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BOOK 4
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Being Yours BOOK 4
'Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss.' Tim bowed his fair head over his scrawled page in good-natured resignation. He had the highest total of wasted lesson time in the class. That still left him well short of the thirty minutes which would earn him a lunch-time detention, but the threat kept him working. The rest of the class, having briefly enjoyed his defeat, settled back to their find-the-noun exercises.'How d'you spell "saddle", Miss?' asked serious Jenny.That meant she had finished her exercises and started her story. Amy sighed at the thought of having to read yet another piece about a horse, wrote the word on the blackboard, and turned to survey the rows of virtuously bowed heads. Now that she had them writing she mustn't hover and distract them. On the other hand they might need her help any time, so she couldn't begin any work of her own.Half past three, she noted, and stifled a yawn. This was another thing that didn't happen in drama lessons, these spells when you couldn't do anythin
Being Yours BOOK 4
'Are you all right?' The man had followed her through the open gate.Amy tried to scramble to her feet. 'I'm fine.'But she wasn't. A sharper pain stabbed one knee as she unfolded it, and she hadn't put any weight on it yet. She gasped, dropped back to half-sitting, and tried to calm herself with a long, ragged breath.'Let's see if I can help you stand.' He bent to her with hands outstretched.'I'll manage.' She levered herself up with a huge effort. The chill concrete pressed her bruised hands and a fiery line of pain shot through her knee as, with the iron gate post cold beneath her clutching fingers, she stood lopsidedly upright. Casting round forsupport she found herself steadied by a leather-clad arm which had somehow got itself round her, its hand supporting her elbow.Have you got your keys?''Of course I've . . .''Right, then let's get you indoors.'As she hobbled through the darkness, his arm at her back urging her forward, she wondered how on earth she had got into this.
Being Yours BOOK 4
Perhaps she should have asked him to take the conker as well, and the stocking, and the drawing of an eye. Oh, how she longed to be done with them and forget them. But no, the Clarks said she must keep them; that though they weren't in themselves criminal evidence, they might help later, if other, worse things should happen.Amy shivered and felt queasy at the thought. Paul had wanted to take out Dave's chicken bones as well, but she had said no, some dog might eat them and hurt itself, or else the seagulls would throw them messily about. She wished now that she had let them go anyway; she could smell their greasiness from here.Ah, that was better. Harold had poured delicious-smelling coffee from his thermos.'I could have made you some fresh,' Amy felt bound to protest.'This is as good as fresh.' Harold bent to his bag again, and came up with a tiny bottle half-full of milk. 'My mum buys it special. Besides,' he added, uncapping the little milk bottle and adding its contents to his
Being Yours BOOK 4
'There.' He was back in the doorway, waving what she presumed was her own heavy black torch. 'I took this from the kitchen window sill. D'you want me to put it back there?'Amy nodded. 'I . . . I keep it there . . .' Oh dear, if only her voice would settle down and sound normal '. . . for emergencies.''How sensible . . .''Don't condescend to me!'There, that was more like it; she had managed to speak with real fire at last. And she had impressed him, she could tell by the way he blinked. For a second he stared at her, his placid brows drawn together in a small frown. Then he spoke, softer than ever.'I wasn't condescending, honest. Only admiring your common sense. Now,' he went on before she could answer, 'do you trust me enough to sit yourself down and give that knee a chance?'Amy stayed on her feet, holding on to her new hardness. 'Why did the lights go out?'He shrugged. 'It happened when I plugged in the kettle.''But Dave checked that. . . Oh.' Almost she wanted to laugh, mayb
Being Yours BOOK 4
'You see.' In the howl-filled dimness outside the front door, Paul had to shout close to Amy's ear. 'It's only a dog.''Are you sure?' She peered down the garden, making what she could of the shadow by the gate. 'It looks more like a wolf.'The creature had quieted, she supposed at the sound of their voices. Its blackness merged with the rustling, twig-fretted dark so that she could see little of its size or shape, but the odd glimmer here and there showed it sitting on its haunches, its great wolf-head silhouetted against the pallor of the inn car park and weirdly framed by the wrought-iron patterns of the gate. It must know they were there; it seemed to be turning towards them.'I suppose,' Amy observed from her knowledge of the Moor Fell dogs, 'it sees in the dark far better than we do.''I should think so.' Paul didn't sound at all disturbed at the idea.'So it can see us better than we can see it.''Smell us, too, of course, given what a keen sense of smell dogs . . .''I know ab
Being Yours BOOK 4
'All in good time.' He took up the plastic bowl from the hearth. 'Before I do anything else, I'm going to fetch some clean water, and wash that paw.''But you'll get chilled . . .'No use, he had already disappeared to the kitchen. Amy lifted her foot to rest on the cushioned raffia stool, sighed, and closed her eyes. When she opened them she found Jim standing before her, his round brown eyes gazing expectantly up into hers.What a huge, strongly-built creature he was, to be sure. Her little room had shrunk about him; he stood almost as high as her dining table and made it seem spindly in comparison. Now that she could see him in the light, she realized that she had been deceived by that first sight of his silhouetted head with the stand-ing-up, pointed ears; in truth he hardly looked alsatian at all. For one thing his head was too broad and rounded between the ears; for another his hair was far too long and too fine. It was beautiful, that hair, hanging like dark-gold silk from his
