Memories: A Husband to Remember\New Year's Daddy (Hqn) (6 page)

“For the film?” he said, his lower lip protruding thoughtfully. “On the waterfront. José’s. He can get you pictures in two, maybe three days.”

Three days! “Doesn’t anyone here do it in an hour?”

The ruddy man laughed. “Santa María is not New York,” he said. “Talk to José. Maybe he can...rush the job for you.”

She turned away and nearly tripped on a boy of about five who was staring at her. His eyes were round and he pointed at her face before running to catch up with his mother, a tall, graceful woman in a voile dress. The woman glanced at Nikki, offered a smile filled with pity and promptly scolded her son for staring.

Nikki cringed inside. She wouldn’t be able to get out without drawing attention to herself. Though her scabs were healing and her black eye had nearly disappeared, she would still attract attention wherever she went.

She needed a disguise. Something simple. Dark glasses and a hat with a scarf attached that she could wrap over her face. With the traveler’s checks still tucked in her wallet, she could buy something inexpensive. All she needed was a shop, and certainly a hotel this large catering mainly to tourists, would have a little store.

Thanking the clerk, she walked as quickly as she could down a corridor leading to an exit when she felt someone watching her. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she saw him, lounging lazily in a chair near the terrace doors, his eyes trained on her, one boot propped on a table. Slowly, Trent pushed himself upright. His face was impassive, devoid of emotion, as he approached his “wife.”

“Been busy, haven’t you?”

Oh, God, did he hear her ask about developing the film?
Her throat was as dry as cotton. “I couldn’t stand being in the room a second longer.”

“So you decided to check up on me.”

She wanted to deny it, but wasn’t going to lie. Well, not much, especially when she’d been caught red-handed. She inched her chin up a notch. “Look, Trent, I can’t recall diddly-squat about my past, I don’t remember you, or why—or even
if
—we were married. You haven’t acted much like a bridegroom on his honeymoon, and I feel like you’re hiding things from me, so why wouldn’t I come down here and try to put a few of the pieces of my life together?”

“You
want
me to act like a bridegroom?” he asked, taking a step closer. “Is that what you want? To barricade ourselves into the bedroom for three or four days?”

“No, I—”

“It can be arranged, you know. Just say the word and I’ll carry you upstairs and we’ll get down to it.”

“
You
don’t understand—”

“You don’t understand, damn it! I’ve tried hard not to rush you, Nikki. I figured that it would be better to wait until you wanted me as much as I want you.” His lips flattened over his teeth and he grabbed the crook of her arm roughly. “You want to go upstairs? Now? Just you and me?”

“No!” her voice was strangled, and she felt fear mixed with awe at the pure animal lust in his eyes.

“I didn’t think so.” In disgust he dropped her arm and shoved his hair from his eyes. “This is driving me crazy!”

“You? At least you have a past.”

“You will, too,” he said, his voice harsh.

“Easy for you to say.”

“Why can’t you trust me?” he asked, his eyes an arresting shade of blue. For a second she saw a flicker of despair in his gaze, but it was quickly hidden.

“I don’t know you.”

He looked as if she’d slapped him. “Oh, hell, I’m not arguing about this again! Come on.” He grabbed hold of her wrist and started for the elevator.

“No!” She refused to budge and nearly stumbled as he tugged on her arm. Several old men who had been smoking near a window cranked their heads in Nikki’s direction.

“Let’s go,” he ordered through clenched teeth.

“I already told you I don’t want to go back to the room.”

His jaw worked and a vein throbbed at his temple. “Either you go willingly into the elevator or I bodily carry you up there.”

“You can’t—”

He leaned closer, so that his lips were nearly brushing her ear. “I’ve got news for you, baby. I can do anything I damned well please. You’re my wife, I’m your husband and, if you haven’t noticed, this ain’t the good old U.S. of A.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“This society isn’t quite as sophisticated as ours. Women’s rights haven’t been an issue down here. In fact, I think it’s legal for a man to do just about anything he wants to the woman he marries.”

She could barely breathe. “That’s archaic!”

“Welcome to Salvaje.”

“Great place for a honeymoon,” she muttered. “Who planned this vacation? The Marquis de Sade?”

