In the glow of the candlelight, Jared’s starkly carved features looked taut and strained in spite of the smile. Kate was willing to bet he was probably turning a dull red. She wished the lighting was better so she could be certain.
“I was just, uh, telling the colonel here how you took on Sharp Arnie this afternoon,” Jared said carefully.
“I was very impressed, Ms Inskip,” the bartender said, sounding genuinely admiring. “Very impressed, indeed.”
“In spite of the fact that I’m one prickly little broad?” Kate smiled sweetly and sipped her drink. “In spite of the fact that I can tear a man to shreds with my tongue at twenty paces? In spite of the fact that I can’t be relied on to fetch a man his pipe and slippers?”
“Unlike our friend Jared here, I’ve always admired a female who speaks up for herself,” the colonel declared gallantly. “Never did care for lady wimps.”
“Then we have something in common. I myself am not fond of wimps, male or female.” Kate allowed her glance to flicker assessingly over Jared. “And there is certainly nothing more useless than a man who arrives too late to be of assistance to a lady in distress, is there?”
“Christ,” Jared muttered. “You want to dig your claws in a little deeper? Maybe draw some blood this time?”
“Pay no attention to him, Ms Inskip. He’s just the boss around here. I hope you will allow the management to buy you another drink. After what you’ve been through today, you deserve a second.” The colonel reached for a glass.
“How kind of you.” Kate inclined her head in a gracious gesture. “Have it sent over to the table, please. And do thank the management for me, will you? I wouldn’t want anyone to think I wasn’t properly appreciative.”
“I’ll pass the word along,” the colonel promised on a soft chuckle.
Still smiling, Kate removed the little parasol from her glass and stuck it into Jared’s shirt pocket. He didn’t move. “Very nice,” she said, stepping back to admire the effect. “No home-cooked meal, pipe or slippers, I’m afraid, but don’t ever say I lack the feminine touch. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to my dinner.” She turned away, pointedly ignoring Jared, who sat grim mouthed on his stool.
“Seems very nice to me, Jared,” the colonel remarked loudly enough for Kate to overhear. “But then I’ve always had a certain appreciation for the feisty type myself. Never boring, you know.”
Kate did not hear whatever it was Jared mumbled in response. She was quite satisfied with having made her feelings known. Jared Hawthorne might think twice next time before he entertained others with outrageous stories about innocent tourists.
Kate’s full attention was captured by the bowl of steaming conch chowder that awaited her at her table. She resumed her seat, took a last swallow of the pineapple-and-rum concoction in her glass and prepared to dig in. She’d taken no more than two spoonfuls of the chowder when she realized she was no longer alone. It didn’t take a great deal of intuition to guess who was impinging on her privacy.
“Here’s your free drink,” Jared said, looming up out of the shadows to stand beside her table. He put it down in front of her. “I’ll have the chowder put on the house tab, too.”
Without asking permission, he sprawled gracefully in the other fan chair. Kate noticed he was still wearing the tiny parasol in his shirt pocket. His hooded eyes met hers across the candle flame.
“I suppose you’d like an apology?” Jared said.
He looked right at home framed by the exotic wicker backdrop, Kate observed. The glow of the candle gleamed off his long, dark hair and highlighted his harsh, bold features. The unwavering intensity of his gaze was startling. For a moment she stared at him and saw an island lord who lived just beyond the reach of civilization; a man who could indulge himself by playing by his own rules; a pirate. Frowning, she dismissed the mental image.
“An apology?” Kate considered that. “No, I don’t think you have to bother giving me one. Apologies only work when they’re genuine, you see. In your case we both know you’d just be offering one out of fear of having insulted a paying guest who might pack up and leave in a huff. You’re only thinking of the resort’s cash flow. Don’t worry, the free drink and chowder will suffice. I’m not going to stage a grand exit just because you think I’m a prickly little broad. I have two brothers and an ex-husband. Believe me, I’ve been called worse.”
“I’m greatly relieved to hear that.”
“And don’t lose any sleep over that crack about me not being your type, because I assure you the feeling is mutual.”
Jared swore softly, his expression one of chagrin. “I’m sorry. I never meant to offend you.”
“I know. You were just telling a good story. Don’t worry, I understand. Sometimes it’s hard to resist the impulse. I should know. I make my living telling stories.”
“What kind of stories?”
“I write historical romance.”
“Published?”
“Yup.”
Jared looked momentarily at a loss. “I don’t think I’ve ever read anything by you,” he finally admitted.
Kate smiled brilliantly. “What a pity. One more thing we don’t have in common.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“I’m trying to eat my dinner. I happen to be extremely hungry. Stomping knife-wielding assailants into the pavement always has that effect on us lady commandoes.”
“Trying to apologize to a prickly little broad has the same effect on me.” Jared helped himself to one of Kate’s fried plantain slices. “So tell me, Ms Inskip, do all the ladies back in the States take two-week classes in self-defense these days?”
“More and more of us are. How long has it been since you’ve been back?”
Jared shrugged. “I go once a year to take my son to see his grandparents. That’s about it. I’m not too fond of the mainland. I moved out here to Amethyst a long time ago and I’ve never wanted to leave.”