Being Yours BOOK 4
Trust him? Amy glanced up at him with sudden suspicion. Was he after all just like the others, a man on the make? On top of her other worries she found herself struggling with the disappointment of it.He read her uneasy thoughts. 'That's why I said if you'll trust me,' he went on. 'If you will, and if you'll put up with me, you'd feel happier having someone here with you.''But didn't you say,' she began slowly, 'that I was to stop letting . . .' she hesitated, still reluctant to name Robert '. . . letting all this bother me?'He nodded. 'If you have company you'll find that easier. And I expect the shop'U be all right for one night . . .''The shop? Oh yes, of course, you're Paul Clark Antiques.' She sniffed at the ghosts of linseed oil which still floated about that damp pullover, reminded how little she knew of this man ... 'So you have a shop?''Isn't that the normal way of selling things?'Amy stared at him, stung by his abrupt, ironic comment. 'You might have been an auctioneer
Being Yours BOOK 4
'Thanks, but I prefer toast and marmalade. Or just bread,' Paul added, 'if toast is any trouble.''It's what I always have,' she said, and departed to fetch it.The kitchen felt cold after the heated living room. So much the better; it always woke her up coming in here in the morning. In the neon-lit brightness she took the favourite leaf-patterned tray Gareth had given her last Christmas and set about loading it. Two knives, two teaspoons, two green Denby plates; she ticked them off in her mind as she put them on the tray, then turned to the row of mugs which hung under the wall-cupboard.I'll have the Japanese flowerbell this morning, she decided, enjoying the choice, and he can have - he can have this one. She unhooked her favourite, eggshell-fine mug with the bands of mauve, dove-grey and mandarin-orange. She liked it so much she hardly dared use it, but today was special.Idiot, she said to herself as she lowered the mug gently to the tray, what on earth's got into you? He's anot
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Being Yours BOOK 9
Lohano Tiki drove his bright yellow Ferrari up the long gravel incline and parked in front of the huge pillared portico that was the entrance to the Black Orchid Palace.He climbed out of the car, and quickly ducked down to check his hair in the wing-mirror.Good. Nicely wind-ruffled and carefree.A handsome, square-jawed face looked back at him, tanned a deeper colour by the desert sun.By the Nevadan desert sun, to be exact.His shirt was dazzling white and casually opened at the throat to reveal a strong dark column of neck and the first few wisps of dark chest hair.His jacket was white linen, faultlessly tailored, his slacks a dark green. His loafers came from Rome. His only piece of jewellery was a modest, leather-strapped watch from Switzerland.He was dressing to impress Koki’Hana as much as his rebellious and strong-willed granddaughter.He sprang lithely up the four rounded steps, that were spread out like a fan and led to the huge, impressive, carved oak doors of the palace
Being Yours BOOK 9
George Dixon watched the large crocodile of people emerge from the intermediary house by the east wall.As the owner of fifteen per cent of the Orchid House, he’d been asked to attend the full day’s festivities, of course, but he’d only just decided to put in an appearance.It was three-fifteen p.m.The extra waiters and waitresses hired for the lunch had been circulating in the grounds all afternoon, laden with trays of champagne, fruit juice and little nibbles. He hijacked a waiter and grabbed a glass of cold Moet et Chandon and a few smoked salmon pastries that melted in the mouth.He was lounging against the fountain that was the centre-piece of the outer grounds. Round, made of stone, and full of fish and water-lilies, it shot a fountain of water nearly thirty feet into the air.It was cooler there.George didn’t much like the heat. He was a small but very fat man, with a round belly and short, stocky legs. He could only imagine what the heat must be like inside the hot-houses.G
Being Yours BOOK 9
King Koki’Hana reached the end of the welcoming line, and finally shook hands with the last person to be presented - a tall, thin Portuguese man, whom Electra had introduced as their head groundsman. It was his job to keep the gardens outside the glasshouses looking good.Koki’Hana quite liked meeting the people who made businesses tick. Oahu, like all the islands, was a large ethnic mix of people - Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Filipino, Polynesians, Portuguese and American. Here at the Orchid House, he was pleased to see that Electra Stapleton’s only criterion for picking her staff was their having the right qualifications for the job. He operated a similar policy where his own business affairs were concerned.‘Well, Alii Koki’Hana, I’m sure you can see now why the Orchid House is such a success,’ Electra said quietly. ‘My staff are simply the best in the world.’ She said with it quiet pride but total sincerity.King Koki’Hana nodded. ‘So I see. And you are rapidly expanding, I underst
Being Yours BOOK 9
