Love on Trial (6 page)

“I thought you came out here to sunbathe,” he remarked.

She stretched out on her towel with an irritated sigh. “So I did,” she murmured, but she was talking to herself.

 

Supper in the hotel restaurant was the best she'd ever had, perhaps because her swim in the Gulf had whetted her appetite, or maybe because Hawke was in a better mood. He seemed more relaxed, as if the delicious meal had taken the edge off the black humor he'd been in most of the day.

She liked the way he looked in his cinnamon colored silk shirt, worn with a lightweight beige suit that made him
stand out from the crowd. He was, she thought miserably, such a handsome man; not in the conventional sense, but in a rugged, very masculine way that made her fingers want to reach out and touch him. It was a feeling she'd never experienced before. It puzzled and frightened her, all at once.

She concentrated on her coffee. “When do we go to the bar?” she asked.

“In,” he studied the watch strapped in the curling dark hair on his wrist, “ten minutes. I contacted my informant by phone.” His dark eyes met hers across the table. “You'll have to pretend to be invisible, sparrow. I don't want anyone in that bar, especially the man I'm meeting there, to believe you're anything other than my date. It's a dangerous game, hunting a murderer. In that respect, your precious mystery writers have a valid point.”

“But, Hawke…” she protested.

“My terms, Siri,” he reminded her.
“And you agreed to them. I want you kept out of this as much as possible. I'll tell you what I want you to know, when the time is right.”

“Male chauvinist,” she grumbled. “I can take care of myself.”

“I'm going to let you prove that one of these days. But for now, you'll do what I tell you,” he said darkly.

“Yes, Uncle Hawke,” she said in her best juvenile voice. “Will you buy me an ice-cream soda?”

His eyes narrowed. “Keep digging me, and you'll wish to God I
was
your uncle.”

She made a face at him. “Honestly, you and my father…!”

“Do you think I want to find your body washed up on some godforsaken stretch of beach because you flirted with danger one time too many?” he demanded hotly. “I'd give blood if Bill Daeton would take you off that police
beat. You like the risk just a little too much for my peace of mind.”

“You're not my keeper!” she flung at him.

His eyes narrowed, sliding boldly over the bodice of her beige dress, and it was almost as if he was touching her.

“Do you burn like that with a man, Siri?” he asked in a soft, low voice. “Has Holland ever tapped those deep fires?”

She felt herself flushing. “I'd like to go now.”

“Afraid to talk about it with me?” he taunted.

“The lobster was delicious,” she replied as she rose.

He chuckled softly, walking behind her to the cashier. There was something almost predatory in the sound of his soft laughter.

She didn't believe for a minute that she might wind up being washed in on a wave with her throat cut, but Hawke was
so doggedly protective of her that it made her uneasy. He seated her in a booth in the darkened bar where the jukebox blared like an orchestra in a closet, deafening and brassy. He ordered her a sherry, ignoring the dirty look she gave him.

“Stay put,” he said, leaning over to growl in her ear so that he could make her hear him over the music. “I'll be at the bar.”

“Hawke, why are you being so…”

He caught her soft throat with one big hand and pressed her head back against the cold leather of the booth, his mouth hovering just above hers. He held her eyes for a long, static moment. His hand moved, testing the effect of the look with a finger at the stampeding pulse in her throat.

The noise, laughter and flickering candlelight faded away and there was only Hawke, bending over her, with his eyes appearing almost black under those
darkly knit brows as he studied her. His fingers lifted to her mouth, touching her lips, whispering across them, making them part as her breath whispered frantically past them.

His thumb gently pressed down on her lower lip as he bent. Dazed, her eyes dwelt on the chiseled perfection of his mouth as it opened slightly just before he leisurely fitted it to hers. It was a tantalizing kiss, so brief and light and teasing that it felt more like a fleeting breeze. But the effect it had on her was evident in her trembling pulse, the breathless sigh that passed her lips, the slender young hand that involuntarily lifted in protest when he drew away.

His forefinger pressed against her mouth for an instant, and he smiled at her with a quiet, tender warmth that made lightning spark in her mind.

