More Than Paradise (11 page)

Ash stared bleakly at the menu. Nothing sounded appetizing and the descriptions of the dishes seemed weirdly sexual. Chicken bathed in a velvet merlot sauce. Succulent oysters clinging to the half shell. Ash didn’t want to dip crusty French bread into a warm artichoke spread, she wanted to dip her tongue into Charlotte. And, shockingly, she wanted to wake up to her the next morning.

• 75 •

JENNIFER FULTON

There had to be a reasonable explanation for her disturbing mind-set. Was she having some kind of reaction to the stressful situation with Emma? The thought of possibly losing the one person left in the world who knew her and loved her no matter what, the person her universe had revolved around for so long, was unbearable. Had it driven her into a panic state?

Charlotte possessed something Ash also saw in Emma, an innocence and tenderness that brought out the best in her. When she was with Emma, she tried to be the person her sister thought she was. A good person. Someone who led a blameless existence and could always be depended upon. And she actually felt like that person. She needed that and she was afraid that if she lost Emma, the feeling would be lost with her.

“I’m sorry, did I say something to offend you?” Charlotte studied her with a trace of alarm.

Ash shook her head, realizing it had been her turn to speak but she was too busy navel-gazing. “No. Just having a menu dilemma.”
Leave
now,
she thought. “Listen, I need to make a call before we eat.”

“Would you like me to order for you?”

“Sure, thanks. The ginger chicken skewers.” Ash made a show of Þ shing her cell phone from her jacket. She could feel Charlotte’s eyes on her as she rose and walked away.

She headed out into the stiß ing night air and stood a few yards from the doorman, wondering why she’d imagined that standing out here in this tropical soup would help clear her head. Having dinner with Charlotte Lascelles was the dumbest decision she’d made in years. Did she crave self-punishment? Did she want to spend a whole evening staring down the barrels of the life she might have had, the kind of woman she could have come home to every day, if things were very different? Ash paced up and down and puffed on a cigar, thinking through her options.

The pragmatic, sensible choice was to write a quick note claiming she’d been called away, pay for the meal, depart, and never look back.

The next option was to play the game she knew—get Charlotte into bed, have a good time, and say good-bye. Yet even supposing Charlotte wasn’t pissed when Ash Þ nally owned up to being a woman, and even if she was both a lesbian and willing to be seduced by someone she barely knew, Ash was strangely uneasy about the idea of a one-night stand with her.

• 76 •

MORE THAN PARADISE

So what was the point in being here? What did she think was going to happen? She already knew they would never have a relationship.

Apart from the small matter that they lived in two different countries and probably had nothing in common, Ash had chosen a life that could only be complicated by the existence of loved ones. She did business with ugly people who used ugly methods to get what they wanted, and one thing she would never give them was an emotional lever. She had to be able to say no, or hold out for her price, without placing someone she cared about at risk. It was that simple.

No one over here knew her sister existed. Ash had made sure to circulate a ß awed newspaper report from her past in which Emma was reported bludgeoned to death along with their mother. The fact that her father was serving a life sentence was, however, widely known among her business associates, as was the fact that Ash wouldn’t lose any sleep if someone shanked him. She hadn’t stayed in touch with friends from her past and avoided making new ones when she moved here. She knew Tubby had Þ gured out she was queer, but he was the kind of guy who got worked up about “faggots” but thought lesbianism was hot. They never talked about it.

By tomorrow he would know Ash had rescued a woman from local thugs and then had dinner with her. He had sources all over town and a couple of his hirelings had entered the bar just as Ash did. There was bound to be someone at the hotel who would pass on the information if she slept with Charlotte. Then they could never be seen together again.

She paced resolutely for a few more seconds, then dialed. “Tubby.

You got something for me?”

“Yeah. A new customer. So don’t piss me off with any more of that shit about needing time out and business back home.”

“You have my complete attention and I’m ready to get back to work.” If nothing else, she needed the distraction while she got everything arranged so she could leave PNG for a long period.

“Security detail,” he said. “Morons going native. The usual caper.”

“Tourists looking for thrills?”

“Even dumber. Scientists.”