Bevis expertly aligned the small light aircraft with the portable runway lights Electra had lit ten minutes ago, and lightly touched down. He taxied neatly to the end of the runway, turned, and then parked the plane near a stand of hua trees, where it was partially hidden.He went through his checklist, making sure all the systems were shut down, then locked the cockpit, grabbed his overnight bag, and jumped lithely to the ground.At thirty-eight, he looked a good ten years younger, and still retained the well-built but fat-free body that would be the envy of many men his age. His short hair was still as dark as a raven’s wing, with not a hint of grey at the temples.He gathered up the landing lights, turning them off as he went, and stowed them away in their small wooden shed, hidden in the small copse of trees, padlocking the door after him.During the short walk to Electra’s luxurious bungalow, ‘Makai Hale’, he ran a tired hand through his hair. It was good to have a break from the
Being Yours BOOK 9
Electra stroked the damp copper hair off his forehead and looked around desperately. There was only the diminishing storm, darkness and fear. She couldn’t move him - she wasn’t strong enough to get him into her car. Besides., she didn’t know if she should move him, and wished she knew more basic First Aid.She felt as if she’d been cradling the stranger in her arms forever, but it had actually been less than five minutes since the lightning strike.The rain had been gradually dwindling, and now had stopped altogether, but she could still hear the distant rumble of thunder, away to the east, as the storm headed out to sea.Suddenly another sound began to impinge on her mind, and she looked up hopefully as a small set of lights dipped and disappeared in the distance.A car! At last!Coming from the same direction as she had been. Somewhat belatedly, she realized her own car was still blocking the road, and she carefully lowered the stranger’s head to the ground and got to her feet.Her
Being Yours BOOK 9
Hawaii, or the Big Island as it was known to the locals, played host to fewer tourists than its sister island Oahu, but boasted similar moutainous lush greenery, great surfing and multi-cultural dining, all with the added bonus of spectacular black beaches, courtesy of the volcanoes.A mountainous land of plantations, myth and Polynesian mystique, it slumbered like a giant emerald in the vast blueness of the Pacific ocean.However, Hilo, its major city, was as big, busy and cosmopolitan as any city in the developed world.The Big Island, like all those in the chain, also had its fair share of hotels and tourist resorts, but, unlike Oahu, it still relied heavily on the more traditional sources of money, such as fruit plantations and coffee, to fill its coffers.Near the pretty village of Kailua, set well back in the coolness of the hills, away from the hustle and bustle of hotels and shops, lay the impressive and sprawling edifice of the Black Orchid Palace.No higher than two storeys,
Being Yours BOOK 9
Electra Stapleton turned the last page of the contract she was reading, and initialled it in the right-hand corner. She’d made a few important changes, and she made a mental note to herself to get one of her lawyers to draw up a revised draft.Not that Nationwide Flowers Inc. would complain. She’d given them all they wanted, but had cleverly slipped in a few little goodies that would be beneficial to the Orchid House too.For instance, ensuring that their chain of florists used one of the Orchid House’s flowered wrapping sheets whenever they sold one of their orchids. The free publicity that would generate would save her hundreds of thousands of dollars. And cost Nationwide Flowers not a penny.She was a bit worried about the shipment date, though; it was rather tight. She reached for her computer keyboard and punched up the details on the company’s regular transporters. Before she’d taken over, the Orchid House had had only one - a privately owned aeroplane company that had shipped a
Being Yours BOOK 9
Haldane Fox glanced up as the oddly melodious 4 ping 5 echoed around the cabin.‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We are now beginning our descent to Honolulu Airport. Please observe the “No Smoking” signs, and “Fasten Seat-belts” signs. Your cabin crew will be around to help anyone having difficulty with their belts. I trust you enjoyed your flight with us, and wish you all a pleasant stay on Oahu. Aloha'Haldane sighed wearily and reached for his seatbelt. It had been a long flight, from London to New York for a short stopover, then on to LA for yet another stopover before the long haul across the mighty Pacific Ocean to the fabled Hawaiian Islands.He yawned widely, trying to shrug off the fast-approaching affects of the dreaded jet-lag.A stewardess, the same one who’d been serving him throughout the flight across the pacific, lingered by the side of his seat.‘Everything alright, sir?’The soft voice made him spin his head and look up. The stewardess’s smile caught in her th
Being Yours BOOK 8
By the time they arrived at the hotel, the security gate had been forced open, and a fire engine and two police cars were in the parking area. Apart from the fact that the firemen had broken down the main door, to all other outward appearances the Alcaszar appeared to be untouched. It wasn’t enough to stop Matt from leaping from the car and running across to the main doors where a group of firemen was standing, though.By the time Alex joined them, however, he appeared to be calm. “It’s only damaged the courtyard,” he told her. “Apparently it started among the wood that was stacked there, probably caused by a careless cigarette butt. They say it’s probably been smoldering for hours.”From the tone of his voice Alex knew immediately that he didn’t believe it was accidental but that he wasn’t prepared to talk to the police about his suspicions. She glanced up at him. His eyes had darkened to the steely gray that she now knew from experience was a sign that he was very angry. She took hi