Siri gazed after him, helplessly. Of course, he'd planned it, it was part of the charade. But his mouth had been hard,
and tasted of tobacco and mint, and she ached for something more violent than that whisper of promise. What would it be like, she wondered dazedly, to let him kiss her the way he must kiss Gessie; to feel the hunger and rough passion in that eager mouth, to let him touch her….

She jerked her mind back into place as the waitress brought the mild drink he'd ordered for her. She took a long, deep swallow of it and willed her strung nerves to relax. She couldn't afford to think about him like that. Hawke wasn't a manageable boy like Mark. He was a man, and he didn't play games. The chaste kisses she was used to wouldn't come near to satisfying someone like Hawke; she knew that without being told. And, for her, anything deeper was out of the question. She couldn't make that kind of commitment.

Her eyes involuntarily sought him out. He was talking to someone now; a tall, skinny blond man with a mustache. Their
conversation was intent, and Hawke frequently nodded. The blond man finished his drink and left the bar. Hawke came back to the booth, carrying a tumbler of what was obviously scotch and water on the rocks.

“Well?” she asked loudly, hoping that her nervousness wouldn't show.

He finished the drink in one swallow. “We've got to talk. Let's go upstairs.”

She gathered up her purse and followed him, away from the shuddering impact of the music. She didn't want to go back to that lonely suite with him. Not yet, not feeling this kind of longing when he could read her expressions like the weather report. But, there was no hope for it. And she was curious about what had happened to make him look so solemn.

Going down the hall, Siri sidestepped to keep from colliding with another couple and heard Hawke's sudden, deep, “Well, I'll be damned!”

“That depends on how good you are between now and the day your number's up,” came the laughing reply from the tall, blond man who grabbed Hawke's outstretched hand and shook it heartily. “Hawke Grayson! God, it's been years! The only time I see you now is on the news or in the papers. You remember Kitty, don't you?”

Hawke grinned down at the petite little blonde hanging on to the tall man's sleeve. “How could I ever forget your wife?” he asked. “Just as pretty as ever, too.”

“You lawyers are all alike,” Kitty said through a blush, smiling shyly at the husky, dark man.

“Randy, Kitty, this is my partner's daughter, Cyrene Jamesson,” Hawke said, introducing the couple to his puzzled companion. “Siri, these are the Hallers. Randy and I went through law school together. Our families were neighbors in Charleston.”

“I'm very glad to meet you,” Siri said politely.

“Ah, that's because you don't know us yet,” Randy told her with a twinkling smile.

“Honestly, Randy,” Kitty muttered. “Siri, you'll have to excuse him, it's spending so much time around crazy people that does this to him.”

Siri grinned back. “I know all about crazy people.”

“Amen,” Hawke said with a long-suffering expression. “Meet the poor man's Lois Lane. Siri,” he explained, “is a police reporter.”

“So you report policemen.” Randy smiled blankly. “Good for you. Who do you report them to?”

“It runs in his family, you know,” Kitty said in a conspiratorial tone. “His grandfather was a ballet dancer.”

“My God, why did you have to shame me like that?” Randy groaned. “Conjur
ing up images of an old man parading in a pink ruffled tutu.”

“How would you like to come up to our suite for coffee?” Kitty asked quickly. “If you're not in a hurry….”

Hawke took Siri's arm. “No hurry,” he replied. “We'd enjoy it.”

“Of course,” Siri seconded, but her mind was on what Hawke had discovered in the bar.

 

Siri liked the Hallers. Randy possessed not only a keen wit, but an inquiring mind to go with it; a fact that became quickly apparent the minute he and Hawke began discussing law. Kitty was open and friendly and simply loveable. She and Siri found an instant rapport and spent the rest of the evening comparing notes on art, music and books, leaping from one subject to the next, fired by the rapid exchange of viewpoints.

“Ladies, I hate to break this up,” Hawke said finally, “but it's past this
youngster's bedtime.” Ignoring her outraged look, he reached down and pulled her up from the sofa with a firm hand.

