Captive In Eden

He gave her an assessing look. ‘Sean felt he couldn’t live without you for that long. He could not imagine that you would choose to go on a trip to Mexico over being with him.’

She felt a rush of anger. ‘Oh, so he told you, did he?’

He gave a half-smile. ‘No. I’ve known Sean for a while and it’s simply an educated guess. Why are you going to Mexico?’

‘A friend of mine is leading a small research team and I’ve been asked to come along as the photographer. There’s not much money in it, but the experience is worth a lot and it’ll be a new environment for me, and that’s always very inspiring.’ She bit her lip, feeling a pang of bitter pain. ‘Unfortunately, Sean does not think my work is very important. He said as much yesterday.’ Her voice wobbled suddenly and it made her angry.

‘And you do not take that kindly.’

‘No,’ she said tightly. ‘I told him I wasn’t going to tolerate his disrespect and…’ She hesitated and stopped.

‘And what?’ he prompted.

Suddenly it was hard not to smile. ‘I told him he had a big title and a big salary and a small mind. He didn’t like that. I think leaving without me was his idea of revenge.’

‘How very childish of him.’ Chase smiled a lazy smile. ‘So, here you are, stranded,’ he concluded. He seemed to find the idea amusing.

She finished her coffee and pushed the cup away from her. ‘If you wouldn’t mind telling me directions to this place, I’ll ask my mother to come and get me. I wasn’t paying attention where we were going yesterday.’

‘You live with your mother?’

‘No. I have my own place, but my parents don’t live far.’

He leaned back in his chair. ‘And what is your mother going to think when she arrives here and sees you like this?’

Sky shrugged. ‘I’ll tell her what happened and she’ll think it’s hilarious. She has quite a sense of humour. Besides, my mother doesn’t worry about my morals.’

‘She doesn’t? Why is that?’

She sighed. ‘Because there’s nothing to worry about.’

He nodded. ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ he said piously and she wanted to throw her coffee at him. She managed to control herself.

‘None the less,’ he went on, ‘let’s not inconvenience your mother this morning. I’ll drive you home.’

‘That’s not necessary. I live almost an hour’s drive from here.’

‘No problem. First we’ll have breakfast.’

She stiffened. She didn’t want him to drive her home, but it didn’t seem as if she had much choice. It was clear that he was a man who did what he wanted to do and arguing was going to get her nowhere.

‘I don’t want any breakfast, thank you. I’d just as soon get going so I can get out of these clothes and into the shower. I feel stupid sitting here in this ridiculous dress.’

‘You can get out of the dress and into a shower here.’ He held up his hand as if to ward off a refusal. ‘Please be my guest, since you are already, anyway.’

‘I don’t have any clothes to change into. I didn’t come prepared for this…excursion, even if you do think so.’

‘I’m sure we can find you something. Come along. You take that shower while I cook us some breakfast.’

‘Why don’t you just take me home?’

He shrugged lightly. ‘I’m in no hurry.’ And I call the shots, his eyes said. Without me you’re going nowhere.

She was at his mercy.

‘I hope you’re enjoying this little power game,’ she said with cold disdain.

One dark brow lifted sardonically. ‘Power game? Let’s not be melodramatic, shall we? I simply prefer to have some breakfast before starting my day, and I’m offering you the same, as well as a shower and a change of clothes. I’m only trying to be a good host.’ He smiled politely and gestured at the open kitchen door. ‘Come with me.’

She followed him up the curving staircase, feeling frustrated and out of control. She didn’t like feeling out of control. The man’s attitude displayed a confusing mixture of charm, suspicion and politeness and it was difficult to deal with.

He threw open the door to a large bedroom. ‘The bathroom is through there,’ he said, pointing across the room. ‘Help yourself to whatever you need.’ He opened a wardrobe. ‘There are clothes in here.’ He gave her a quick, assessing look. ‘I’m sure you’ll find something that will fit.’

She glanced at the clothes. Expensive, fashionable clothes. ‘Whose are these? Your wife’s?’

He gave a half-smile. ‘No. If I had a wife, believe me she would not have her own room or her own bed. She’d share mine.’

‘She’d have to want to,’ she blurted out. Oh, God, why couldn’t she control her tongue?

His green eyes met hers. ‘Oh,’ he said slowly, meaningfully, ‘she’d want to.’

Against her will she had to admit that this was probably true. Disturbing images flooded her mind and she pushed them away with an effort. ‘Sure of yourself, aren’t you?’ she asked, putting a good dose of mockery in her voice.

He smiled. ‘Oh, very.’ He glanced around the room. ‘This is my—er—sister’s room.’

His—er—sister’s room. Sure it was. She gave him a sceptical look and his green eyes gleamed. He moved back to the door. ‘I’ll start breakfast. Do you have any particular dislikes or allergies?’

Yes, you, she wanted to say, but didn’t.

‘No. I like everything.’

‘A woman after my own heart,’ he said, and for the second time in minutes she was tempted to throw something at him. He closed the door and was gone.

‘All men are scum’, a fifteen-year-old cousin had told her not long ago, trying to sound important and world-wise. Well, Sky was beginning to think the kid was right. All men except Josh, she amended automatically as she glowered at the closed bedroom door. But Josh was dead. Josh had not been scum. Josh had been wonderful. They’d shared a marriage licence, a tiny apartment, a cosy bed, very little money and a wealth of dreams.

It would never be like that again. She was no longer the starry-eyed teenage bride. There would never be another Josh. She did not expect there to be, of course. She was older now, she had a career, and her life had moved on. The men she met were older and established in a career.

She glanced around. The bedroom that belonged to the—er—sister was beautiful. It was the sort of room you saw in expensive, glossy magazines. A huge canopy bed commanded the room, the bedlinen lacy and white. The furniture in the room was all antique and gleamed with good care and lots of polishing.

The bathroom was sumptuous with a gorgeous, claw-foot bath and shiny white tiles. An enormous, luxuriant fern cascaded down from a hanging pot. It looked so perfect, she had to touch it to see that it was real and not silk. It was real. Open shelving revealed stacks of fluffy cotton towels in pale jadegreen, soft rose and white. Bathroom toiletries abounded—expensive soaps, bubble bath, shampoos, talcum powder and body lotions.

Having a bath here would be no punishment; she might as well get to it.

As she sat in the steaming, fragrant water, she contemplated men, more specifically the men she had known since she had become a widow at nineteen. It was not encouraging. None of them had taken her career as a nature and wildlife photographer very seriously. It was a nice hobby and certainly it was nice that she earned a little money with it, but their own careers were so much more important and serious and so much more lucrative. The more money you made, the more prestige and status you had.

Well, she liked money well enough and earning more would not hurt her feelings, but she resented having her career being judged by some monetary value standard.

She’d known an architect, a business consultant and now Sean, who was the managing director of a computer-systems design firm. All of them had been nice and charming and had taken her out to lovely dinners and given her roses and wanted to sleep with her. All of them had thought she was beautiful and amusing and enjoyed her company. All of them had thought she took pretty pictures and why didn’t she move out of that rustic barn and into a decent town house somewhere closer to the civilised world like Washington or Richmond? Surely she could take pictures there? It would be so much more convenient.