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BOOK 7
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2024-10-29 19:42:56Related chapters
Being Yours BOOK 7
Arriving with the destructive force of a flash flood, Jackson’s dark eyes took on the appearance of bruised clouds whipped with icy rain. The air around him sizzled with trapped electricity. The hair on Rachel’s arms stood on end, tracking a path up to her nape where tingles crept across her scalp. She thought it odd for the sky to be clear and crisp and softening with the approaching dusk. Heated wind should be beating against the wooden slats of her house, while stinging rain slashed her windows. But the storm had come inside - with her. Somehow she had to get rid of it.She tilted her head back and held her ground as Jackson stepped into her entry way. Her grip on the doorknob tightened and she planted her other hand on the wooden trim, blocking his path. ‘You’re not coming inside.’He hesitated, backed up a step. His eyes narrowed a calculating degree. ‘Aren’t you acting a little childish?’‘About letting a virtual stranger into my home? A man who has done nothing but harass me an
Being Yours BOOK 7
‘All right, Rachel. You win,’ he said, then left through the back door, closing it behind him.Her stomach twisted, coiling into a knot. Finally she had her house to herself again. She drew several breaths before coherent thought resurfaced. She glanced at the phone and considered calling Penny, but discarded the idea. In a few minutes, maybe.She needed time to recover from the last encounter with Jackson and the vibrant, turbulent emotions still building inside her. What she felt for him, the things she wanted from him despite the fact that he threatened her safe existence, astounded her.Going to the kitchen table, she sat in a chair and cradled her head in her hands. Whenever she was with him, she didn’t simply experience a physical reaction, though heaven knew she couldn’t stop thinking about how his arms felt around her, or how his kiss sent her mind swimming with dizzying pleasure. Who would have ever thought a man could taste so rich and warm and spicy? What she wouldn’t give
Being Yours BOOK 7
She stared at the empty spot where the car had been parked as her mind absorbed the fact. Instead of welcoming the respite, she experienced an absurd form of resentment that he’d left without telling her. Back inside, she shut the door, her thoughts narrowing on the man who was quickly becoming an obsession. He’d been so adamant about following her everywhere, why would he leave without talking to her first? Was he up to something, or had he simply gone for a cup of sludge coffee and a restroom break, which he must definitely need after nearly ten hours of surveillance work?Returning to the kitchen, she switched on the gas under the kettle filled with water. She reached for a cup but hesitated when she spotted a piece of her stationery on the counter. Her heart missed a beat as she picked it up.So he had been inside. She glanced around, expecting him to appear. She remembered unlocking the front door. Then how . . . ? The back door. Had she locked it after he’d left? She couldn’t re
Being Yours BOOK 7
The telephone screeched with the ear-piercing shrill of an angry child. Rachel flinched and resisted the urge to run from the room as memories of another police station on another long-ago night assailed her. Hallways crammed with people, shouted curses, some drunken, others hateful, the sharp tang of ammonia and the underlying stench of unwashed bodies had added to the mayhem when Penny had been arrested for stealing. But ‘stealing’ was too casual a word for what her sister had been involved in. She’d been drawn into a world of organized crime, and Rachel had been too busy to notice. Once she had, it had almost been too late to save her.Today, the pale gray hallways were busy, but not overly crowded. A steady hum of conversation layered the room, adding definition to the people milling about. A musty odor coated the building, a collective residue from people who’d previously walked through the doors to report a crime or to search for lost loved ones.Was she too late now? Or was she
Being Yours BOOK 7
Rachel stood alone in the middle of Jackson’s immense living room, absorbing facts about him that he would never have revealed on his own. White mini-blinds on the patio door blended with the off-white walls. He hadn’t bothered with pictures or drapes to relieve the bleached color. The couch, set at a haphazard angle in the middle of the room, was a burlap, Rent-to-Own special that no one in their right mind would ever buy. Or at least, no one with any taste. A veneered walnut-brown end table supported a pastel lamp that she guessed dated from the 60s. He didn’t own a coffee table. The room seemed a contradiction to the man she thought she was coming to know.She made a slow turn, noticing the lack of personal mementos, framed photographs, anything that would allude to a hobby or special interest. No books or magazines. A pile of folders and newspapers tossed on the floor was the only evidence that the place was inhabited at all. She couldn’t imagine anyone living here. It was as if J
Being Yours BOOK 7
Jackson watched the color drain from Rachel’s face. The firm set of her lips relaxed as her mouth dropped open. Her expressive gray eyes grew round and wide. A series of emotions passed through them - surprise, confusion and finally disbelief.‘You think falling in love was a mistake?’ she asked in a carefully controlled voice.‘I didn’t think so at the time, but in retrospect, yes.’She nodded, her entire body tensing. ‘And loving this woman caused you problems?’‘I won’t go into the gritty details,’ he said, not because he thought she wouldn’t want to hear about Sandra, but because admitting how big a fool he’d been still had the power to strike a raw chord in his ego. ‘She had been my business partner as well as my fiancee, and I trusted her enough to give her fifty per cent of my company. Because of my bad judgement, I lost everything. Almost had to file for bankruptcy,’ he added with a rueful laugh.‘So you decided never to trust anyone again.’ She said it as a statement of fact
Being Yours BOOK 7
With his fingers spread, he skimmed his palm up her side until he grazed the full curve of her breast. She didn’t trust him completely. He understood that, and would do whatever it took to change her mind. Because she was the last person he’d ever want to hurt.In a voice that demanded an answer, he asked, ‘Do you want me?’Her expression softened, and she closed her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. Then she met his gaze, and her eyes were bright with appeal. ‘But I don’t want to be hurt.’A pent-up breath shuddered out of him. ‘That makes two of us. But if you want me to stop and take you to your car, you need to tell me. Now.’ He thought he should earn extra points in heaven for asking.Her fingers slid into his hair and gripped his head. Her eyes glazed, shining as if a light burned inside her. She drew him closer, holding his gaze until his lips touched hers with a sweetness that bordered on devastating. He kissed her again, then again, the urgency building as she told him without word
Being Yours BOOK 7
Thunder rumbled the walls of his bedroom, pulling Jackson from his light doze. He was on his back with Rachel curved into his side, her head tucked against his shoulder. Her steady breathing warmed his neck as she slept. Moments before her eyes had slipped shut with exhaustion, she’d burrowed her fingers into his chest hair, then nestled against him, fitting her body to his as if it were the most natural thing for her to do. Since she’d never had sex before, he knew there was nothing natural about the act. But then they hadn’t had sex ; it had been something . . . else. Something that defied description.He had no idea how long they’d slept, but he thought it hadn’t been more than an hour. He didn’t want to risk waking Rachel by twisting around to look at the clock on the nightstand to find out. Gray shadows sealed the room. He couldn’t tell if the lack of light was due to the approaching dusk or the storm clouds that had gathered over the city during the day. Hearing the soft tapping
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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
