She felt immeasurably changed and numbly bewildered by the suddenness of it. Yesterday she had been confident and secure, her emotions on an even keel, virtually detached from the feud that had altered and ruined so many lives. But in only a few short hours, her detachment had been stripped away from her.
Her father had often been annoyed by her disinclination to join him in cursing the Stuarts, but he had shrugged away her lack of venom because he loved his daughter. Perhaps he even knew on some level that hate was a particularly ugly thing on the face of a woman. Still, it had never occurred to him that at the core of herself she didn’t hate as strongly as he did. He simply expected it of her.
And she knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he discovered how close she had come to lying in the arms of his enemy, it would devastate him.
Michele had once thought the feud rather melodramatic, but her wry amusement had died on the day she’d first seen—really seen and understood—the depth of her father’s hatred. She’d been no more than thirteen, becoming a woman with all the reluctance of a tomboy, and she’d fought her father fiercely when he had decided it was time for her to wear a dress and play hostess for some of his business dinners. Since her mother had died years before, he had been without a hostess, and Michele unwillingly had accepted that role.
Michele leaned against her door for a moment, then fumbled in her purse for the key and let herself into the room. She closed and locked the door and tossed her purse onto the bed, dropping her shoes on the floor.
It was during that first business dinner that a chance remark by one of the guests showed her the feud in a new and far more serious light. She had left the room for some reason, returning moments later and reaching the doorway just in time to hear the remark. She couldn’t remember the exact words now, but one of the men had said something about how beautiful Charles Logan’s daughter was going to be one day. She had paused, unexpectedly pleased. But then another man laughed and said something that had driven the pleasure away.
“Stuart has a son just about the right age. That young man has a roving eye; take care it doesn’t light on Michele. What perfect revenge that would be!”
She had felt shock, and then she had seen her father’s face and had understood what hate really was. His stony expression and the cold glitter in his eyes had been so dreadful that she had felt sickened by it. And even though his response had been uttered lightly, she had heard the implacable truth in it.
“The day a Stuart lays a hand on my little girl is the last day he’ll ever see. They won’t even have to waste money burying him because I’ll blow the bastard into a million pieces.”
She wasn’t a little girl now, but she was still her father’s daughter, and though the appalling truth that she had virtually invited seduction might possibly stop her father from getting his gun and going after Ian, nothing would prevent him from disowning her.
Ian was far less concerned by what a relationship between them would do to his father, she knew. Perhaps his father was less bitter. Or perhaps it was just that Ian knew what was, to Michele, a painful truth; a man could sleep with the daughter of an enemy and call it revenge. Or he could simply confess to a sexual attraction and shrug off who she was.
But a woman…no, it was different for a woman. To sleep with the son of her father’s enemy would be the worst possible blow she could deal her father, and one from which he would never recover.
She was on the point of collapsing onto the bed when there was a sudden hammering on the connecting door to the next room, and a lively voice called out.
“Michele! Hey, open up—I made it!”
Jackie. Her best friend since childhood, and the one outsider who understood all too well the hatred between the Logans and the Stuarts. Orphaned and living with an aunt and uncle, Jackie had spent more time in Michele’s home than in her own while they were growing up, and as a result, she had heard the Stuarts cursed for most of her life.
Michele glanced down at herself and then stepped to the mirror over the dresser. The reflection she saw made her wince. Her hair was tumbled wildly around a pale face, her lips swollen and reddened, her eyes holding a strained, darkened expression. But there was little she could do about her appearance; another bang on the door indicated that Jackie was waiting impatiently.
Opening her side of the connecting door, Michele deliberately spoke first. “When did you get here? I’ve been walking out on the beach.”
Jackie looked her up and down, and then laughed. “No kidding. You look like hell, friend.”
“Thanks a lot.” Michele kept her voice light.
“As a matter of fact, the desk clerk told me he thought you’d gone out. I just got here a few minutes ago. Keep me company while I unpack, will you?”
“Let me take a shower first. I’ve got sand practically up to my knees.”
“Okay,” Jackie said amiably, turning back toward the open suitcases on the bed. “I guess you’ve eaten?”
“Uh huh.” Had she? She couldn’t remember. But she wasn’t hungry.
“Well, I’m going to call down for something. The airplane food was the usual cooked cardboard. Want anything?”
“Not to eat. Some iced tea.”
“I’ll order it.”
Michele retreated from the doorway. She got a sleep shirt from one of the dresser drawers and went into the bathroom. The bright light in that tiny room, unlike the shaded lamps of the bedroom, showed her even more clearly how she looked. Jackie had noticed nothing unusual, but Michele knew her friend too well to expect her to go on missing the obvious.
She stripped out of her clothing and took a long shower. When she got out, she dried off and wrapped her thick hair in a towel, then pulled the sleep shirt over her head. She was trying not to think, to keep her mind blank, but another glance in the mirror brought back vivid memories of Ian’s kisses.
She looked kissed, thoroughly kissed, her lips faintly swollen and their color deeper than usual. She held a washcloth under cold water and then pressed the cloth to her mouth in an effort to erase the signs.
