Last Chance at Love (18 page)

“Wait a minute. You say that was a couple of days before you came to my lecture at Howard?”

She nodded. “Right.”

“Hmm. Did you have on a straw hat and dark glasses, and were you sitting in a beach chair?”

She sat up. “Yes.”

“I saw you long before I got to you, which is why I didn’t look your way when I passed. Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Yes,” she said. “When fate gets busy, it really does its thing.”

“Excuse me.” He slipped out of bed and filled two glasses with champagne. “I feel like drinking to this.” He sat on the side of the bed, handed her a glass, eased his arm through hers, and with his gaze locked on her, drank every drop of it.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her when she sipped slowly, barely tasting the champagne. “What is it?”

Her heart swelled with love at the caring his voice conveyed.

She didn’t want to put a damper on the most important, the most precious hour of her life, but common sense told her she was in for a trial. “We have almost another two weeks on this tour, Jake. I could easily slip into an affair with you, and as much as I know I will want to be with you, I want to...to hold off till I get this story out of the way. I...uh...don’t want what I write to reflect my feelings for you. If I wrote it right now, it could be a chronicle of what a wonderful man you are.”

“I see your point, but after what I just felt with you, I can’t swear I’ll be with you day and evening for two weeks and not put my hands on you.” He got back into bed and stretched out beside her. “Damned if I want that much willpower.”

He switched off the light, tucked her to him spoon-fashion, and kissed the back of her neck. “Night, love.”

“Good night,” she whispered and went to sleep in the arms of the man she loved.

* * *

“I should be as concerned as she, maybe more so,” Jake said to himself the next morning after slipping out of her bed. He went to his room, showered, put on a pair of swim trunks, and phoned the dining room.

“Coffee, orange juice, country sausage, scrambled eggs, grits, and biscuits. Oh yes, melon and whatever goes with all that. No, man. For two. Room 302. And put a nice flower on the tray, please. Thanks.”

He waited in his room until the waiter brought the food. Jake tipped him, and took the tray next door to Allison’s room. For long minutes, he gazed down at the sleeping woman, remembering how his heart constricted when she tightened around him and told him she loved him. Not once, but twice. He sat on the side of the bed. He had always been able to withhold himself at the moment of release, to keep something of himself. But she wrung from him the essence of his being. Everything in him poured itself into her, leaving him as vulnerable as a newborn child. He’d been unprepared for it, though he always knew that making love to her would test his manhood.

Nothing in her demeanor could have prepared a man for what he experienced with her. Thoughts of what it was like to move within her sent shudders through his body and heat to his loins. He leaned over her and kissed her eyelids.

“Wake up. The ship docks in an hour.”

“Hi. What are you...” A grin crawled over her face. “Goodness. I forgot.”

“You
what?
Woman, you wound me. I expected you to dream about me all night.”

“Maybe I did. I usually don’t remember my dreams. Did you sleep with me? You promised.”

“I did, and it was a pleasure. Sit up. You’re getting breakfast in bed.”

“Really? Would you go to my closet and hand me a green robe?”

She slipped her arms into the robe, wrapped the garment around her body, and slid out of bed. He appreciated her modesty, but wouldn’t have minded getting another look at her full, high breasts. Perfect for his hands and his mouth.

She came back to him wearing a gown and with her hair combed. “What a meal!”

“You have to get back in bed. You’re being pampered. I want to give my woman her breakfast in bed.”

The giggles that came from her surprised him, until he remembered that she giggled when she was with her brother and realized it meant joy.

“Are you going to tell Sydney about us?”

She savored the coffee, her eyes sparkling the way a gold digger lights up when he pans his first gold. “Hmm, this is heaven. Sydney? Probably. He’ll ask me, and I can’t imagine lying to Sydney. Why? Would it bother you?”

“Not at all. Eat up.”

“If I had a cook, I’d eat this kind of breakfast every morning, but I don’t go to this trouble for myself.”

“Suppose you had a husband.”

She laughed, and he reached for her hand. He had to touch her. “If I had a husband and he couldn’t cook, we’d be wise to hire a cook.”

“You mean you can’t cook?”

“Of course I can, but I imagine working and keeping house at the same time is a daunting task.”

“You bet it is. I saw it wearing my mother down, but thank God she no longer has to work unless she wants to.”

She removed the pink orchid and handed him her tray. “That was wonderful, and thanks for the flower,” she said, drained her coffee cup, and licked her lips. “Yummy.”

He stared at her, eased his tray to the floor, and got into the bed. “Kiss me, sweetheart.”