Another geological research team surveying for new mining sites, Ash assumed. “Who’s the customer?”

“It’s not important.”

• 77 •

JENNIFER FULTON

Ash groaned inwardly. Since the Sandline scandal, Tubby had become the biggest private-security middleman in PNG, providing operational support for the likes of Rio Tinto and Freeport-McMoRan.

He didn’t need any more mining clients, but he couldn’t resist helping out competing interests for the right price. It created bad feelings, but the local chopper pilot shortage meant the big boys didn’t have a whole lot of leverage. They were all deeply paranoid, all competing for the government’s favor, and all trying to spy on one another. Tubby made a pile of money serving many masters and having loyalty to none.

“How much?”

Tubby sucked his lips. Ash would recognize that sound in her sleep. “Your end is Þ fty.”

“Fifty large? Just for ß ying them?”

“Fuck, no. You’ll be setting up their campsite. Running the close-protection team. Meeting them at pick-up points. The whole nine yards.”

It still sounded like a cakewalk. “How many on the NGD team?”

“Four.”

The standard team for a high-risk Iraqi gig was eight, so four seemed heavy duty for a few guys picking up rock samples. On the other hand, Tubby took advantage if he thought he could. He’d probably sold this new customer on a high-priced package, scaring executives with espionage horror stories. Mining companies still shuddered over the Bougainville Þ asco. It had been a huge embarrassment to have one of their own caught hand in glove with a corrupt government, funding a private army to attack the entire population of an island. All because the Bougainvilleans had dared to shut down the mining that was destroying their environment and poisoning their children.

Tubby had discovered he only had to mention that weeping public-relations scab and his clients opened their checkbooks. They wanted to do business discreetly and with as little collateral damage as possible.

If a problem happened, they liked everything cleaned up ASAP so they could disclaim all knowledge. Sweetheart close-protection assignments like the one Ash was hearing about did not pay Þ fty thousand bucks unless there was a serious ß y in the ointment.

“I’m in,” she said. “What’s the catch?”

“We can discuss that. Come by after you’re done entertaining the broad.”

Ash’s pulse jumped. “News travels fast.”

• 78 •

MORE THAN PARADISE

“Who is she?” More lip sucking.

“No one you know. Call it a favor to a friend. I’m baby-sitting till she hightails it back to her nice life.”

Tubby wheezed, his version of laughter. “Hey, if she’s stacked and lonely, you know where to Þ nd me.”

Ash ignored the remark and kept her tone even. “I’ll see you later, Tubby. And chain those damn dogs up before I get there. Okay?”

“They’re just being friendly.”

“Yeah, it’s not your throat they want to rip out.”

She hung up and carefully tapped out her cigar against the sole of her boot. There was plenty left to smoke, so the doorman would be able to sell it. She wrapped it in a twenty instead of the less desirable local currency and handed it to him.

“Anyone comes asking for me,” she said. “I’m in a card game.”

The doorman palmed the tip impassively. “They already asked, mister.”

“I had a feeling about that.” Ash swatted a mosquito and headed back inside the refrigerated sanctuary of the lobby.

She waited there for a few, chewing a breath mint and letting the cigar smell dissipate. She had only one evening to enjoy with Charlotte and they weren’t going to sleep together. Instead, she’d decided they were going to have fun the way people did in Port Moresby, drinking and dancing the night away at the Pongo. They could head over there after dinner and Charlotte would get the chance to check out the PNG

version of a nightclub. She’d have a blast, talk to some locals, and end up with a few stories to tell her girlfriends back home. Then Ash would walk her back to her door and say good night. No drama. No regrets.

She was relieved. And the plan also meant she wouldn’t have to set Charlotte straight about the gender issue. They weren’t going to sleep together, so it didn’t matter what she believed. If the right moment presented itself, Ash would tell her the truth. If it didn’t, so what? No harm done.

• 79 •

• 80 •

MORE THAN PARADISE

I don’t normally do this kind of thing.” Charlotte left a shoe behind as she lurched into her room. A hand caught her arm, steadying her.

Ash asked, “What kind of thing?”