“You like it out here where you get to play king of the island, right?”
Jared smiled slowly, white teeth glinting. “Right.”
“What did you do before you built Crystal Cove?”
Jared shrugged. “I was born into the hotel business and I grew up in it. My father was a vice president with one of the big international chains. We lived all over the world. Later I decided to follow in his footsteps. But I soon realized that, although I loved the business, I wasn’t cut out to work for a corporation. One day I chucked it all and went out on my own.”
He definitely did not look like a corporate animal, Kate thought. “Is your wife equally satisfied with island life?” Kate could have kicked herself for asking, but she suddenly had to know for certain if he was married.
Jared’s smile vanished. “My wife died five years ago. And yes, she loved living here. But then she would have been happy anywhere as long as she was with me and David. Gabriella was that kind of woman.”
“I see.” Kate didn’t know what else to say. Jared had obviously been married to a paragon, and now he was alone. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, but don’t worry about it. Five years is a long time. David doesn’t remember her and, as for me, I’ve adjusted.”
Kate was very sorry she had given in to her curiosity. She felt as though she had intruded on something very private within this man. Instinctively she backed off, looking for a way out of the overly personal conversation. “I ran into your son a while ago. A nice boy.”
Jared’s eyes reflected paternal satisfaction. “Yeah, he’s a good kid.” He paused. “Got any of your own?”
Kate struggled to find another exit. “No. My husband and I talked about it a few times, but he wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the idea. Kept saying we should wait, and then one day he was gone altogether and that sort of changed my plans.” She scowled at him. “Are you going to eat all my fried plantains?”
Jared glanced down, apparently surprised to discover the inroads he had made into the stack o
f chips. “Sorry. Again. I seem to be saying that a lot tonight. Want some more? On the house?”
“No, thanks. I’m finally getting full.” At least the overly intimate mood was broken, Kate thought in relief. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.” She stood up and reached for her purse.
Jared got slowly to his feet. “Look, if you’re rushing off on account of me...”
“I’m not,” she said flatly. “I’m rushing off so I can take a walk around the resort gardens. I’m supposed to be doing relaxing things. As I explained to Sharp Arnie, I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. I’m here to unwind. I assume it’s safe to walk around at night?”
“Sure, it’s safe.” Jared was clearly offended. “You can even go down to the beach. The path is well lit. Just don’t try to follow any of the paths that lead into the jungle or up to the castle ruins. They’re not lit, and unless you know where you’re going you could get lost at night.”
Kate’s attention was riveted instantly. “There really is a castle here?”
Jared’s expression was edged with humor. “Yeah, there’s really a castle. But no one is allowed up there except on guided tours. The place is crumbling to pieces and it’s extremely dangerous.”
“I wouldn’t be able to see much at night, anyhow. But I’ll certainly want to see it while I’m here.”
“We schedule regular tours once a week.”
Kate nodded absently, thinking it would probably be far more interesting to explore the place on her own. She had never been enamored of tour groups. “Fine.”
“And you’ll probably want to see about a costume for the masquerade ball the night after next,” Jared added quickly as Kate turned to leave.
She halted and tilted her head inquiringly to one side. “What masquerade ball?”
“In honor of the pirate who discovered this island and built the castle,” Jared explained. “The day after tomorrow is supposedly his birthday and the resort makes a big deal of it. We also use his wedding date and the date he arrived on the island and Christmas as excuses to hold the damned ball three more times during the year. The masquerades have become an institution. The guests get a kick out of them. Everyone dresses up in early nineteenth-century costumes.”
“I don’t have a costume.”
“A lot of the regulars bring their own, but for those who don’t, the gift shop rents them.”
“How nice for the resort’s bottom line,” Kate observed.
“We try to be a little more subtle than Sharp Arnie, but the goal is similar.”
“To part the tourist from his dollar? I understand. I’ll check with the gift shop tomorrow. I’ve never been to a masquerade ball. Wouldn’t want to miss anything on my vacation. I have friends at home who will expect a complete report. Good night, Mr. Hawthorne.”
“Good night, Ms Inskip.” He echoed her mocking formality with a courtly inclination of his head that seemed to suit him.
The Old World grace of the small gesture triggered another fleeting sense of recognition. For an instant longer Kate studied Jared, trying to place him. Then she turned on her heel and left.
Jared stood where he was for a long moment, watching the unconsciously elegant swing of her hips as she walked out of the bar. Then with a small rueful sigh, he headed back to his stool.
“Did you dig yourself back out of that pit you were in the last time I saw you?” the colonel asked as Jared sat down.
“She didn’t dump her chowder or the drink over my head, did she? Payoff time, Colonel.” Jared held out his hand,
The colonel sighed and reached into the till for a five-dollar bill, which he reluctantly dropped onto Jared’s palm. “I’m not sure you really won that bet fair and square.”
“Hey, you can’t back out of this, pal. You bet five bucks I’d get the chowder or the drink dumped all over me, and you lost.”
“But you did not precisely charm her, did you?”
Jared shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I think. I made some progress.”
The colonel poured a glass of whiskey and set it in front of his boss. Then he picked up a cloth and began to polish bar ware with fine precision. “I thought you said she wasn’t your type.”
“True.” Jared took a sip of his whiskey.
“You don’t usually get involved with paying guests.”
“For a lot of good reasons.”
“Granted. So why do I get the feeling you’re about to break a few of your own rules?”
“There’s something different about this one, Colonel. Something that interests me. I can’t quite figure out what it is.”
“A man who allows himself to get overly curious about a woman is a man headed for deep water.”
“I can swim.” Jared raised his glass in an ironic salute. “But as usual, you speak words of great wisdom, my friend.”
“And as usual, I’ll probably be ignored,” the colonel said. “But you might want to watch your step around that lady. You yourself saw what happened to Sharp Arnie."
“Sharp Arnie got what he deserved. But I’ll bear your warning in mind.”
“Do that?”
“Besides, what’s the worst that can happen to me?” Jared asked with a nonchalance he didn’t really feel. “She’s only going to be here for a month.”
“What if she doesn’t go home when she’s supposed to?”
“The tourists always go home, Colonel. You know that. Sooner or later they all get back on a plane and leave.”
“What if that turns out to be the worst that can happen?” the colonel asked quietly.
Jared slanted him a derisive glance. “You worried about me getting my heart broken?”
“Should I?”
“Nope. Like I said, she’s definitely not my type. She just happens to interest me, that’s all.”
“But not seriously.”
“Not a chance.”
The colonel planted both hands flat on the bar and leaned forward. “Want to bet?”
“You just lost five bucks. Haven’t you learned your lesson?”
“Jared, my friend, we both know you’ve been looking for a wife for the past couple of years. In all this time I haven’t seen you get this interested in any of the other ladies who’ve caught your eye. Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to write her off as an unsuitable candidate.”
“She said herself we’ve got nothing in common, and she’s right. Take my word for it, Colonel. She’d be all wrong for the job.”
“Because she’s not like Gabriella?”
“You know, little Ms Spitfire Inskip isn’t the only one around here with a big mouth,” Jared growled. He was about to change the subject when a movement at the edge of his vision gave him the excuse he needed to end the uncomfortable conversation with his bartender.
He turned his head slightly to watch as a bulky man impeccably dressed in a white straw hat, white slacks, white sandals and a white shirt settled heavily into one of the fan-back chairs. The candlelight glinted on the many rings on the pudgy fingers.
“Butterfield’s here,” the colonel noted, his aristocratic voice turning cooler than usual.
“I see him.” Jared reluctantly pushed himself away from the bar. “Guess I’d better go say hello.”
“You want to take him his drink?” The colonel was already pouring out a hefty portion of straight rum.
“Sure. Why not? Save him the trip. You know how Max feels about exercise. Make it a double.”
Picking up the rum, Jared left his own whiskey on the bar and made his way through the gloom to the table where the portly man sat. Max Butterfield had removed his hat, displaying a pink scalp surrounded by a fringe of gray.
The overweight man looked up expectantly as Jared joined him. He took the glass of rum and downed a swallow before saying a word. Then he beamed, displaying dimples. “Ah, manna from heaven. Just what I needed, my boy.”
“I figured it might be.” Jared took the other seat. “Is it still on for tonight?”
“Most definitely, most definitely. I’ve been counting on this little inspection tour you’ve arranged.” Max lifted his glass in a toast. “To our successful completion of this project.”
“The sooner it’s over, the better, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Such impatience, my boy. You must learn to control it. Everything in due course. Matters will be resolved soon enough.”
“How soon?”
“Oh, I’d say sometime during the next month. The fish have taken the bait. It’s just a matter of time.”
Forty-five minutes after she’d left the hotel, Kate rose from the moonlit rock where she had been sitting and started slowly back toward the lights of the resort. She thought she would be able to get back to sleep now, though her body still seemed confused.
It wasn’t just her body that was mixed up, she reflected. Her mind was definitely off track, too.
She’d been sitting on the dark beach dwelling on the subject of Jared Hawthorne, of things, and for the life of her, Kate could not figure out quite why. It was disturbing because the man was clearly not her type.
She was wise enough to know she did not have a real-life type when it came to men. The man she longed for existed only in her dreams and between the covers of her books.
On some intuitive level, Kate had always accepted that she would never actually meet her fantasy hero. She frequently joked to Sarah and Margaret that she probably wouldn’t like him if she did happen to meet him. He would be too arrogant, too proud and infuriating and much too macho for a twentieth-century woman to tolerate.
When she had eventually decided to fall in love and marry at the age of twenty-nine, Kate had deliberately chosen the sort of man modern women were supposed to covet. Harry had appeared to be a sensitive, supportive, intellectually stimulating male. There had been poetry and candlelight, art films and a shared interest in writing. What more could any woman realistically want, Kate had asked herself.
But things had gone steadily wrong, and after the divorce, Kate had been consumed for a time with a sense of failure and guilt. She knew in her heart she should never have married Harry in the first place. It had been wrong for both of them.