Her lips, warm and eager, parted for his tongue, and he thrust into her. “Take this stuff off me, please,” she said, and he pulled the robe and gown from her body. She came back to him with open arms and swaying hips.

“If you don’t slow down, baby, this will be over before it starts.”

Heedless to his words, she leaned over him and reached down to remove his bikini, nudged him to roll on to his back, and ran her tongue around his pectorals, sucking and teasing while her hand pressed his belly. Realizing that she wanted to make love to him, he tried to turn off his raging libido to let her have her way. When she kissed his belly, he stiffened, knowing what was to come, wanting it as he wanted air and scared of the consequences.

The feel of her fingers skimming his thighs and playing around his testicles without touching them made him want to take over, but he resisted the temptation.

“
Allison, don’t do that!
Oh, Lord,” he groaned as her warm lips closed over him. His hands gripped the sheet and he prayed for control while she loved him. She had no skill at it, but the love she put into it almost sent him over. She pulled him deeper into her mouth, and he stopped her, reached down, and pulled her up to him.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, sweetheart. It was almost more than I could bear.” He leaned over her and kissed her eyes, her lips, and her cheek while his left hand toyed with her nipple. When her body began to shift, restless and begging, he bent to her nipple and sucked it into his mouth, enjoying her moans. His hand traveled to her delicate folds, and teased until the liquid of love flowed over his fingers. She reached for him, and he let her have her way as she sheathed him and brought him into her warm, welcoming body.

Her legs went around his hips, and within minutes after he began to move, he felt her begin to swell around him. He knew her needs, now, found the spot that guaranteed her complete release, and stroked her with all the skill and power he possessed.

“Honey, I...I want to burst. Oh, Lord.”

He stroked faster and harder, and she moved with his rhythm until he felt her tighten around him, sending sensations through him until he bared his teeth and shouted his release.

Shaken at his complete loss of control, he looked down at her, saw the smile on her face, and asked her, “Did you get straightened out? Woman, you tied me in a knot; I can’t believe I didn’t wait for you.”

“I was right with you. It was wonderful.”

He put his head on her breast, still stunned. “It certainly was
that.
”

* * *

Allison sat in Paris Now, at a thatch-roof-covered table for two, looking out at the azure sea. She leaned back in the chair, drinking fruit punch in the company of the man who besotted her, light-years away from the woman who she had known herself to be. Contented. Serene. Then, sudden thoughts of what she had found in Jake and of what she could lose enveloped her in sadness.

Jake reached for her hand and held it. “What’s the matter?” he asked her, and she marveled at his sensitivity. “A second ago, you were as tranquil as a saint. Unruffled. I would even say happy. Now you’re sad. Why? What happened?”

“I suppose it’s realizing I can’t stay here with you in this idyllic place forever. Day after tomorrow, Bill will be on the warpath, and life will return to normal. The way it was before—”

He sat forward, expectancy clouding his face. “Before what? Tell me. Let me understand you.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Before you loved me.”

His eyes darkened, and he didn’t have to tell her where his thoughts lay. “When didn’t I?” As was his wont, his mind went immediately to the next issue of importance. “Unless we want to spend more time on this island than we’d planned, we’d better head for the
Saint Marie.
”

The taxi driver drove them through the upscale sections of Fort de France, Martinique’s modern capital city, boasting of the beauty of the colonial homes and estates. “How can he be so oblivious of the fact that the wealth he seems so proud of was accumulated at the expense of his own people?” Jake muttered, adding that most of them still struggled to eke out a living.

“Aren’t we getting on now?” she asked him when they reached the ship. She had expected to see a crowd lined up to get on, but only she and Jake were at the pier. She looked at her watch. Five after four. Almost an hour early. Her left shoulder lifted and quickly fell. Maybe he misread the time.

He leaned against the pier, relaxed and unconcerned. “Looks like we’re the first ones back. Let’s do some people-watching.”

He didn’t answer her question, and she had an urge to tell him she noticed that, but pushed the thought aside. “You must really enjoy this,” she said, observing that he talked with her without moving his gaze from the crowd that had begun surging toward the ship.

“People-watching is an author’s favorite pastime. Didn’t you know that?”

She didn’t. Feeling bereft of his attentiveness, she moved closer to him, but he didn’t take her hand, and she began to question what she regarded as his fixation on a gang of strangers.

“Let’s go,” he said suddenly, grabbed her hand, crashed the line, and boarded the ship. “You go on to your stateroom; I’ll be up shortly.”

No apologies, and no explanations. She found it difficult to digest his often odd behavior, wondering whether he had seen a woman friend or someone else he knew, or if he was avoiding someone.