“You.”

She went cold inside. Who was this man, this monster, whom she’d married? He tried to propel her toward the elevator, but short of being dragged, she wouldn’t move. Inching her chin up mutinously, she decided to call his bluff. “If you’re going to carry me, then get on with it. If not, then let me go!”

Grinding his teeth, he dropped her arm again. “What is it you want from me?”

“Answers. Straight answers.”

“I’ve given you answers.”

“Not enough.”

He closed his eyes for a second and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. “Okay,” he said slowly, as if forcing himself to be calm, “why don’t we go to dinner and you can ask me anything your little heart desires?”

He was mocking her, but she didn’t argue. All she wanted was the truth. Again he took hold of her elbow, but this time his grip was less punishing, and he guided her through double glass doors to a restaurant with a garden. She insisted they sit outside, and Trent, though he looked angry enough to spit nails, didn’t object.

The maître d’ led them through the potted plants to a private table positioned near the rock railing. Beyond the short wall was a view of the ocean, darkening with the coming night. The scents of jasmine and lemon wafted on the sea breeze and soft Spanish music floated on the air from speakers hidden in the lush vines and flowers surrounding the tables.

“It really is beautiful here,” she said, nervously. She wondered how she would feel if she’d never fallen over the cliff, never lost her memory, and was deeply in love with this mysterious stranger who insisted they were wed.

“If you say so.”

A waiter in red shirt and black slacks appeared, and Trent ordered wine for her and a beer for himself. The waiter glanced at Nikki, his soulful eyes lingering on her face a fraction longer than necessary before he disappeared.

“You sure you want to be here?”

“Of course I do.”

“People stare.”

“Let them. I’m not contagious,” she said, and Trent settled back in his chair. Though he outwardly appeared relaxed, Nikki knew better. There was a restless tension lying just under the surface of his calm demeanor. Hands tented under his chin, he stared at her accusingly. “You should have waited until I got back before you came out of the room.”

“I told you, the four walls and I had run out of conversation.”

“I was only concerned that you might fall on that ankle.”

“The ankle’s a lot better.”

He didn’t respond, but glanced casually around the garden, as if he were an interested tourist, but Nikki couldn’t fight the impression that he was looking for something or someone lurking in the shadows.

The drinks arrived, and after quickly scanning the menus, Trent ordered for both of them. He exchanged words and a chuckle with the waiter and slid a sexy glance in her direction. Nikki refused to be intimidated, though her stomach was churning nervously. She thought of the camera in her purse and bit her lip. She couldn’t very well develop the film with Trent around, and yet she saw no way of getting away from him today.

Placing her napkin over her skirt, she heard snatches of conversation from tables tucked between the pots overflowing with flowers. Quiet conversation and the clink of glasses were punctuated with soft bursts of laughter. People enjoying themselves, relaxed and happy, on a tropical island for a vacation.

“So you think you’re ready to take on the town,” he said, eyeing her.

“The whole island, if I have to.”

He took a swallow from his beer, then picked at the label of his long-necked bottle. He scanned the garden slowly, as if gathering his thoughts, but his gaze was wary, his lips a little too tight over his teeth.

“How’d things go at the airport?”

“Not great. We got reservations out of here, but not for a few days.”

Her heart sank a little. It was crazy, of course, and she wanted to return to her home and her life, but she felt cheated, as if she’d come to this Caribbean island with a purpose not yet served. Even if her plan had simply been to sightsee, she’d been robbed. And if this trip were truly her honeymoon, then it had become a disaster, because she and the man seated across from her were at odds, more enemies than lovers.

The waiter returned with steaming bowls of a thick fish chowder, which burned all the way down Nikki’s throat. Her conversation with Trent lagged and she sipped her wine throughout the meal of swordfish, a spicy rice dish and sautéed vegetables.

She was nearly finished with her second glass of wine when the waiter returned with a dessert cart. She shook her head. “I can’t,” she insisted, and Trent grinned widely.

“I was beginning to think you were a bottomless pit.”

“After watery gelatin, gooey oatmeal and wilted, tasteless vegetables at that hospital for the past week, everything looks good.”

