Stormy Vows/Tempest at Sea (11 page)

He started the motor, but did not put the car into gear. He turned to face her, his expression serious. “You need a break, Brenna,” he said quietly, his fingers lightly tracing the faint shadows beneath her eyes that even makeup had not been able to cover entirely. “Jake may be a cinematic genius, but he'll ride roughshod over anything that gets in his way. I'd forgotten you were so vulnerable, or I wouldn't have stayed away so long.” His
tone was infinitely gentle, his eyes enfolding her in a flowering warmth that could be tenderness.

Brenna caught her breath, and forced herself to look away before that gaze completely dissolved any resistance she could muster to Donovan's powerful charisma. “I'm really quite all right,” she insisted shakily. “I'm much tougher than I look.”

His hand reached out to encircle one fragile wrist, and she jumped involuntarily at the sensation that passed through her at his casual touch.

“I have no doubt you have the heart of a lion,” he said lightly. “But it's obvious that your physical stamina doesn't match up. A puff of wind could blow you away.” His eyes darkened angrily. “What the hell could Jake have been thinking of to let you get in this shape?”

A sudden poignant warmth shot through Brenna, melting any remaining resistance. It had been so long since she had had anyone to worry about her physical well-being, she thought mistily. Not since Janine had died, had anyone expressed any personal concern for her. Even with Janine it had been she and not her older sister who was the caretaker. Thinking back, Brenna couldn't remember anyone who had given her this wonderful, comforting feeling of being treasured. She felt a sudden urge to surrender, to throw off the burden of independence and responsibility that seemed too heavy to bear, to lean on Donovan's vibrant strength that she knew would so effortlessly shield her. She knew this mood wouldn't last; soon her independence would reassert itself, and she would once again be ready to do battle in the arena. But not now. She was so tired. Surely it wouldn't hurt to lay aside her armor for just a little while and be young and carefree.

She turned once again to meet his eyes and asked quietly, “So what do you suggest?”

“I have a cottage on a tiny island just off the coast,” he said, his narrowed eyes on her face, weighing her every reaction. “We
can be there by helicopter in an hour. It's quite beautiful and very peaceful. No telephone, no television, and no Jake Dominic to intrude on your rest. I promise to have you back in your own chaste little cottage before sunset.”

“You make it sound very appealing,” Brenna said slowly. It sounded like paradise, she thought longingly.

Donovan's rapier eyes read the wistfulness in her face, and he moved in with swift aggression. “I'm not about to rape you, if that's what you're worried about,” he said bluntly. “I would hardly incur the expense of a full day of lost production, just to get you into bed. That would make you very expensive, indeed. I don't promise not to try to make love to you, but it will be you that sets the pace. All you have to do is say ‘no.’”

“I'll go,” she said recklessly.

An almost boyish smile lit Donovan's rugged features. “Great,” he said tersely, and putting the car in gear, he backed out of the parking space and drove rapidly out of the lot.

six

THE WHIR OF THE SCARLET HELICOPTER'S
rotors died to a whisper, and Donovan reached across to unsnap Brenna's seat belt with swift economical movements. “Stay where you are,” he ordered briskly. “I'll come around and help you down.”

Brenna nodded absently, as she peered eagerly through the window at the small clearing surrounded by towering pines. They had landed on a square concrete landing pad, and she watched impatiently as Donovan attached lines to the helicopter from steel links embedded in the concrete. He paused to look speculatively at the darkening sky to the west, before coming around to the door and opening it.

“Looks like we're going to get a bit of a storm,” he said, as he reached up and, placing his two hands firmly on her waist, swung her easily to the ground. “I was hoping the weather would be good, so that we could go out in the boat,” he said frowning. “Are you a sailor, Brenna?”

“I have no idea,” she said simply. “I've never been on a boat.”

She had said the same thing about flying, when they had arrived at the private landing strip on the outskirts of Twin Pines a little over an hour ago.

Shutting the helicopter door, Donovan took her hand in his and set off up the pebbled path that led across the clearing, into the dense stand of trees.