He’s so mysterious,
she mused,
and this isn’t the first time he’s done something strange on this ship, something that he either couldn’t or wouldn’t explain.

Believing she should pull back, she went to her stateroom and began organizing her notes, knowing that focusing on her work would bring her out of the clouds and down to earth.
Innocent until proved guilty,
her conscience cautioned her. “Yes,” she said, letting herself remember how his white teeth sparkled against the olive velvet of the face she loved to touch and the way her body responded to the feel of his strong tapered fingers. She leaned back in the chair, lost in the world that he alone had created for her, as her mind replayed the wonder of his holding her, loving her, and then coming apart in her arms. She didn’t know when her annoyance at him evaporated as she sat with her arms folded across her chest and let herself dream.

The ringing telephone shocked her out of her ruminations. “Hi. Did you get some rest?” Jake asked when she answered. “How about going for a snack? It’s another three and a half hours before dinner.”

“I thought I’d organize my notes and maybe order tea and a light sandwich here in the room.”

“Then, I’ll see you at seven-thirty. I’m going for a swim and then a light snack.”

He seemed glad to have the time to himself, she thought. She didn’t understand men, she decided, and she’d give a lot to know what wound their clocks. She worked until six-thirty, showered, and dressed in the red silk sheath that she brought for the evening’s dinner and the gala. Then she combed out her hair, applied a very light layer of rouge to her cheeks, dabbed Arpège perfume in strategic places, sat down, and waited for whatever the evening would bring.

Chapter 8

“N
o telling what she’s thinking now,” Jake said to himself as he sped down the long corridor toward the laundry room, certain that he would find Ned, Lena, or both of them there or, if not them, a couple dressed like them. When Ring met him in the corridor, Jake sensed he was on the right track. The man wearing the straw hat and the red plaid shirt seemed to him a bit older than the Ned he had met the previous evening and didn’t walk with the jauntiness of a young man. Finding no one in the laundry room, he headed for the kitchen.

“Hi.” He addressed the chief. “The food’s been spectacular. Any chance of getting a recipe for that great rock-shrimp rémoulade you had on the self-serve counter yesterday afternoon?”

The chef preened at the compliment, as Jake knew he would. “For you, my friend? Of course.”

While the chef went for his book, pen, and paper, Jake let his gaze roam around the kitchen. On his previous visits there, he had counted sixteen men in cooks’ uniforms. When the chef handed him the recipe, he thanked the man and, having guessed which cook was absent, asked, “Where’s Ring?”

“Should be over there in the salads. If he’s not there, he may be getting a smoke. Smoking’s not allowed in the kitchens.”

“Where’d he get that name? Is it a nickname?”

“The fellow comes from one of those classy families, but he’s the youngest and a ne’er-do-well, so they’ve disowned him, and he changed his name from Harderin to Ring. Kids don’t appreciate what you do for ’em these days.”

Jake walked around to the salad and vegetable section in time to see Ring rush in and grab his apron and cook’s hat. He got out of the way before Ring saw him. He ran up the E staircase until he reached the first deck, above the water, took out his cell phone, and dialed the chief. He got more information in those few minutes with the chief than he had all day.

“Ring is the youngest son of the Cambridge Harderins, and the chef says the family has disowned him. Another thing. Have somebody at the dock to pick up Lena and Ned. I have a feeling the guy who got on in Martinique posing as Ned may be his father or brother or who knows who, but it isn’t Ned. And check to see if a man reports a lost passport in Martinique.”

“If your hunch is right, we may be on to something. Good show, man.”

“Yeah. I hope you’ll be around to repair my relationship with my friend, when it comes to that.”

“Hold on. By now, you should have crowned her queen. Didn’t I make it easy for you? How do you like your staterooms?”

“Great,” Jake said in a voice that amounted to little more than a snarl. “When I grow up, I want to be as smart as you.”

If he’d ever seen or heard the chief laugh before, he didn’t remember it, and the heavy rumble that came over the phone like the sound of someone gargling a sore throat momentarily stunned him.

“You just made my day, sir,” he said when he recognized the sound as a laugh.

“Hmm, and you’ve certainly made mine,” the chief replied, sobriety having returned. “Think you can get off first, stand at the pier, and point those three out to my men?”

“Do my best. If I can, I’ll get pictures of Lena and Ned and email them to you tonight. It’ll be late, thought.”

“Great. Expect a promotion when you return to work full-time.”

“Thanks. I think.” He hung up with the rumble of the chief’s laughter teasing his ear. He had a difficult job ahead, and he had to figure out how to do it without ruining his relationship with Allison. But first, he wanted a swim and something to eat. He phoned Allison, uneasy about the reception he would get.