“Except dessert.”

She grinned and finished her wine. “Maybe later.”

“In bed?” he asked, his gaze locking with hers. She couldn’t move for a second and unconsciously she licked a final drop of wine from her lips. She thought of the film hidden in a pocket of her purse. Would it develop into snapshots of Trent, smiling and carefree on his honeymoon? Bare-chested and incredibly sexy, with the wind in his hair and desire burning bright in his eyes? Suddenly the ring around her finger seemed heavy and tight.

Trent paid the bill, then helped her from her chair.

“I—I don’t want to go upstairs yet,” she admitted.

“You’re not tired?”

“It’s barely eight,” she pointed out. “Besides, it seems like I’ve been in bed forever.”

“Not with me,” he said, and her pulse leapt wildly. He took her arm, and she wondered if he was being helpful, or making sure that she wouldn’t bolt, that he wouldn’t lose her.

Through the opening in the rail, they walked along a sandy path that wound through the grounds of the hotel. They crossed a wide flagstone patio and passed clusters of umbrella tables. Hurricane lanterns were lit, their flames warm and steady with the coming dusk.

“I tried to call my mother and my sisters today,” Nikki admitted as they strolled past the pool. Children were still splashing in the water, but the sunbathers had left for the day, the chaise lounges empty.

“And?”

“No luck. The phone lines were jammed.”

He nodded. “My guess is telephone service here isn’t all that great to begin with, and now, with the airline fiasco, it’s nearly impossible to call out. We were lucky to get through to your dad.”

The night closed in around them. Insects droned and flitted around the lanterns and a million stars glimmered in the purple sky. Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her skirt, she said, “Tell me exactly how we met.”

He slid her a glance. “It’s not all that exciting.”

“I don’t care.”

“I was working on a claim for Connie Benson. Her car had been stolen and I had some questions for her. You were with her when I showed up and we were introduced. Later in the week we ran into each other at a restaurant on the waterfront. We started talking and didn’t stop until the place closed down. From that point on, we saw a lot of each other.” He slid her a sly glance. “You practically moved into my place that first week.”

“No!” She blushed as they walked, the heat climbing up her neck to redden her cheeks. “I couldn’t be that impulsive.”

“For God’s sake, Nikki, why would I make this up?”

“I...I don’t know,” she admitted, wishing the holes in her memory would heal. “I realize I’m stubborn. ‘Strong-willed,’ I think my mother used to say, but I’m also somewhat methodical and careful, and I wouldn’t marry someone I didn’t know well.”

“It felt right, Nikki, so don’t beat it to death.”

“Okay,” she agreed, as they followed stone steps covered with sand. “Then what about you? You don’t exactly seem like the marrying type.”

“I’m not.” He lifted a shoulder. “But with you—” Hesitating, he stopped near a crooked palm tree and his hands slid up her bare arms “—I lost my head.” He said it with a sound of disgust. “Believe me, I tried to fight you, but—” his rough hands surrounded her arms and he pulled her against him “—I lost.” His lips clamped over hers and his arms slid around her. Warning bells went off in her head, but she ignored them and felt the barriers she’d so carefully erected against him begin to erode. His lips were magical and demanding, warm with the promise of passions yet untouched. She trembled slightly, and his arms tightened around her, dragging her close. “You’re a mystery to me, Nikki. I’ve never felt this way before. You make me do things that seem entirely irrational, and yet I do them willingly,
eagerly,
for you.” His face was a mask of perplexity, as if he couldn’t understand his own motives. “I thought when I met you that I would get you out of my system. We’d have a hot affair and that would be the end of it.”

“Is that your usual relationship with a woman? A ‘hot affair.’”

One side of his mouth lifted. “I don’t have ‘usual’ relationships. In fact, I don’t have any relationships at all.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered?” she asked, not trusting him for a minute. She tried to step backward, to put some space between his body and hers, but the arms around her tightened like iron bands, holding her close, refusing to let her go.

“I’m just answering the questions.”

“So you’re into one-night stands?” she asked, her voice breathless, her gaze searching his face.

“I’m not ‘into’ anything.”

“They’re not safe, you know. Not in today’s day and age.”