“I have an idea a man could become addicted to providing you with new experiences, Brenna Sloan,” he said thoughtfully. “It would give him a never-ending source of pleasure.”

She made a face, as she gave a half skip to keep up with his lengthy stride. “Where were you ten years ago?” she asked lightly. “Orphanage brats lead notoriously dull lives.”

His hand tightened protectively around hers. He didn't look at her as he asked quietly, “Was it very bad, Brenna?”

“The children's home?” She shook her head. “No, not really bad,” she said matter of factly. “Lonely, sometimes.”

They had reached the glade now, and Brenna cocked an eyebrow inquiringly. “Would it be too much to ask where we're going?”

“The cabin is about a quarter of a mile from here,” he said. “I thought we'd stop there first to take some steaks out of the freezer, before we take a hike around the island.” His eyes appraised the horizon critically. “It looks like the storm may hold off for a while. It's moving slowly.”

After that, they moved in companionable silence through the woods. Brenna breathed in the pinescented, pungent air with warm contentment. For a city bred person like herself this simple walk through the woods had all the attraction of the exotic. She was as lighthearted and happy as a child at this moment, and a great part of it was due to this man, who was holding her hand with such casual camaraderie.

From the moment she had agreed to come to Donovan's island, he had been everything one could have wished in a companion. He had carefully kept any sign of sexual awareness from his attitude during the time he had driven her to the cottage, and waited while she quickly changed into white shorts, sneakers, and a yellow sun top. She had washed the heavy makeup off and
hadn't bothered to replace it, relying on the glowing perfection of her healthy skin. She had hurriedly brushed out the elaborate hairdo, letting her hair fall in its usual gleaming curtain down her back. Then they had hurried like two eager schoolchildren to the airstrip to board the helicopter. Somehow it did not surprise her at all that Donovan could pilot the helicopter himself, and was also licensed to fly the Lear jet that was hangared at the field. A man as dominant as Donovan would want to be fully in command, wherever he was.

They had been walking for about five minutes and Brenna could see the outline of the redwood chalet in a distant clearing. She asked curiously, “Don't you find such a totally isolated hide-away inconvenient? I should think you would at least want a telephone to keep in contact with your business interests.”

Donovan shook his head decisively. “No way!” he said curtly. “I bought the island two years ago for the express purpose of having a place to go when I wanted to do some writing. I wouldn't get anything accomplished if I could be reached by phone. If anything urgent comes up, Monty can always hire a helicopter or a launch to bring him over.”

They had reached the clearing now, and Brenna saw the A-frame chalet. The cabin, while charming, was really quite small. When she commented on this, Donovan smiled, his blue eyes dancing.

“It was quite large enough for the original owner's purpose,” he said dryly. “I bought it from one of Dominic's playboy buddies, who had it built to his own specifications.

Suspecting that she knew the answer already, she asked, “And that purpose was?”

“A love nest,” he said succinctly.

“I see,” Brenna said thoughtfully, her eyes gleaming curiously, a question trembling on her lips.

“And, no, I have never used the cabin for that reason.” He anticipated her question with a grin. “I come here to work.”

Donovan unlocked the door and, with a mocking gesture, indicated that she should precede him, then followed her closely so that he could see her reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

Brenna gazed around as wide-eyed as a child. A love nest, indeed, she thought faintly. The chalet had a floor plan that provided no privacy whatever. The living room area flowed into the tiny kitchenette with only the free-style cabinets to divide the room. A spiral staircase led to a half-loft that was occupied by a king-sized bed and two bedside tables. The decor was contemporary, with the accent on comfort, and sang with glowing reds and orange. A huge stone fireplace dominated one wall, with a long, scarlet couch and a white fur rug placed cozily before it. There was an almost overpoweringly intimate atmosphere about the chalet, and she was filled with a strange tension under Donovan's mocking stare.

“What, no communal bathing?” Brenna asked jokingly, her eyes not meeting his.