“Hello,” he heard, surprised at the merriment in her voice, for he knew she suspected he was her caller.

Relief flooded his whole being. “Hi, sweetheart. Did you get some rest? How about going for a snack?” When she told him she planned to work and have a snack in her room, her manner let him know that it wasn’t a brush-off. “Then I’ll see you at seven-thirty.”

After three laps in the Olympic-size pool, he got out, threw on the white terry-cloth robe provided there for the swimmers, stuck his feet in a pair of sandals, and went to the snack bar. He put rock-shrimp salad, a roll, and a glass of lemonade on a tray, got a table on deck, and let the sun and soft sea breeze tranquilize him.

He had expected to hate the tour, because he had low tolerance for small talk, and what else could one expect of a one-minute conversation with a stranger? The complications he had expected as a result of Allison’s presence on the tour had not materialized. Instead, he’d found a woman who suited him socially, psychologically, and physically. He liked an intelligent goal-oriented woman who stood up for her rights. And she was that, the kind of woman who kept a man on his toes and his engine revved.

By the time he left the deck an hour and a half later, he had a plan for delivering Lena and her cohorts to the feds. Deciding not to risk a nap, he prowled around the
Saint Marie,
seeking evidence of stowaways, but found none. At seven-thirty he knocked on Allison’s door.

Allison opened the door and stared at Jake, resplendent in a gray tuxedo, red cummerbund and handkerchief, and black patent shoes. She knew her face mirrored her pleasure in seeing him, and she didn’t try to hide the fact. How glad she was that she wore the red silk sheath she’d purchased especially for the gala evening, for his eyes shone with delight as he nodded his head, appreciating what his eyes beheld.

“Beautiful.” He breathed the word. “How did I get to be so fortunate? Lovely,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek. “Everyone will think we planned to dress this way.”

“I was thinking the same thing. You look wonderful.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I tried.”

She couldn’t get used to the diffidence in him. “It’s not much of a stretch,” she said in what she meant as a mild reprimand. The man had to know that he could knock a woman’s socks off just by showing up.

After the reception for first-and veranda-class passengers, they took their places at the table assigned to them. “This is my next to last chance to observe the people and how they behave,” he told her, “so I may seem a little inattentive. I’ve noticed two people who fit a character I’ve got in my head.”

“I’ll forgive you, if you promise to make it up to me.”

He did for her what a magnet does for nails as he smiled down at her, his wink reinforcing his magnetism. When her breath quickened, his nostrils flared and his eyes possessed her. She lowered her gaze, wondering where her passion for him would lead, but for the first time, thinking about the possibilities did not distress her. He reached for the hand she’d placed in her lap, gazed down at her, and grinned. “There’s not a woman in this room who can hold a candle to you.”

She tried to smile, praying that he would still feel that way when he read her story of him in
The Journal.

However, although from his smile and the lights in his eyes he seemed the ardent lover, Jake’s mind was not focused on Allison, but on the two empty seats at their table. He had been careful to cover his every move, and he knew that no one on that ship could identify him as an agent. So where were Lena and Ned? They had boarded; he knew that much. He resisted checking the breakfast room, also referred to as the cafeteria; but not going there cost him a lot in anxiety.

The waiters began to serve the first course, and he accepted that “Ned” might forego the meal so as not to show his face. But shortly after they began eating, Lena and Ned arrived, took their seats, and apologized for their tardiness.

Jake’s heartbeat accelerated when “Ned” smiled, for the Ned who sat with them the night before did not have a left gold incisor and a vacant piece of a crown on the right side of his mouth. Satisfied that he had his man, Jake turned his attention to Allison.

“Did you say you wanted us to go to Idlewild next weekend?”

She nodded. “I thought you had forgotten it.”

“Not a chance. Unless circumstances are beyond my control, I make good on my word. Did you say something special is going on up there next weekend?”

“The annual barbecue feast, and my aunt is one of the prime movers, so she’ll have a fit if I don’t go. Left to her, the place would be crawling with people every day of the year.”

The possibility occurred to him that a jazz band might have been engaged for the festivities. He had to be sure.

“What kind of entertainment do they usually have?”

“Gee, I don’t know. The barbecue starts Saturday around noon and continues through Sunday.”

“I can go up with you Friday evening, but I need to get back home late Saturday. And don’t forget we’re scheduled to leave for San Antonio Monday afternoon.”

She looked down at the table, folded and unfolded her hands. “I have to be circumspect around my aunt, so we—”

He interrupted her. “Honey, what do you take me for? I’d never compromise you. Besides, I’ll stay at the inn.”

