. Had he been jealous of her accomplishment—of her friends? She’d never been sure. She only knew her success had been the seed that had grown into their estrangement.

Strains of music from the jukebox below were filtering
into her room. “You cain’t go back to Jackson County...”
An occasional burst of laughter punctuated the song.

Heather felt strange here, caught in a web of loneliness. She longed to see a friendly face. Perhaps she’d
find one in the dining room of this unique establishment. The pilot who had stranded her here had at least stopped long enough to throw her suitcase out on the pier. Some
one had brought it by the Coconut Club, and Mele had sent it up to her. Opening it, she pulled out a soft silk blouse in fuschia with a mandarin collar and a linen
drawstring skirt in forest green. As she slipped into them,
she wondered if she would see Mitch again tonight.

Would he still be on the veranda? Would he be eating
a late meal in the dining room? She hoped not. But her heart beat faster at the possibility.

They’d had such fun dinners together when they were
first married. Sometimes he surprised her with the full treatment, chef’s hat and all. Other times she carefully followed recipes from gourmet magazines, sometimes with disastrous results. But the worse the disaster, the harder the laughter. She still cherished those memories.

As she’d become busier with her work, such shared
dinners had become fewer and farther between. Everyone
seemed to want to entertain her as well as hire her. At first Mitch had come along to the parties she was invited to. But it was obvious to the hosts that he scorned them as well as the people he met there.

“Nice pool,” she’d heard him tell a man who had just
commissioned her to do a set of portraits of his entire estate. “The kids on the Navajo reservation could use a pool like this. Ever think of that? I’ll bet you’ll get less use out of this thing in your lifetime than they would in one hot summer weekend.”

Similar remarks came thick and fast. Mostly they were
relayed to her by irritated friends. “Heather, I don’t know
who that husband of yours thinks he is, but he told Gerald
that moneylending had been considered immoral through
the ages. Now you know Gerald has just been promoted at the bank...”