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BOOK 6
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Being Yours BOOK 6
Marsh’s blithe statement didn’t set too well with Jill, never mind how truthful it might be. ‘All I have to say to that is if you don’t turn aroimd and take me to my parents’ house. I’m registering a complaint with your supervisor. Then I’ll call a taxi from Dustin’s house to bring me back home, at which point I will send the bill to the Lassiter police department.’‘You’re kidding, right?’ The carefree smile slid off Marsh’s face.‘No, I’m not.’ Jill shook her head. ‘I’ll be very upset with you if you do this.’ She didn’t know if the threats she’d thrown out would worry the sheriff, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t to go to Lassiter.‘You’d better go back. Tommy,’ China said softly.‘Aw, hell,’ Marsh complained. He turned the truck around at the next break in the intersection.‘I appreciate the thought. Marsh, but there are some things you can’t make happen, even for your best friend. Or his mother.'Didn’t he know it. ‘I guess you’d say the word if you changed your mind. I’d be ha
Being Yours BOOK 6 EPILOGUE
Tiny pieces of popcorn lay scattered under the tree on Christmas Day. Joey had enjoyed stringing it, but then he wanted to eat it, so occasional tugs on the string had left little pieces of the stuff lying on the carpet. Jill smiled at the mess, glad to be here instead of in the pristine apartment Marsh had said lacked heart. There was plenty of heart here.Last night she and Dustin had performed their ‘Santa Claus’ duties, placing brightly-colored packages with fancy ribbons under the tree for Joey. His stocking bulged, especially the toe, where Jill had put an orange in the very bottom. She’d so enjoyed planning these surprises for the child; it was almost a miracle to her to be actually putting small toys and candy in his stocking. She had loved wrapping his presents.She heard the pattering of Joey’s pajamaed feet hurrying down the stairs. A smile automatically lifted her lips. ‘Merry Christmas, Joey!’ she called as he ran into the parlor.He ran to squeeze her with a big hug. ‘I
Being Yours BOOK 7
'Are we getting divorced?’Rachel Gold kept her gaze focused on the tarot cards spread across the mahogany table in the traditional Celtic pattern, and considered the woman’s frantic question. There had been rare times over the past years that Rachel had regretted her decision to become a tarot reader, but when faced with having to give an unwanted answer she wondered if there wasn’t an easier way to make a living.Passing her hand over the Death card without touching it, Rachel felt tendrils of energy vibrate against her fingers. She lifted her gaze from the picture of an armored skeleton mounted on horseback to study her long-time, and troubled, customer. Anxiety pooled in Sandra Roberts’ blue eyes, deepening the faint crow’s feet fanning out from their corners.Drawing hard on her filtered cigarette, Sandra blew a thin stream of smoke through her trembling lips. Her complexion paled, sinking to gray in a room bright with festive light. In an urgent whisper so the other guests would
Being Yours BOOK 7
Straightening slowly, trying to discern her response, and his, she pulled her hand back. Tingling energy passed through her fingers, like tiny aftershocks, spiraling upward through her veins. Clenching her hand into a fist, she pressed it into her lap.He held so still, his eyes hot and vibrant, that she wanted to squirm. She couldn’t tell if he was displeased that she’d touched him or if he’d experienced the same . . . whatever it had been. Her glimpse of his emotion ended as quickly as it had begun. His eyes turned cool, unreadable, allowing her to sense nothing but a cold, impenetrable wall, which puzzled her. While she couldn’t read people’s minds, their emotions were usually an open book to her. All she had to do was look.Studying him, she realized Jackson Dermont’s emotions were like the reflection in a mirror. The images were there; she could see them, but she couldn’t feel him, interpret his mood into something real and tangible. Or explicable.Then it dawned on her. Her inab
Being Yours BOOK 7
Beneath the laughter and whirl of conversation, the faint chime of a clock striking twelve echoed through the marbled halls. The muscles in Rachel’s back twisted with strain, but she ignored the ache, remaining poised as she finished Mrs Phillips’ reading. It would be at least another two hours before Rachel could leave the Donaldsons’ party. Two tedious hours of forcing serene smiles when all she wanted to do was escape to her own home where she could close off the unsettling vibrations dragging her down.She blinked her dry, stinging eyes against the thick cloud of cigarette smoke hovering above the sea of perfectly coiffed heads. The scents of cigars, perfume and food battled to dominate the air. She tried to focus on the cards, but they repeatedly made a mockery of her ability to interpret them. Little of what she dealt made sense, and what she did understand was too severe for her to relate without upsetting her customers.As she nodded her goodbye to Mrs Phillips, Rachel reminde
Being Yours BOOK 7
The Imperial Dragon’s eyes flashed, pooling blood-red in the dim light. Rachel ran her fingers over his verdant green scales and imagined his nostrils flaring in pleasure. His sculptured head was tilted back, his mouth parted as if he wanted to roar ... or purr. Gripped in his paw, the crystal ball refracted color and purpose, and the heart of the dragon’s soul. He was dark beauty and regal strength rolled into one.He was perfection.And he was all hers . . . that was, until someone bought him.Having tagged the mythical beast, Rachel entered his eighteenth-century history, along with his extravagant sales price, into the computer. Unable to help herself, she ran her fingers over the cool surface of his gypsum stone body again, hoping that if he truly possessed supernatural powers, some of it would rub off on her. For the past week, ever since the Donaldsons’ party, she’d been off-center, unable to focus on and interpret other people’s actions. Specifically those involving Jackson .
Being Yours BOOK 7
‘Rachel?’ he asked from directly behind her.‘Yes, Mr Dermont?’‘Jackson.’She ignored his correction.‘Do I make you nervous?’She threw what she hoped was an exasperated look over her shoulder. Instead of lying again, shepoured her attention on to the sparkling glass, rubbing so hard that the entire case vibrated. ‘Did you come here to buy something, or simply to distract me from my work?’‘Hmmm.’Feeling his eyes roam down her back, she polished harder until her shoulder muscles began to bunch.‘Now that you mention it, my sister’s birthday is in a couple of weeks.’Thankful for the shift in subject-matter, Rachel faced him and cleared her throat. ‘What is she like?’He tucked a loose strand of Rachel’s hair behind her ear. The act had been so casually accomplished, as if he’d touched her hair a hundred times before, that she couldn’t move. ‘Like a sister.’She swallowed, hard. ‘Is she conservative or flashy?’He lifted a brow in thought. ‘Somewhere in the middle.’‘Does she like
Being Yours BOOK 7
Sunlight washed the screened-in porch with hazy, luminous light. Dust motes clung to the air, drifting with the rose-scented breeze that brushed Rachel’s face like a soothing whisper. Stretched out on her rattan sofa, heat prickled through her jeans, warming her skin and numbing her body. Her eyelids drooped closed as she slipped closer to sleep.The couch’s green and yellow stripes had long since faded, but the cushions were still plump, cradling her in a cocoon of softness. She turned her face into the sun and breathed in the scents of budding trees, fresh-cut grass and the crisp smell of morning burning into afternoon.She shouldn’t be wasting time lounging when she had so much to do. If she started dressing now, she’d just make it in time for Senator Hastings’ fundraiser. But her life allowed so few quiet moments, she hated to give this one up.A shift in the cushions and the telltale sound of purring caused her to open her eyes. Miss Bastet pawed the couch. With her round, golden
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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