“Yes, Uncle Hawke,” she muttered with a false pout, and Randy's laughter burst the silence.

“That's a new role for you, Hawke,” Randy observed.

“Yes, it is,” came the deep, drawled reply, while the hard glance that went Siri's way along with it promised early retribution. “Come on, Miss Pain-in-the-neck, we've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Not all of it, I hope,” Kitty said. “We're going to that marine world place down the road, and we were going to invite the two of you along.”

Hawke glanced down at Siri. “Want to?” he asked.

She smiled at Kitty. “I've never been to one before.”

“We'll leave here about ten in the
morning,” Randy said with a grin, “if that's not too early.”

“Not at all,” Hawke replied. “And before you start getting ideas, Siri and I are working on a case, not each other. She's spoken for,” he added.

Randy seemed to flush, but he recovered quickly. “I have to admit, I wondered, even though she is a little younger than your normal…That is…Oh, hell, we'll see you in the morning.”

Hawke nodded with a wispy smile. “Goodnight.” He drew Siri along with him, leaving her to call her goodbyes over her shoulder.

He unlocked the door to their suite and let her in, locking it firmly behind him as he faced her with angry dark eyes.

“N
ow,” he began in a low, quiet tone, “what's this ‘Uncle Hawke' business.”

“Why did you have to make such an issue out of it being strictly business in front of the Hallers?” she countered, still feeling the embarrassment. “I'm sure they weren't thinking anything of the sort! Look at the age difference!”

His eyes went slowly up and down her body. “I'm looking,” he replied quietly.
“And I'll remind you that it didn't seem to matter to you in the bar. You wanted more.”

She felt herself turning red. Her lips parted, but she couldn't make a sound. She turned away, folding her arms across her slender body, feeling again the hunger, the newness of passion.

“Remind me at some appropriate time,” he said shortly, “to give you a brief lecture on the danger of provocation.”

She felt her heart pounding under her ribs. “I…wasn't trying to provoke you.”

“Smart girl,” he replied. She felt his eyes on her. “Just keep in mind that I'm past the age of hand holding and chaste kisses. If I ever start making love to you, I won't stop.”

She felt the color burning in her cheeks, and she whirled to face him with her eyes widening in something between disbelief and outrage. “I…I wouldn't let you!”

“Yes, you would; because I'd know how to make you.” He paused to light a cigarette, but his eyes never left hers. “You react to me in a way that makes my blood splinter, little girl. You may think it's carefully hidden, but I don't miss much.” His eyes darkened. “I could rouse you to a kind of passion you never dreamed existed, and in minutes I could make you give me what you've never given any man.”

“You couldn't!” she whispered huskily.

One dark eyebrow went up with a corner of his mouth. “Would you like me to prove it, Siri?” he asked gently.

Her eyes widened. Just the thought of it made her tremble. She knew he could, it was written all over her. But it wouldn't mean anything to him, except a new conquest, and she knew that, too. With a sound resembling a sob, she turned away, opening the sliding glass doors to walk out onto the cool balcony.
In this distance, she could see the chain reaction of the waves as they hit the beach in a watery white rhythm, with a sound that was violent yet strangely soothing.

She heard his step behind her, and smelled the tang of cigarette smoke in the semi-darkness.

“Did I wound you, sparrow?” he asked calmly.

She rubbed her hands over the chill on her arms. “I'm not bleeding,” she replied coolly. “I'm tough enough, Hawke. My line of work requires it as much as yours does.”

There was a deep sigh behind her. “Randy's known me for a lot of years. This is the first time he's ever seen me with a woman in a hotel when it was innocent. I didn't want either of them thinking you were the kind of woman I usually carry around with me.”

The statement made her turn to face
him, her eyes wide and curious. “But they'd probably never see me again…?”

He didn't say anything, but his eyes were intent on her face, and she saw his jaw clench as she looked up at him.

She dropped her eyes. “I'm sorry,” she murmured. “I've been touchy this week. It's my fault. I…I don't know why.”

