To Wear His Ring: Circle of Gold / Trophy Wives / Dakota Bride

She wondered what she’d done to provoke that anger. It made her uneasy. Pauline obviously didn’t like it, either, and the woman was giving Kasie looks that promised retribution in the near future. Kasie had a feeling that Miss Raines would make a very bad enemy, and deep in her stomach, she felt icy cold.

Chapter Seven

It took an hour to get checked into the luxury hotel. The girls played quietly in the marble-floored lobby with a puzzle book Kasie had brought along for them, while Pauline complained loudly and nonstop about the inconvenience of having to wait for a room to be made ready. By the time the clerk motioned them to the desk, Gil was completely out of humor. He hadn’t smiled since they got off the plane, in fact. When they were given keys to a two-bedroom suite and a single adjoining room, Pauline’s expression lightened.

“Oh, that’s nice of you, darling, letting Miss Mayfield have a room of her own.”

Gil gave her a look that combined exasperation with impatience. “The girls can’t be alone at night in a strange hotel,” he said curtly. “Kasie’s staying in the room with them, and the other bedroom in the suite is mine. You get the single.”

“Why can’t I just share with you, darling?” Pauline purred, enjoying Kasie’s sudden flush.

Gil looked furious. He glared down at her from his superior height. “Maybe you’ve forgotten that I don’t move with the times,” he said quietly.

Pauline laughed a little nervously. “You’re kidding. What’s so bad about two…friends sharing a room?”

“I’m not kidding,” Gil said flatly. He handed Pauline her key and motioned for Kasie and the girls to follow him.

Pauline stomped into the elevator, fuming. She gave Kasie a ferocious glare before she folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the wall. The bellboy signaled that he’d wait for the next elevator to bring their luggage up, because six other people had jumped into the elevator right behind Pauline.

Gil and Pauline led the way down the hall, with Kasie and the girls following suit.

“At least, you can take me out tonight,” Pauline told Gil, “since Kasie’s along to baby-sit. Come on, darling, please? They have the most beautiful casino over on Paradise Island, and floor shows, too.”

“All right,” he said. “Let me get the girls and Kasie settled first, and find out about room service. You will want to have supper up here, won’t you?” he asked Kasie stiffly.

“Of course,” she said, not wanting to make things worse than they were—if that was possible.

“Good. Kasie can take the girls out to the beach while I check with the concierge about reservations,” he added, watching Pauline’s face beam. “I’ll pick you up at your room at five-thirty.”

“But that only gives me an hour to dress,” she moaned.

“You’d look beautiful in a pillowcase, and you know it,” he chided. “Go on.”

“Okay.” Pauline walked off to her own room without a word to the girls or Kasie.

Gil opened the door, noting that the bellboy was coming down the hall toward them with the luggage on a rolling carrier. He motioned Kasie and the girls inside.

“The bedrooms both have two double beds,” he told Kasie stiffly. “And there’s a balcony off the sitting room, if you want to sit outside and watch the surf after the girls get to sleep,” he added, indicating the French doors that led onto a small balcony with two padded chairs.

“We’ll be fine,” she told him.

“Don’t let them stay up past eight, no matter what they say,” he told her. “And don’t you stay up too late, either.”

“I won’t.”

He hesitated at the door to his own room and looked at Kasie for a long moment, until her heart began to race. “You didn’t tell me that you lost your family in an air crash. Why?”

“The subject didn’t come up,” she said gruffly.

“If it had,” he replied curtly, “you wouldn’t have been sitting alone, despite Pauline’s little machinations with the seat assignments.”

She was taken aback by the anger in his tone. “Oh.”

“You make me feel like a gold-plated heel from time to time, Kasie,” he said irritably. “I don’t like it.”

“I was all right,” she assured him nervously. “Zeke took care of me.”

That set him off again. “You’re getting paid to take care of my children, not to holiday with some refugee from a press room,” he pointed out, his voice arctic.

She stiffened. “I hadn’t forgotten that, Mr. Callister,” she added deliberately, aware that the girls had stopped playing and were staring up at the adults with growing disquiet. She turned away. “Come on, babies,” she said with a forced smile. “Let’s go change into our bathing suits, then we can go play on the beach!”

“All of you stay out of the water,” Gil said shortly. “And I want you back up here before I leave with Pauline.”

“Yes, sir,” Kasie said, just because she knew it made him angry.

He said something under his breath and slammed the door to his own room behind him. Kasie had a premonition that it wasn’t going to be much of a holiday.

She and the girls played in the sand near the ocean. On the way outside, Kasie had bought them small plastic buckets and shovels from one of the stores in the arcade. They were happily dumping sand on each other while, around them, other sun-worshipers lay on towel-covered beach chaise lounges or splashed in the water. The hotel was near the harbor, as well, and they watched a huge white ocean liner dock. It was an exciting place to visit.

Kasie, who’d only ever seen the worst part of foreign countries, was like a child herself as she gazed with fascination at rows of other luxury hotels on the beach, as well as sailboats and cruise ships in port. Nassau was the brightest, most beautiful place she’d ever been. The sand was like sugar under her feet, although hot enough to scorch them, and the color of the water was almost too vivid to believe. Smiling, she drank in the warmth of the sun with her eyes closed.

But it was already time to go back up to the room. She hated telling the girls, who begged to stay on the beach.

“We can’t, babies,” she said gently. “Your dad said we have to be in the room when he leaves. There’s a television,” she added. “They might have cartoons.”

They still looked disappointed. “You could read us stories,” Bess said.

Kasie smiled and hugged her. “Yes, I could. And I will. Come on, now, clean out your pails and shovels, and let’s go.”

“Oh, all right, Kasie, but it’s very sad we have to leave,” Bess replied.

“Don’t want to go.” Jenny pouted.

Kasie picked her up and kissed her sandy cheek. “We’ll come out early in the morning, and look for shells on the beach!”

Jenny’s eyes lit up. She loved seashells. “Truly, Kasie?”

“Honest and truly.”

“Whoopee!” Bess yelled. “I’ll get Jenny’s pail, too. Can we have fish for supper?”

“Anything you like,” Kasie told her as she put Jenny down and refastened her swimsuit strap that had come loose.

Above them, at the window of his room, Gil watched the byplay, unseen. He sighed with irritation as he watched the girls respond so wholeheartedly to Kasie. They loved her. How were they going to react if she decided to quit? She was very young; too young to think of making a lifelong baby-sitter. Pauline said she’d been very adamant about sending the girls away to school, but that was hard to believe, watching her with them. She was tender with them, as Darlene had been.

He rammed his hands hard into the pockets of his dress slacks. It hurt remembering how happy the two of them had been, especially after the birth of their second little girl. In the Callister family, girls were special, because there hadn’t been a girl in the lineage for over a hundred years. Gil loved having daughters. A son would have been nice, he supposed, but he wouldn’t have traded either of his little jewels down there for anything else.

It wounded him to remember how cold he’d been to Kasie before and after the plane trip. He hadn’t known about her family dying in a plane crash. He could only imagine how difficult it had been for her to get aboard with those memories. And he’d been sitting with Pauline, talking about Broadway shows. Pauline had said that Kasie wanted to sit by herself, so he hadn’t protested.