“But my aunt would be mortified if you did that. She lives alone in a big house. It’s just that...that you can’t walk in your sleep.”

“Huh?” He threw his head back and laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Lady, if I ever walked in my sleep, I didn’t hear about it. You be sure you don’t do that.”

“I’ll give myself a good talking-to before I go to bed.”

The dinner feast went on for nearly two hours, and then the entertainment began with the waiters in a conga line singing “Roll Out the Barrel.” Waiters passed a microphone around to patrons, asking them to sing a few bars of their favorite song. He nearly jumped out of his chair when Allison begin singing “Summertime,” her beautiful soprano lovelier than the voices of all the singers who sang before her.

“You could have had a successful career as a singer,” he told her.

“I wanted to be a singer, but my mother wouldn’t hear of it; she looks down on entertaining as a profession. Says it’s demeaning.”

“What? Is she serious?”

“Yes, she certainly is. When I told her you were a writer, her next question was, ‘Did he win the Noble Prize?’ We have nothing in common, and there are times when thinking about it makes me so sad.”

“That’s a pity.”

The meal over, the waiters announced the traditional midnight supper, when the cooks would display their artistic skills, presenting elegant and intricate aspic-encased meats, poultry, and wild game, as well as salads and prize-winning desserts. The waiters asked the guests at that table how they enjoyed the food, and, after receiving a chorus of approval, passed the hat, which returned to them full of twenty-dollar bills.

As Jake had hoped, wine, and plenty of it, had the passenger in a mellow mood. He took his cell phone from the inside breast pocket of his jacket, stood, and looked at Allison.

“Smile. I want a picture of you as a reminder of one of the most wonderful three days of my life.” Her slight frown told him she questioned his saying that loud enough for everyone at their table to hear it. “Smile, sweetheart.” She did and he clicked the camera built into his phone.

Quickly, he turned to the other guests, said, “Everybody smile,” and photographed Lena and her Ned just as a loud gasp escape the woman. Pretending not to have heard it, he grinned displaying a pleasure more genuine that any of them could have realized.

“Thank you all. I’ll keep this little memento forever.”

* * *

“I’m not up to midnight supper,” he told Allison later as they strolled on deck. “After that dinner, I don’t see how I can begin another meal two hours from now, but if you want to, of course, I’ll go with you.”

“It’s a beautiful night,” she said. “Let’s play it by ear.”

How unlike her!
he thought.
She usually wants everything cut-and-dried, but she chooses to be uncertain at a time when I need to account for very minute.
Well, it was the chief’s idea, and he had to deal with her presence as best he could.

Making certain that he understood her, he stopped walking, took her hand, and asked, “Are you telling me you want us to...to be together tonight?”

“No...I... What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s the last night on the ship. Do you want to spend the night with me?”

When she didn’t look at him, he had his answer. “I... Don’t
you
want to?” she asked him, and he had a feeling she was about to give him a display of temper.

He put both arms around her and brought her close to him. “Shame on you. How could you doubt it? You like to know you are desired, that I want you. Well, I need the same assurance.”

They went inside, and when the music to “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” came over the loudspeaker, Allison looked at him. “Come on, don’t you line dance?”

He shook his head. “You go ahead and enjoy it. I’ll wait right here.”

He liked to line dance occasionally, though he didn’t think it went well with ball gowns and tuxedos, but he wanted to send the chief the photo of Lena and “Ned.” After emailing it along with directions for the department’s man the following morning, he found a chair and watched the dancers.

A sweet and terrible hunger stirred in him as he watched her move to the music, her lithe body supple and enticing in that red guided-missile that hugged her frame. If it pleased her to have his company, he would eat a midnight supper, though he didn’t want it, and he would dance all night, although he wasn’t in the mood.

That foot-stomping country tune ended and the sound of “Diane,” one of his favorites, filled the air. He reached Allison just as a man who had been dancing beside her turned to ask for a dance.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said, putting an arm around Allison’s waist, “she’s my date.”

The man looked up at Jake as if to measure his chances, smiled, and said, “Some guys have all the luck.”

He moved with her in three-quarter time and sang the first words of the romantic tune softly for her ears alone. “I’m in heaven when I see you smile” were the words he sang to her, and she closed her eyes and stepped closer to him.

Life had never been easy for him, and he neither wanted nor expected it to be. He had always welcomed a challenge as an opportunity to succeed, even to excel, but for the first time he resented the hurdle facing him, hated the mountain of secrets and unexplainable actions on his part that could tear her from him for all time. She had her secrets, too, and he suspected that they loomed equally large in her life. For the first time, too, he admitted to himself that he didn’t know what he would do if he lost her.