Charmed By You ((Destiny Bay Romances-The Islanders 5)) (6 page)

Finally even her mother had warned her. “Mitch is becoming impossible, dear. Try to do something about that chip on his shoulder.”

She tried, but his response wasn’t especially encouraging. “I’m supposed to be careful of the feelings of
people who trample on the rest of us to line their pockets?”
He laughed. “I’ve got better things to do. Leave me out of the socializing from now on.”

So she had. Her cousin Trevor became her escort on the more formal occasions.

“You and Trevor make a great pair,” Mitch would tease. “You should hire out as partygoers just to add class to the more common run of get-together.”

The cutting remarks began to find a target closer to home. The differences in their backgrounds had added interest to their relationship at first. But now it became a bone of contention.

Her own father was one of Flagstaff’s leading attorneys. Mitch’s father ran some kind of store in the Hawaiian Islands—Heather really didn’t remember much about it. But she assumed, from the things he said, that they hadn’t had much money.
 

“My Dad could put a whole combination deli and restaurant, complete with dance floor, in a room this size,” Mitch had complained when she first showed him the
master bedroom of the house she wanted to buy. But she
had enough money from her own work to put a down payment on it, and he grudgingly agreed to buy it with her.

Sometimes she thought the house had been a fitting
background for their estrangement. Once they moved in, it seemed they lived in twin armed camps, he on his side,
she on hers. Maybe Mitch was right: The place was just too big for two people. Built of stained redwood and tinted glass, the house had stood impassively by as their marriage fell apart. Now she intended to get rid of this last reminder of their love.

She slipped out of the little room and walked swiftly
through the hall, then down the polished wood stairway. No one greeted her on the main floor, but she could hear
sounds of revelry in the barroom to her right. She had
only to walk into the room and she would be with people
again.

Heather hesitated, looking out across the dark veranda at the light in the clinic across the road. Maybe it would
be better to go over and get the papers from Mitch. It would only take a moment, and then her worries would be over.

Over? Closing her eyes, she slowly shook her head.
Why did she seem to be fighting a part of herself to keep away from him? This was insane. Resolutely, she turned
and marched into the high-ceilinged room she had decided must be the dining room.

“Welcome, sleepy head.” Mele’s good-natured face broke into a wide grin at the sight of her. “I was afraid you were going to sleep the night away.”

Heather found herself echoing the irresistible smile. “I just might have if the music hadn’t woken me.”

The music seemed to play a constant backdrop to life in this strange house, and Heather wondered if she would
ever get used to it enough to ignore it. Even here, in the large dining room set with eight different tables all
crowded around a central buffet, she could hear the war
bling complaints of unfulfilled love.

The large woman shook her head sympathetically. “There’s nothing I can do about that,” she told Heather. “The boys have got to have their music. I’d have a real revolution on my hands if I tried to turn it down.” She grinned again. “And now I bet you’re ready for some dinner.”

Heather nodded, glad to feel so completely at home with the woman. But the dining room was empty and seemed to be laid out for the next morning’s breakfast. “I hope it’s not too late.”

Mele shrugged grandly. “Sure it is, but that’s no matter. In fact, I cooked you up something real special.” She winked. ‘’But first I got a message you’re supposed to run over to Dr. Mitch’s place as soon as you wake up.”

“A message?” Heather’s natural suspicions were aroused, but so was her curiosity. “Who sent the message?”

Mele was already propelling her toward the door. “Mitch, I guess. Who else?” She grinned. “Say, did he tell you? I’m from the same island he’s from. I used to baby sit for his cousin Malia when she was a little girl. Her mom and I were very good friends.”

“So you knew Mitch before?”

“Sure. Forever. Now you just run on over there and I’ll take care of everything else.” She gave her an encouraging shove. “You go on to the back door, not
the clinic entrance. He lives in the back part of the build
ing. He’s waiting to tell you something.”

Heather started to turn away, then whirled and stopped
Mele with a quick breathless question. “Where is Dede Sablan?”

Mele blinked. “You know Dede? She’s not around much these days. Mostly she goes from one island to another where they don’t have any doctors and takes medicine and such.” She patted her wide apron. “We call her ‘circuit nurse’ around here.”

Not around much these days. Heather hated the warm
glow she felt at those words.

With a friendly wave, Mele left Heather on the veranda and hurried back to her kitchen. After one last
glance around the lighted room, Heather abandoned it
for the dark tropic night. She had a cowardly impulse to
go back to her room instead, but she fought it down.
Then she wondered if she shouldn’t warn Mele to send someone after her if she didn’t show up within the next
ten minutes. But when she tried to think up credible terms
in which to couch her request, she realized how silly it
sounded.

No, she would face Mitch on her own. Whatever the problem was, she would soon clear it up and return for
a good dinner and friendly conversation with the Ha
waiian woman.

The back door to Mitch’s building was much more
inviting than the front. Even in the dark Heather could
see flowers blooming next to his porch.

She hesitated, her hand curled, ready to knock, and
took a deep breath, pulling in the blossom-scented air.
Then she rapped with what she hoped was business-like
authority.

What she faced when he opened the door was even worse than she’d feared. Mitch stood in a muted golden
light that laid shadows across his dark face, hiding the expression in his eyes but revealing the determined set
of his jaw. He was dressed in jeans faded almost to white
that fit tightly across his muscled legs and hips. His flowered shirt was casually tucked in and open at the
neck. His feet were bare. He looked like a pirate in his
island lair.

He stood back without speaking, waiting for her to
enter, but she shook her head. “No.” She wished she
had one of those forceful voices that everyone obeyed
without question. “No, I can’t come in there. Do you have
the papers ready?”

