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BOOK 4
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Being Yours BOOK 4
Suddenly she realized he was asking her a question. So he hadn't lost interest after all. He was asking where they went from here, which showed he thought they were going somewhere. I've got to get this right, she told herself desperately, and did her best to brush away the cobwebs of fatigue.'I . . . suppose I was sort of wondering that myself.''I could just take you to Stribble . . .''To Stribble?''It's where you live,' he reminded her with gentle sarcasm.'Yes.'Her new hope collapsed like a burst balloon. She had been wrong. He didn't want to talk about their future together, just about the simple, practical matter of where he should drive next. He wanted to know where he should take her before he put her down and left her, presumably forever.'That's right, please take me to Stribble,' she said, trying and failing to keep the leaden flatness from her voice. 'Thanks to you, I don't think I've anything more to fear from the Dawlishes.''Not from them, no.' He made no move to st
Being Yours BOOK 4
'Wha . . .' She lifted her heavy head above the exercise books and blinked, glad to be awake again. Gradually she managed to focus on the mug of dark amber liquid Paul had set before her on one of her green and gold placemats. He must have taken the mat from the table drawer right under her ear, that would explain the thunder noise.'Where's the milk?' she asked.'It helps better with shock if you have it without.'She turned to him with blurry indignation, the last of her nightmare fled. 'I'm not shocked.''Drink up,' he urged, quiet and steady as ever.'I never have tea without milk . . .' She stopped because she sounded so childishly crotchety, yet this was a serious objection. 'Without milk it'll be too hot. I won't be able to drink it for ages.''I cooled it.''How did you do that?''Added cold water.''You put cold water in my tea?There she went again, that childish whine. To cover her embarrassment she sipped the tea. Finding it surprisingly palatable and exactly the right tem
Being Yours BOOK 4
But then, she hadn't so much stayed as simply spent two nights in Paul's austere little spare room. She had left at eight each morning and returned at ten each night too tired to do more than drag herself to bed; so tired that tiredness seemed a way of life; so tired that events and ideas and imaginings ran together in her brain and would not be separated into their individual parts.If she worked at it she could dredge up a vague memory of her first arrival here. Paul had helped herout of his van and guided her across the narrow street, and the outside air must have brought her round a bit. She could remember the wet pavement, and the shuttered shopfront, and the question she had asked about the name on the fascia.'Why Gemini? Is it your birth sign?'She was fairly sure he'd said no, he just liked the sound of it, but after that it all went vague again. They must have gone through the side door and up the walled-in stairs to the little landing, but she couldn't remember. He must ha
Being Yours BOOK 4
'Thanks,' she repeated with more enthusiasm, and half-rose. 'The keys are in my school bag . . .''Don't move.' As usual he was on his feet long before her. 'I'll fetch it.'But her house keys weren't in her bag. Not in their own special front pocket, not loose in the main part of the bag, not in any of its other sections. After five minutes of ever more frantic searching, she had to admit that she must have lost them.It was the last straw. Tears of self-pity welled up, and she wanted nothing but to put her face in her hands and sob and choke and hiccup like a two-year-old. Jim must have sensed her distress; he emerged from under the table with a clatter of claws, laid his head on her lap, and looked up at her. She took a hasty gulp of her coffee, and stroked him.Then suddenly Paul was there too, kneeling at her other side, his arms round her and her chair together. 'Want to cry it out?'It felt so good to have him close again, so warm and safe, that she was almost tempted to accept
Being Yours BOOK 4
She didn't feel strong enough to ask the question direct, but she could try a roundabout route. 'What does your mother think of you running an antique shop?''It worries her, of course,' he admitted readily. 'She doesn't say so, but she fears I may take after my father.''And do you?''No.' The single word came out serene and unassertive, a simple statement of fact. 'I take after the Clarks, but not my father.''It must be a bit uncertain though?' she offered cautiously. 'As a way of earning a living?''I don't need to earn a living.' He smiled, with a certain edge of irony. 'My father left me three million dollars.''What?' Amy put down her cup, suddenly weak. 'Real money? In the bank?'Paul nodded. 'He financed movies. It seems that after a while, he got a reputation as somebody who could pick winners.''So in the end, his gambling paid off.' Amy sat back, taking it in. 'That means you're rich.''It certainly means I've got enough.' He regarded her over the gleaming tea things. 'Do
Being Yours BOOK 4
'You're surely not going to sit on that?' Amy asked. 'It can't be comfortable.''It is very comfortable.' Aminata spoke matter-of-factly, as if used to having to explain this preference. 'It is exactly what I like. Paul, 'e bring it from the shop specially for me.'So Paul kept an item of furniture here just for his beautiful assistant, friend, and. . . mistress? Amy had to crush down a wave of the purest, most painful jealousy.Aminata had returned to the unwanted armchair to drop her cloak over it. The complex garment beneath turned out to be three garments, a kaftan-like robe whose sea-green silk was shadow-striped with indigo and gold, a long skirt of the same material, and a scarlet silk shirt. The copious sleeves of the kaftan dropped in supple folds over the long scarlet sleeves of the shirt, and the whole effect was so brilliantly exotic that Amy found herself staring again.'You like?' Aminata stroked the kaftan complacently, making its shadow-striping ripple like water. 'Mam
Being Yours BOOK 4
'I see.' Amy nodded, spreading pate. 'So modern carvers try to make their work seem old.''After they've carved them out of bits of packing crates,' he confirmed, 'they stain them and drill worm-holes.''And they succeed? I mean, the things end up seeming old?'Paul nodded, his mouth full. 'Tourists and dealers buy them as antiques,' he explained when he had swallowed, 'take them back to Europe or America, and sell them for a huge profit.''Having bought them for peanuts?''Just about. And for those peanuts, all that marvellous talent -' he nodded down at the figure by Amy's plate - 'gets pinned down copying the past, instead of finding its own way.'Amy stared at him in admiration. What a wonderful way he had found to spend his father's money. Not only was he providing employment in a poor country - she was sure Mali must be poor - he was also helping craftsmen. No, she corrected herself, he was helping artists find the best way of using their talents.'So in Les Gemaux,' she began,
Being Yours BOOK 4
'You don't look old enough to be anybody's mother,' she blurted out before she could stop herself.'Nice of you to say so.' Betty, who had bent to greet Jim, straightened to accept the compliment. 'I sometimes feel a hundred. . .do come in out of the cold.' She stepped back through a glass inner door, adding over her shoulder as they followed, 'Marie's expecting you.'So she's called Marie then, Amy thought, and wondered why the name seemed vaguely familiar. Surely she had heard it before, quite recently?The outer lobby led into a big square hall, itself windowless but with doors leading off it to rooms bright-lit by the late-afternoon sun. A wide, handsome staircase rose to one side, and at the end of a short corridor another glass door showed through its frosted pane the outline of kitchen cupboards. Scents of coffee and baking drifted through the warm air.Paul commanded Jim to sit and the dog obeyed, though with a beseeching, walk-hungry stare. While Betty took their coats and hu
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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