What she was doing sent a pang of bitterness through her. How dreadful to feel the need to wipe all evidence of a man’s kisses from her face! Especially when she had invited those kisses and had responded wildly to them. Michele fiercely pushed the thoughts away.
Room service had come and gone, leaving a tray on the small table by Jackie’s balcony doors. Michele took one of the chairs—the one out of direct light of the lamps—and poured herself a glass of tea, while Jackie took the other and began eating the club sandwich she’d ordered.
“So, how’s Martinique?” she asked cheerfully. “I know you’ve already explored since you got here yesterday.”
“It’s just what the travel brochures promised. The scenery is gorgeous; wait until you see Mont Pelée. Fort-de-France has colorful houses and palms lining the streets. It’s really beautiful.”
“Well, since you were walking on the beach tonight, I gather the hotel has a respectable one?”
“So-so. It’s only about half a mile long, and we’re so close to the harbor that there’s a lot of water traffic. But the hotel grounds have a lovely garden, and there’s a big pool.” She conjured a smile. “The service is good, the food’s fine, the bed’s comfortable, and rum is cheap.”
Jackie giggled. “Neither of us likes rum.”
“Well, it’s cheap if we want any. In the meantime, we can lie on the beach or by the pool, and when we get tired of being lazy we can explore the island. I only got a quick look at it today, so there’s plenty left to see.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Jackie said with a luxurious sigh. She was a redhead with bright green eyes and a vivid face. Full of life, she seemed like a sister to Michele, who had loved her since they were children.
“A nice vacation. Speaking of which, I thought you were going to be held up a few days?”
“The crisis was resolved sooner than expected.” Jackie grimaced. She was employed by o
ne of the television stations in Atlanta, where crises occurred on a regular basis, especially in the news division where she worked as an assistant to a producer. “As soon as the dust settled, I told Doug I was gone and vanished before anything else could happen.”
“He didn’t waylay you at the airport?”
She grinned. “Obviously not. I’m here. I could have sworn I heard somebody calling my name in a pitiful voice as I escaped into the wild blue yonder.”
“Leaving a note for Cole?”
Jackie’s piquant face softened instantly at the name of the man in her life, but then her mouth twisted. “A message on his answering machine, dammit. He was out of town.”
Michele hadn’t yet met the paragon who had stolen her friend’s heart, but she’d heard his name often enough during the past weeks.
“Where is he this time?”
“Lord knows. You’d think even a sales representative would know where he was going, but Cole never seems to. He barely had time to send me a dozen roses with a note. He said this trip would last only a couple of days, so I’ll try calling him tomorrow. I wish he had been able to get time off. It would have been great.”
“Thanks,” Michele murmured.
Jackie cocked an eyebrow at her. “Not that you aren’t loads of fun, but boasting a gorgeous man on my arm is definitely preferable to my childhood friend and roommate from college. Besides, I want to find out if he snores.”
“You haven’t yet?”
“Who’s had time to sleep?” Jackie managed to look both deliciously happy and slightly self-conscious.
Michele felt a pang of envy, and instantly smothered it. Smiling, she said, “Then why on earth are you taking your vacation with your old college roommate? I know we planned this trip ages before you met Cole, but I would have understood—”
“I know, but he said he was going to be working long hours for a while, and I needed a break. Besides, Cole and I are too new to be making demands on each other. I don’t want him to get the idea that I can’t move a step without him.”
“Just don’t feel obligated to stay here with me.”
“I won’t.” Jackie finished her sandwich and rose to resume her unpacking, adding in a calm tone, “By the way, what’s happened to you?”
Michele sipped her tea to give herself a moment. “What do you mean?”
“Look in a mirror. I’d guess you’ve had some kind of shock. Obviously you’re not going to volunteer any information, so I suppose I’m going to have to pull it out of you.”
Michele had always confided in her friend. But this was something she couldn’t confide to Jackie, who would never understand; she might not have Logan blood, but she had adopted the family and seemed to be convinced that a Stuart was the lowest animal on earth.
Michele felt very alone, trying to think of something that wouldn’t be a lie—and wouldn’t be the truth.
Jackie continued to unpack, but darted inquisitive glances at her oldest and closest friend. At last she said softly, “It must have been pretty bad.”
Drawing a deep breath, Michele said, “I need to wrestle with it by myself for a while. Do you mind?”
“Your father and Jon are all right?”
“They’re fine.”
Jackie nodded. “Okay. Just don’t forget I’m here when you’re ready to talk about it.”
“I won’t.”
After a long, thoughtful look at her friend, Jackie announced she was going to take a shower, and Michele returned to her own room and moved around restlessly.
The ringing of the phone startled her. She frowned as she went to the bed and sat down, glancing at the clock on the nightstand before answering. Jon wouldn’t call twice in one day unless…
“Hello?”
“Michele, don’t hang up.”
She felt her heart begin to pound, and swallowed hard. It was the first time she’d heard his voice over the phone, but she had no trouble recognizing it. “I wasn’t going to,” she said steadily. “I wanted to tell you something. Jackie got here a little while ago, so I’m not alone now.”