“I do,” he said softly. “But there isn't a damned thing I can do about it.” Before she could pick up on that, he moved to the balcony railing. “Siri, I've got a good lead but it's going to mean leaving you here for a day or so while I run it down.”

“Tomorrow?”

“The day after. Can you amuse yourself until I get back?”

“Of course. But can't I come along?” she asked.

She saw the white flash of teeth as he grinned. “If you want to share a bed with me. I'll be staying in a friend's apartment.”

She knew without being told that the friend in question was female. She felt vaguely betrayed and angry.

“I didn't think it was ethical to get information that way,” she said tightly.

“What way?” he asked imperturbably.

“Well, it's a woman, isn't it?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Then…”

“You'd better quit while you're ahead,” he remarked with patient amusement. “I might get the impression that you're jealous.”

“Me? Jealous? Of you? The idea!” she exclaimed.

He chuckled softly, dangerously. “If you were a few years older, or only a little more sophisticated, I'd take you to bed and teach you what being a woman is all about.”

“You…you…how…!” she sputtered. Before she let her temper get the best of her at his merciless teasing, she ran back
into the suite, into her bedroom, and locked the door loudly behind her. Of all the maddening men in the world, Hawke Grayson was definitely at the top of the list! In the distance, she heard again the soft, dangerous sound of his deep laughter.

 

The taunting left its mark on her. She was withdrawn the next morning as she and Hawke rode along the white satin coast with Randy and Kitty. She was thankful for Randy's chatter which made it unnecessary for her to carry on a conversation.

It seemed like no time at all before they got to the marine world complex, an enormous circular building with people streaming in and out. Even though it was crowded, Siri reacted to it with the same eager curiosity that had led her into reporting. Everything here was new, exciting, and she felt like a child in a candy store.

The dolphins in the aquarium outside were beautiful and sleek, looking so delicately gentle for all their size that she felt a sudden surge of compassion for them. It was sad that animals of such remarkable intelligence that they could save men in the sea, and communicate with each other in their own unique language, were reduced to the level of performing dogs.

“Aren't they beautiful?” Kitty sighed, smiling as the trainer held a fish over the tank, which the dolphin leapt up to take gently out of his hand.

“In the open sea, yes,” Siri said vaguely. “Here, imprisoned…”

“It beats having them slaughtered by Japanese fishermen,” Hawke remarked, watching her closely.

She nodded as she met his probing eyes, amazed at the way he had of reading her mind.

“She doesn't like zoos, either,” Hawke told their two companions with a
half smile. He caught Siri by the hand and pulled her along with him. “I'll take her downstairs to see the turtles.”

“Do people eat sea turtles?” Siri asked as they went down the steps to the darker level of the building.

“Yes, honey, they do. But not these,” he added. “God, you're a little crusader.”

“I can't help it if I don't like to see things caged,” she muttered.

He turned her to him by the wall, out of the way of other tourists, and looked down into her flushed face. “Including people?”

“Including people,” she said reluctantly. “I…I don't like being a possession,” she added uneasily.

His big hands moved caressingly to her shoulders. “How would you know, little girl,” he asked in a deep, slow voice, “when you've never been possessed?”

She blushed, meeting the teasing look in his eyes. “You don't know that.”

“Don't I, sparrow?” he asked softly. He drew her slowly against his broad, hard body, feeling her stiffen even at the light contact. The implied intimacy of the action, as she felt his broad thighs touch her own, caused her to draw back as if she'd been burned.

“Coward,” he murmured. “What could I do to you here?”

She pulled gently away from him and concentrated on the shell exhibits all around the well-lit room. Inside, she was trembling with the newness of that note in Hawke's deep voice, from the unfamiliar fire in his eyes when he'd looked at her.

“Don't panic,” he said at her shoulder, “I was only teasing, Siri.”

“I…I'd like it if you wouldn't,” she replied tightly. “You said yourself once that I was still wet behind the ears. I know I am, but it hurts to have you make fun of it.”

His hands touched her waist lightly,
and she felt his breath in her hair. “God knows I'm not making fun of you, sparrow,” he said quietly.