“Now that you mention it,” he said lazily, and sauntering over to the far wall, he slid a decorative panel aside to reveal an enormous emerald green sunken tub, surrounded by several white potted ferns.

“The poor fellow was painfully obvious, wasn't he?” Donovan commented casually. “One hopes his little playmates came here with the same aim in view. One look at this setup would send any shrinking violet running for the hills screaming bloody murder.”

He slid the screen closed, and, ignoring Brenna's scarlet face, strode quickly to the tiny kitchen. Rummaging in the compact freezer, he triumphantly extracted two paper-wrapped packages and put them in the portable microwave, pushing the button to defrost.

“All set,” he announced crisply, coming around the counter into the living room area. “Shall we go?”

Brenna nodded quickly, and hurried out the door and down
the steps, conscious all the time of Donovan's amusement. Once outside, she breathed a covert sigh of relief, and, turning to Donovan, asked eagerly, “Where shall we go?”

He smiled indulgently at the glowing eagerness on her face. “I thought we'd climb the hill and watch the storm approach. It can be quite an experience. Would you like that?”

“I'd love it,” Brenna said enthusiastically, her brown eyes shining.

“You're easily pleased,” Donovan said dryly, as he took her hand once more, and they set off toward the hill he had indicated. “The last time I saw that much enthusiasm on a woman's face, she'd just been gifted with a diamond bracelet.”

“By you, no doubt,” Brenna said lightly, ignoring the twinge she experienced at the intimacy implied in Donovan's comment. She was determined to let nothing spoil this day. “How cynical you and Jake are about women. There are a few women in the world who aren't for sale, you know.”

Donovan's hand tightened painfully on hers, but his voice was even as he said carefully, “You appear to have a fairly intimate knowledge of Jake's attitudes. Could it be that Jake has been up to his usual shenanigans?”

For a moment she was tempted to lie, to see if she could break the tight control on Donovan's face, but then she discarded the impulse. She wanted no tension to destroy the harmony of the moment. She shook her head. “Nope,” she said matter-of-factly, making a face. “The only interest your charming friend has in me is purely analytical. He wants to see how hard he can push me before I collapse.”

Donovan's grip relaxed fractionally. “And I'll lay odds he'll probably be there with open arms to catch you when you do,” he said dryly.

Brenna giggled helplessly, as she suddenly had a mental picture of a villainous Dominic, complete with moustache and flowing cape, clutching her in a Valentino-style embrace.

A smile tugged at the corners of Donovan's lips at the contagious quality of her mirth.

“I'm glad you find the idea so amusing,” he said lightly. “I assure you that is not the usual feminine reaction to Jake.”

She tossed her head, tilting her nose saucily. “I've come to the conclusion that you both take yourselves far too seriously,” she said sweetly, as they started up the twisted dirt path that led to the top of the hill. “It's about time someone took you down a peg.”

Donovan cocked an eyebrow. “You're feeling brave today, aren't you, sweetheart?” he murmured softly. “That wouldn't be in the nature of a dare, would it?”

She backed down hurriedly, at the dangerous glint in his blue eyes. “You and Jake have been friends for a long time, haven't you?” she asked quickly, hoping to distract him.

There was a short silence before Donovan accused softly, “Chicken! I'll let you escape this time, but don't issue challenges unless you're prepared to follow through, Brenna.” He watched with amusement as color flooded her cheeks, before he took pity on her. “In answer to your question, Jake and I have been friends since college. We both attended UCLA.” He grimaced wryly. “Not that we moved in the same circles. I was a slum kid working my way through by doing construction work on the side, and Jake was heir to Dominic's Shipping—the original golden boy.” The look in Donovan's eyes was far away as he murmured, “We were a mismatched pair. God knows why we didn't hate each other. I was a defensive young tough with a king-sized chip on my shoulder, and Jake was a hell-raising bastard who didn't give a damn about anyone. We were at each other's throats constantly, until we found we had one thing in common that made all our differences minute in comparison. We both felt that film-making was the ultimate art form, and we were both determined to make the best damn pictures in the history of the business.”