“Get really drunk and go dancing.” She allowed Ash to guide her toward the bed, then ß opped onto the pillows, her head swimming.

“Thanks for helping me up here.”

Ash scooped up the discarded shoe and removed the other one from Charlotte’s foot. “Are you okay?”

“You mean other than setting myself up for a splitting headache tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll tell housekeeping to send you up some aspirin.”

“You know something.” Charlotte wanted to sit up straight and speak clearly, but she stayed where she was and slurred like a lush,

“You’re a real gentleman.”

Ash gave her an odd look. “Just on that…there’s something I’ve been meaning to say.”

“What?”

Charlotte collected her wits. Was this the moment she’d hoped to avoid, when she’d have to explain her sexual orientation to a man hoping for more than a farewell kiss on the cheek? Things had been going so nicely, she’d started to think it wasn’t going to happen. At some point during their after-dinner partying in the Pongo Tavern, she’d decided for certain that Ash was gay. It was the only plausible reason he hadn’t hit on her. And it would also explain the odd mix of feelings she had around him. She felt safe and unself-conscious, like she could

• 81 •

JENNIFER FULTON

just be herself. She never felt that way with any of the perfectly nice lesbians she dated.

Then there was that odd feeling of connection. If she hadn’t understood what it was about, all kinds of warning bells would have been ringing. But she and Ash shared the bond of strangers who’d colluded in a dangerous experience, and the ß ickers of attraction she kept noticing obviously stemmed from that bond. Also, in a purely cerebral sense, she could appreciate Ash’s looks. Scrubbed up, with his scruffy charm ditched in favor of a distinctly urban sophistication, he seemed neither masculine nor feminine; in fact, she’d barely recognized him when she entered the bar earlier that evening.

The wavy hair she’d thought was dull mouse was actually sun-streaked dark corn blond. His face was not as creased as she’d thought, probably because it was now clean. But the same assessing cobalt eyes stared out from beneath a wave that drooped across his forehead and the same straight but sensuous mouth made him seem very serious until he smiled. The smile was roguish and infectious, ß ashing teeth that seemed extra white against his tan complexion. He looked like a tough guy with an artistic side. The artistic side had obviously chosen the clothes he was wearing tonight.

Most of the men dancing at the Pongo wore Hawaiian shirts and long, baggy shorts. Ash stuck out as the one who could Þ t in strolling down any street in Milan. Even when he took off his Þ ne dark weave jacket, he still looked like Mr. GQ in black pants and a charcoal shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Yes, she concluded, he had to be gay. The alternative, one of those “metrosexual” males, would never choose to live in a place like PNG.

“I should have Þ lled you in sooner.” Ash dropped the jacket she was carrying onto an armchair and extracted a bottle of Evian from the minibar. “But I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Charlotte chewed her lip. Apparently she had missed something he’d just said because she was too busy contemplating how attractive he was. So much for her rock-solid lesbian credentials. In case she was wrong about the gay thing, she took a stab at the information she hadn’t heard.

“Are you married?” With those looks, women would be breaking down his door if he were straight. “I mean, if you are there’s no reason to feel guilty. We haven’t
done
anything.”

• 82 •

MORE THAN PARADISE

“I’m not married.” She took the cap off the Evian and said, “Here, drink some of this.”

“I knew it.” Charlotte reached for the bottle but it slid from her hand, spraying water in all directions.

Ash found a towel to put on the ß oor, then got another bottle and passed it to her.

“You’re gay, aren’t you?” Charlotte announced. “It’s okay to tell me. I’m not homophobic. Drunk, yes. But deÞ nitely not a homophobe.”

Ash waited till she’d Þ nished rambling, then said, “Yes, I’m gay.”

“I guessed that! Even though you’re all tough, I could tell.”

Ash blinked. “I don’t think you understand.”

Charlotte didn’t blurt out,
Oh, my God. You’re transsexual?
How did one tactfully inquire? “Are you…um…”

Ash’s wry expression spoke volumes. “Charlotte, I’m a woman, not a gay man.”

“A woman?” The cogs of her mind slowly ground to a conclusion.