“And you want me to stay away,” Ian said flatly.
“I told you that on the beach.”
He was silent for a moment, then sighed. “That isn’t going to be easy, Michele. I meant what I said out there. I want you.” His voice was low, and the last three words were a husky demand rather than a mere statement.
Michele leaned her head back against the headboard of the bed and closed her eyes. Why didn’t she just hang up? She should hang up. Her pulse was racing and she felt hot. “Even if I knew I could trust you, it wouldn’t be possible. Don’t you understand?” Her breath caught as the haunting suspicions flooded up from the depths of her mind. “Or maybe you understand all too well.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you want to destroy my family, Ian, is that it? Is that what you’re trying to do?”
“This isn’t about our families, dammit, it’s about us.” His voice had sharpened and gone hard. “You and me, and what’s between us. It doesn’t have a thing to do with anyone else.”
“You’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not. Twenty generations, Michele. Twenty generations of people living with hate and suspicion. Maybe you want to be part of that, but I don’t. Your brother can hate me to hell and back, and I won’t fight him. Do you understand that? I won’t fight him. If I have to, I’ll leave Atlanta, but the feud stops with me.”
“Why?” She cleared her throat and steadied her voice. “Why are you so determined?”
His voice went low and rough again. “I held a Logan in my arms tonight. Maybe it never would have happened if we hadn’t met in paradise, but it did happen. I can’t be certain about much, Michele, but I know I could never hate you. So how could I hate your brother?”
Tears stung her eyes, but still she was remembering Jon’s evasiveness earlier. What if something was happening, or about to happen, in Atlanta that would force Ian to hate? What if her father and Jon gave him no choice?
“Michele, please trust me. I won’t do anything to hurt you, but I can’t stay away.”
She drew a shaky breath, fighting an intense longing. But clashing with that were suspicions and fears and the overwhelming knowledge that it just wasn’t possible. “If you don’t want to hurt me, you have to stay away. Goodbye, Ian.” She cradled the receiver gently.
—
For three days, Ian stayed away. He made certain Jackie never caught a glimpse of him. He recognized the redhead as the one who, on the rare occasions he had been anywhere near her, had looked at him as if he were a leper. He had always felt more hostility coming from her than from Michele.
Still, he managed to watch Michele from time to time as she and her friend came and went. She was clearly bent on spending as little time at the hotel as possible, probably to keep away from him. But on the third day Jackie dragged her out to the pool, and Ian overheard the redhead laughingly say that she’d had enough sightseeing for a while and wanted to be lazy.
A slow anger built inside Ian when he saw Michele glance uneasily around. The hellish feud between their families had done this to her—and to him. A grown man and woman, attracted to each other yet fighting to ignore their feelings because they were supposed to be enemies.
Attracted? Lord, the word was useless to describe what he felt when he looked at her.
It had hit him only the night she’d hung up the telephone on him that he had wanted Michele Logan for a very long time. He had vivid memories of her at varying ages…and of his admiration for her talents and determination, as well as her beauty. He had known it somewhere deep inside him for years, but it wasn’t something he had allowed himself to dwell on because the very idea had been unthinkable.
Until now. They were thousands of miles from home and the battleground both recognized; perhaps that had made it easier to consider the unthinkable. And after he’d held her in his arms, had been burned by the fire between the
m, the unthinkable had become the necessary.
Watching her during those three days, Ian went over and over it in his mind. He listed all the arguments against them, tried to see and understand that her risks would be greater than his, asked himself why he couldn’t just forget this insanity.
But when he saw her just after dawn on the fourth day, he knew that he couldn’t forget her, he couldn’t let her run away, and he couldn’t stay away.
The sun was barely up, hanging low and brilliantly orange over the island when he came out of the garden and caught sight of her on the strip of sand. The beach was deserted except for them. She was walking slowly along the waterline toward the place they’d stood when they’d kissed. And just as it had been before, he followed her without thought.
She reached the low ridge of volcanic rock, and this time climbed up a couple of feet and sat staring out at the sea. Her shining raven hair was hanging down her back in a simple braid, the end tied with a bit of lace. She was barefoot and wearing a white dress that made her look even more delicate and feminine than usual. The dress had a full skirt and thin straps tied on each of her shoulders.
She was unaware of his approach, and Ian reached her before she saw him. He felt his stomach tighten as he stepped up to her. He was standing literally between her legs; she had her feet braced apart on the rock, her skirt bunched up carelessly and draped between her thighs. They were nearly at eye level since he was still on the sand.
Michele’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word.
He didn’t dare move closer; even without touching, their proximity and provocative positions charged the air between them. But he couldn’t help lifting his hands and resting them lightly on her thighs just above the knees and below the bunched folds of her white skirt.
“Where’s your friend?” he murmured.
“She’s sleeping in. She isn’t a morning person.”
“Have you been out here every morning? If so, I wish I’d known.”
Michele cleared her throat softly. “I usually run in the mornings. I didn’t feel like it today.” She was trying not to shiver in pleasure as his thumbs rhythmically brushed the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs.