Destination Romance Page 6

  Spotting him with the Brazilians, she threaded her way through the crowd and tried to get his attention. He had another drink in his hand. How many had he had during the evening? Too many to drive? Wariness crept into her.

  Smiling genially at the guests, she touched Michael on his arm. 'Don't you think we should be going?' she said softly, trying to convey her message with her eyes.

  'It's early yet. Have you met Senor Fresco? He’s visited Key West and we were discussing the best seafood restaurant on the island.'

  His arm came to rest on her shoulders, his fingers slowly caressing her neck. Katie tried to follow the discussion with Senor Fresco, but was too aware of Michael's hand on her skin, the fluttering of her heart at his touch, the quivering felt deep inside at the slow fondling of his fingers. She could concentrate on nothing beside Michael, sheltering her as she stood in the protection of his arm, his fingers flooding her body with desire and yearning. She could only stare at the others in their group as the conversation swirled about her. Michael consumed her.

  At long last the evening drew to a close. Katie's face felt tired from smiling so much. She bid the last guest goodnight and glanced at her watch, horrified to see it was after two. They couldn't get home before dawn. She stormed her way across the room to Michael. Anger at the situation, anger at her reaction to him flooded through her; she was ready to explode.

  'Michael, are you planning to drive us home now?'

  He looked at her and then his watch. 'It's late, Katherine, I'm tired. We can get a nap here before starting back.'

  'I don't want to stay here; I want to go back now.'

  'Be reasonable; it's almost three o'clock in the morning. I've been up all day and you know that drive is monotonous. I couldn't stay awake. It's too dangerous.'

  'So we just get a room here, I suppose?' Her voice wobbled slightly. She was furious at herself for being talked into coming. She should have guessed the dinner would last far longer than a couple of hours. Now she was stuck in Miami until Michael decided to drive them back.

  'I—uh—did book a room for us,' he said quietly, taking her arm in his firm grasp.

  'One room?' She didn't know whether to throw a fit or not. What was he doing?

  ‘It was all they had available on such short notice.”

  He escorted her to the elevator. When it arrived, Michael pressed the number for their floor. Another couple stepped in, pressed for the floor above them. Silence reigned in the small car as it rose quietly to the floors indicated. The doors opened and Michael gently propelled Katie out to the hall.

  'Did you plan this?' she asked in a tight voice as they walked to the room Michael had reserved.

  'I thought we might be late, if that's what you mean.' He opened the door, only releasing her arm once they were inside with the door shut behind them.

  'I'm not staying the night with you.' She stalked over to the window; it overlooked the Atlantic Ocean, only a dark expanse at night. In the morning the view would be lovely.

  She turned back to look at him and was startled to see a small overnight case on the stand near the bed.

  'You did plan this. You even brought a suitcase. I'm not staying.' She stomped over to the door, but Michael hadn't moved. He gripped her shoulders with his hard hands.

  'Katherine, stop right now and listen to me. I am not planning a seduction scene. I'm tired and want to sleep for a few hours before driving that long causeway back to Key West. I brought a change of clothes. That's all.'

  He shook her slightly and let her go, his hands slowly releasing her.

  'It's not all. Michael, I have a job to get to. I have to be at work at seven. If you sleep for a while, it’ll be long after seven getting back, and I'll still be in the clothes I left in last night. I can't believe you're doing this to me. Are you trying to get me fired? To ruin my reputation in Key West? Have you no consideration?'

  'You wouldn't have to worry about a job or your reputation if you'd give up this silly idea and come back home.' His voice was hard.

  'I won't give up the idea and I won't be coerced into it by your shabby tactics,' she retorted.

  He rubbed his eyes with one hand, moving to stand by the window. He gazed out for a long time, then sighed gently and turned to face her.

  'I apologize, Katherine; I hadn't thought about it from your point of view. Of course I don't want to coerce you into anything, or make things difficult for you. I'll get us back to Key West before you're due to start work.'

  She stared at him in surprise. She had not expected him to see her side of it, or apologize. But it was the first time she could remember when she'd stood up for herself. Maybe she should have done it before.

  Michael turned to look at her. 'Get some sleep. I'll arrange a charter flight to Key West to get us there before you start work.'

  He left the room, leaving Katie standing in the middle, surprised at the turn of events.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  They arrived back in Key West with enough time for Katie to shower and change. She sent the silk dress to the cleaners with instructions to have it delivered to Michael when it was ready. She’d spoken very little to him on the flight back to Key West, only wishing to end their trip and return to her normal pursuits.

  When she changed into her uniform for her shift, she approached her friend Debbie.

  'Would you change floors with me?' Katie asked. 'The man in 1121 has asked me out a couple of times and it's a little awkward now.' It sounded weak to her.

  But Debbie smiled and nodded. 'Sure, no problem. I'd feel funny, too, cleaning someone's room that I knew. Just let me know when you want to switch back.'

  With Debbie taking her floor, Katie had no worries about running into Michael during her shift. She breezed through her work, contemplating the early evening she was going to have to make up for being up so late the night before. She refused to let herself think about the dinner, or the ride home on the small plane. The sooner Michael left, the better she'd be.

  Katie had cleaned all her rooms and was ready to change from her uniform when Mrs. Dowling, the head of housekeeping, popped her head in the locker-room.

  'There you are, Katie; would you take some towels up to room 1121? The guest there said he'd like some more. Isn't that one of your rooms?'

  Katie nodded, not wanting to tell her boss why she and Debbie had switched. Gathering a stack of towels, she headed quickly for the service elevator.

  Knocking on the door, she waited. What did he want now?

  The door opened and he smiled at her. For a second Katie's heart stopped, then sped up. She stared back at him for endless minutes, forgetting where she was, why she'd come.

  'The towels—thanks.' He drew her into the room. 'Why didn't you clean the room today?' he asked.

  She turned and placed the towels on the counter in the bathroom, preparing to leave. But he blocked the door.

  'We—um—rotate rooms. It's Debbie who has this floor now,' she prevaricated.

  'I'm sorry about last night, Katherine. Thank you for going with me, and helping me out. I think we'll get the deal.'

  'I'm glad for you, Michael. If you'd let me out, I'd like to go home. I'm tired and my shift is over now.'

  'Have dinner with me?'

  'No.' She tried to reach the door, but he stood firmly in the way.

  'Tomorrow night, then. The quiet restaurant for just the two of us, for our talk. You said yes on the beach.'

  She stared at him. She didn't want to see him again. She was tired of the constant need to be on her guard, to fight her feelings and the attraction he held for her. She'd made up her mind months ago that their marriage was over. They should have had their talk on the long ride to Miami.

  'Not in Miami.' She would go out with him one last time and make him understand they were finished.

  'Fine; tomorrow night at seven o'clock. We’ll try that seafood restaurant Senor Fresco recommended.'

  Katie worried all the next day about dinner, with mixed emo
tions, looking forward to it on one hand, yet worried she was making a mistake on the other. She wanted to end her relationship with Michael, and didn't see how dining together worked towards that end. He said he wanted to talk with her, but couldn't he have talked on the long drive to Miami? Her one attempt to broach the subject had resulted in a quick change of topic.

  Katie dressed with extra care that evening. It could be her last dinner with Michael. She thought back to the many meals they had shared with friends or businessmen. It was hard to remember when just the two of them had eaten casually–made do. Even if they'd not had a party, the meals they'd shared had been formal, with Frances serving and clearing. The conversation had been superficial and meaningless.

  There was nothing left to say, why prolong the situation?

  She brushed her hair until it shone, the curls lightened by the sun. Her tan was deep, her eyes brown and sparkling. She viewed herself in the mirror, his comments from the picnic springing to mind.

  She jerked away from the mirror. She wasn’t out to entice the man. She grabbed her sweater in case it was cool inside the restaurant. She didn't need air- conditioning if her windows were open, but the public buildings ran it for the tourists.

  Promptly at seven she rapped on his door.

  He opened it, immaculately dressed in a crisp white shirt, lightweight navy suit and bold red tie. For a second Katie regretted leaving the pretty dresses in Boston, and returning the silk dress.

  She lifted her chin. So her dress was casual—it suited her new lifestyle. Anyway, she was not out to impress anyone. Only to have dinner, have their talk, say goodbye and get on with life.

  'I assume we can walk?' Michael said as he joined her in the hall. 'Everything seems close together here.'

  'We either walk or ride bikes,' she murmured. 'No real need for cars.' But she knew Debbie's friend Rick would disagree—his taxi service depended on tourists riding instead of walking.

  Michael was silent as they walked the dozen blocks to the Fresh Catch, mingling with others on their way to dinner. The streets were filled with happy tourists enjoying the pleasures of the island.

  Katie had never eaten there, but she recognized the type immediately upon entering. The maitre d' was suave, seating them quickly in a small alcove. The linen was starched, snowy white, the place setting of elegant heavy silver. The lighting was dim, with scented candles on every table. It was expensive, but the food and service would be worth it.

  'Quite a change from Marco's, where we had pizza,' she said, smiling politely at Michael as they were seated.

  'And which do you prefer, Katherine?' he asked, his eyes boring into her as he awaited her response. Her own eyes flickered around the room before meeting his.

  'This is nice, Michael, but I love Marco's. I'm afraid it's very plebeian of me, but I find I like the more common things—fast-food places, inexpensive shops and activities. Maybe it's the novelty. I've found some friends and am happy learning what I like to do, the different kinds of people I like to be around and the accomplishments I have.'

  'So different from our life in Boston?'

  'Yes.' Deliberately so.

  She picked up the menu and perused it, trying to ignore his stare. She felt as if he were touching her, so strong was the pull. The words blurred before her eyes, meaningless. There was only Michael, sitting across from her, gazing at her lowered head.

  His hand reached across and took the menu from her unresisting fingers.

  'Want shrimp?' he asked gently.

  She looked up, about to nod and let him order for her as she had every time before, when she remembered.

  'No, thanks. I'll order my own dinner when the waiter comes.' She bravely met his eyes and remembered her last evening in Boston. She'd stood up to him then, and he'd ignored her. Refused to take her seriously. She'd had to walk out to prove her point. What would he do tonight?

  'Liberated,' he murmured and turned to look at his menu.

  Katie ordered her own meal—swordfish, while Michael ordered shrimp. They had wine while they waited.

  'Now, do you want to talk, Michael?' she asked, as the silence stretched out too long.

  'I don't want this divorce, Katherine. I want you to come back to Boston. Or we can take that cruise I spoke of—you tell me what you want. But let's try to work things out.'

  'I don't want to work anything out. I like what I'm doing now,' she said gently.

  'You don't miss me at all?'

  She looked up at the tone in his voice. His eyes were on his wine; his jaw clenched tightly, his knuckles white as he gripped the glass stem. His face was impassive. Did he care either way? Or was he only angry because he could not dictate the outcome?

  He was so good-looking that her heart almost stopped. His face was leaner now, but strong and assertive. The bronze he'd acquired in the last couple of days only added to his good looks. To her eye he looked alert and dangerous. He hadn't made a fortune in a tough business like construction by being a pushover. He had an air of ruthlessness about him, and it showed in the way he ran his life.

  But for a moment, a second, Katie thought she heard hurt in his tone. She sighed and shook her head.

  'Michael, you and I were wed, but we didn't have a marriage. Marriage is a sharing of two lives. We lived side by side in a great house, meeting for meals. You directed everything, orchestrated all our activities. And they were all aimed at advancing Donovan Construction. But you didn't share your life with me, nor share mine. There's very little to miss.'

  He looked up at her, his eyes dark, impassive, and, coolly lifting one eyebrow, he watched her in the muted light.

  'And what are you looking for from life, Katherine? Some man who has nothing, but will devote his every moment to you? You'd get tired of that fast.'

  She thought briefly of Rick and Debbie. They had little money, but a lot of love and happy times together. They liked their life, didn't wish for it to be any different.

  'I would hope I wouldn't have money problems, but if my wants are modest I shouldn't. I manage now on my own salary, and it certainly isn't much. There's more to life than buying things, or going on expensive trips. You enjoyed the picnic on the beach, didn't you?'

  He nodded.

  'It cost virtually nothing.'

  The salad arrived and for a few moments talk was suspended.

  'Are you planning to remarry?' Michael asked, his voice tight, his eyes on his food.

  'I don't know. If I meet the right man,' she said. 'I'd like to have some kids.'

  He looked up, startled. 'I never knew that.'

  'You never asked,' she said simply, meeting his eyes.

  He was silent, brooding. 'I don't like the idea of anyone else touching you.'

  Katie's lips tightened. He was being possessive, as if she were a crystal vase that no one should touch. She was her own person, no longer his concern, and he needed to know that.

  'It's no longer your business, Michael. I'll let whomever I wish touch me.' Her eyes flashed brown fire as she challenged him.

  His were dark, almost black in his face.

  'We'll just see about that. Damn it, Katherine, I want you home.'

  'I am home, and, the sooner you accept that, the better off we'll both be,' she hissed back, conscious of the other diners, of some of the looks being cast their way. She didn't want to make a scene. She'd leave first.

  Michael glanced around, then took a deep breath.

  'Tell me about living here,' he said, his voice neutral, his anger of a moment ago gone, or at least leashed so that she didn't hear it.

  Slowly at first, watching to see if he was bored, then with more enthusiasm, Katie described her experiences since arriving at the small island—finding a job, furnishing her apartment. She continued after the entree was served.

  'I love the climate. It's so different; I can almost touch the air—it's soft and always scented with the sea, unless it's scented with some of the flowers that grow around here, like the frangipani
and jasmine. Quite different from the smoggy, damp smell we sometimes got in Boston.'

  'So you'd forsake New England for the south.'

  'Everything moves at a slower pace here, people seem to care more about each other, or maybe it's the people themselves. I didn't meet any like that in Boston. People I knew there were constantly trying to prove how much money they had, or how much influence they carried. No one seemed to care about anyone else.'

  'Several of your committee members have asked after you since you've been gone,' Michael murmured.

  'Me, or Michael Donovan's wife?' She glared at him. 'When I'm finished work here, I do whatever I wish. I'm not always working, as you are, Michael. I've discovered snorkeling, diving, and volleyball. I like going to the movies, or just hanging out with my friends.'

  Unruffled, he filled her wine glass again, and encouraged her to continue telling him about Key West. He asked her questions, seemed interested in everything she had to say.

  When Michael paid the bill, Katie watched him curiously. He was relaxed, at ease in surroundings familiar to him, to them both. He was at home in the expensive restaurant as he had been at the pizza place. Had he always had the ability to fit into wherever he was? She always pictured him at work in the high-rise glass and concrete building that dominated downtown Boston; and at the expensive nightclubs and restaurants they had frequented in the name of work. Yet she knew he visited the construction sites, talked to the men working the jobs. Had he talked to them as equals?

  When he helped her from her chair, she swayed slightly.

  'Oops, too much wine,' she said, standing still for a moment to get her equilibrium back.

  He drew her hand through the crook of his arm and let his hand remain on hers. It was hard, warm, callused, and caused the most peculiar sensations to race down her skin. She looked up at him with her eyes wide, a question clearly within them.

  'Come back to my room with me and we'll finish our discussion,' he said as they walked from the restaurant.