His smile was filled with lazy confidence. “I don’t want to talk about the papers, Heather. We have other things to discuss.”

Her pulse was racing and adrenaline was surging through her as though preparing her for the fight of her life. Something wildly irrational was warning her that a step into his room was a step onto a precipice, sky-high, with no way back.

“Write me a letter,” she forced out hoarsely. “Or tell me over breakfast at the Coconut Club in the morning. I…I can’t.”

Whirling, she meant to head for the road, but Mitch caught her before she could move further.

“Not so fast, Heather,” he breathed huskily into her
hair, his arms tightening around her from behind. “You’re
coming in to hear me out.”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “Let me go!” She pulled at the arm that held her prisoner, but she didn’t have a
hope of winning a physical encounter with him.

“Will you be quiet and listen to me?” He pulled her hard against his chest, and she closed her eyes, fighting back the dizziness. “It’s only fair, Heather,” he said quietly. She could feel the warmth of his breath as it tangled in her hair. “I want you to come in and let me show you how I live. I want you to experience it for a change, instead of denying it.”

What was he talking about? “Mitch, I don’t need to experience anything.”

“Yes, you do.” His voice was adamant. “I lived your
way for two long years. It didn’t work. We both admitted
that.” His face nuzzled into the curve of her neck, and
she barely stifled the moan that rose in her throat. “Now
all I ask is that you try my way for one short evening.
Don’t you think you owe me that much?”

Owe him? How could he be so arrogant? She didn’t owe him anything. He was the one who owed her for a lifetime of pain. But she knew she was weakening. He
was winning. He always did.

“Mitch, please...”

“Come in with me, Heather.” He was leading her in now, and she was following as though she no longer had
a will of her own. “I’m not going to do anything to hurt
you.”

She tried to laugh, but nothing came out. As he drew
her slowly into his room, she knew she had to recover
her sense of humor. It was the only defense she had left.
 

“So you’re getting me into your cave after all,” she
said, managing a light tone. “And you almost had to
resort to dragging me by the hair, I might add.” She glanced nervously about the dimly lit room. “I don’t remember you having to go to such lengths for female
companionship in the old days. Your charisma must be
fading.”

No, no! She hadn’t meant to say that. That wasn’t laughter, or anything near it.
 

She looked at Mitch with dread and found him standing, frozen, staring back at
her. She half expected him to strike back with something
slashing, but he merely agreed.
 

“I guess maybe you’re
right,” he said with what she was sure must be forced
amusement. “I haven’t found a strange woman in my
bed for three or four weeks now. I must be losing my
touch.”

A Segovia tape was playing on his system. The
soft guitar music filled the room. Heather turned and
pretended to look over his CD collection. But she
didn’t see the brightly colored album covers. Instead,
she was remembering the way women used to follow him with their eyes when he passed, then look at her with envy. He was the sort of man who made women laugh a little louder, talk a little more openly, act a little silly. It had scared her at first. Then she’d been proud. But finally, when the women started calling the house asking for her husband, she’d wished he were different.

“I can’t stay long,” she warned. “Mele is fixing me something to eat, and I’ll have to get back for it.”

He was walking into his little kitchen, and she took the opportunity to look around her. Mats of woven sea
grass covered the floor while mismatched pieces of worn
rattan furniture were scattered about the room. A bed
was placed discreetly behind a wooden screen. Each chair
and couch was fitted with overstuffed pillows in mellow
warm colors. The lamps gave off a soft muted light that washed the room in subtle shades. If Rembrandt had painted the cottage of a South Pacific planter, it might look something like this.

Then Heather’s gaze fell on the wooden table set with
plates and silverware for two people, candles lit and waiting. Three royal red hibiscus stuffed with clumsy elegance into a water glass formed the centerpiece.

Her fingers laced together tightly as she turned to face
Mitch. “Mele has dinner ready for me,” she began, but stopped when she saw him shaking his head.

“She brought it over here earlier,” he told her smugly.
“I talked her into helping me.”

Heather felt an involuntary smile curl her lips. “Is this
called baiting the trap?”

He grinned. “The way to your heart always was through
your stomach. Remember all those expensive dinners I
had to buy before you would agree to marry me?”

She nodded. “A full tummy does tend to blot out
common sense,” she agreed. “Which is why I think I’ll
pass on this meal.”

“Oh, no you won’t.” He had been working behind a
low counter, and now he emerged with a flourish, car
rying a tray containing two crystal dishes which he passed
under her nose.

“Giant prawns in spicy lemon sauce,” he announced. “The Heather I know wouldn’t pass this up for its weight
in gold.”

She sighed, taking in the marvelous aroma and noting
the firm pink flesh of the huge shrimps as they lay on a bed of tossed spinach leaves. Her stomach growled and she knew it would never forgive her if she denied it this
feast. “Maybe just one bite,” she ventured, and he laughed
low in his throat.

“Sit down, Heather. Forget to hate me for just a little
while.”

She looked into his deep eyes, then quickly away.
“Oh, what the heck,” she said weakly, despising her lack of resolve but knowing capitulation was inevitable. “I’m
so awfully hungry.”

The prawns tasted heavenly, but not any more so than
the main course—marinated lamb shish kebabs, inter
spersed with chunks of mushrooms, red onion, and pineapple, complemented by a generous serving of seasoned
rice.

“Mele’s a wonderful cook,” Heather declared, sipping the red wine in the faceted glass Mitch had poured for her. “All this almost makes me want to stay to sample
more of her talents.”