“Then why do you…”

“God, baby, what can I do?” he asked huskily.

“I don't understand.”

But before she could turn around, or he could answer, Randy and Kitty joined them and the rest of the afternoon went by quickly as they discovered one tourist attraction after another. It was at the last one, the snake palace, that Siri balked.

“Oh, no,” she said quickly, hanging back as the other three started toward the enclosed building with its gaudy pictures of vicious-looking reptiles. “I'd rather bleed to death than walk in there.”

“Are you afraid of snakes?” Kitty asked gently.

“Oh, no,” Siri denied, “I'm terrified of them!”

“You two go ahead,” Hawke told them. “I'll keep Siri company.”

“You don't have to do that,” Siri protested quickly, and the snakes began to look better and better to her. “I can…”

“Hawke? Hawke!” came a sultry, surprised voice from behind them.

They turned, just in time to see a dark, petite little brunette throw herself into Hawke's arms and pull his head down to kiss him feverishly. Siri turned away from the sight, which went through her like a flaming lance.

“Oh, Hawke!” the brunette cooed softly, with more than a trace of Spanish accent, “what a wonderful surprise to find you here! Can you come back with Renaldo and me for a drink?”

“I'm with friends, Angel,” he replied with a smile.

“No importa,”
Angel said breezily, “bring them, too! I've got a villa near here, with miles and miles of beach. And Renaldo would love to talk over old times with you.”

“Where is your brother?” he asked,
puncturing Siri's vain hope that the missing “Renaldo” might be the woman's husband.

“Back there. Rey…Rey!” Angel called, and a strikingly tall, dark man came wandering up to join the small group. His eyes swept over Siri's slender body.

“You remember Hawke, don't you?” Angel asked with a flash of white teeth.

“Most assuredly,” Rey said. “A pleasure. And this is…?” he asked, swinging without warning to face Siri, his eyes level and plainly interested.

“My partner's daughter, Siri Jamesson,” Hawke replied with a curtness in his tone that was lost on Rey.

“A pleasure,” the Latin repeated, and lifted Siri's hand to his lips.

Hawke introduced Randy and Kitty, and Angel persisted until she got her way and had them back in the rented car headed for her villa. Oh, well, Siri
thought wearily, at least she had escaped the snakes.

But when they got to the hacienda-style villa with its seemingly acres of untouched beach, Siri wondered if the snakes just might not have been better. Between Angel's openly seductive manner toward Hawke and Rey's dead-tilt efforts to catch Siri's wary eye, it was like being caged with tigers.

The worst of it was the familiarity between Hawke and the little brunette. They were more than just old friends, and it showed. Why it should have mattered so much, Siri didn't know. But it mattered. She wanted to get out, to run, to go home. She couldn't bear the way his dark eyes played on Angel's face, and she didn't understand her own indignation.

“What do you do, Miss Jamesson?” Rey asked politely, perching himself comfortably on the arm of the massive chair she was sitting in. “Are you an attorney like your father?”

“I'm a reporter.”

“A reporter!” His eyes brightened with interest.

Siri laughed. “I work for a daily newspaper, but I cover the police beat; fires, wrecks, murders, those kind of stories. And believe me, there's nothing funny about that.”

“A woman involved in such tragic work?” he exclaimed. “You must have nerves of iron!”

“Not really,” Siri admitted, sipping the rum punch in her tall glass. “What do you do?”

He shrugged. “Not much of anything,” he admitted. He grinned. “I have, fortunately, the means to pursue a life of pleasure.”

“How nice,” she murmured appropriately.

“Yes, it is.”

She glanced at him, mentally comparing him with Hawke, who also had the means to pursue a life of pleasure, but
preferred useful work that also had its dangers. Hawke didn't seem to care for Angel's brother, and she wondered if he didn't remind him of his own father; a pleasure seeker, uninvolved and uncaring except for his own idle pursuits. It didn't sound like much of a life, but she kept quiet. To each his own, she thought.

“I wish I had not promised to join my friends for a cruise,” Rey said. “I would much prefer to spend the time with you.”