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  “You’re not a psychologist and I’m not a patient, so stop with the analyzing,” she muttered, trying to ignore what he was saying.

  “You’re a romantic, an idealist,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “But you hide that part of your nature—behind a wall that isn’t a wall at all. You’ve got yourself convinced that it’s an act, and that conviction keeps you from being hurt.”

  Kendall shot him a glare from beneath her lashes. “Now you’re not even making sense,” she retorted scornfully.

  “Oh, yes, I am.” His eyes got that hooded look she was beginning to recognize out of sheer self-defense. “A piece of the puzzle just fell into place. But it’s still a long way from being solved. And, rest assured, Kendall, I intend to solve it.”

  “Is this in the nature of another warning?” she asked lightly, irritated that her heart had begun to beat like a jungle drum.

  “Call it anything you like.”

  “I could just leave, you know.”

  “You could.” The heavy lids lifted, revealing a cool challenge. “But that would be cowardly.”

  Knowing—knowing—that she was walking right into his trap, Kendall snapped, “I’m a lot of things, Hawke, but a coward isn’t one of them!” And she felt strongly tempted to throw her soup bowl at him when she saw the satisfaction that flickered briefly in his eyes.

  “Good,” he said briskly. “Then we can forget about that angle, can’t we? And get down to business.”

  “Business?” she asked wryly. “That’s one I haven’t heard.”

  “Well, I would have called it romance, but I didn’t want you to laugh at me.” He grinned faintly. “Men are more romantic than women, you know. I read it somewhere.”

  “Fancy that.” Kendall stared at him. “Most of the men I’ve known let romance go by the board.”

  “Really? Then knowing me will be an education.”

  An hour later, strolling with Hawke along a moonlit beach, she had to admit that she’d gotten her signals crossed where he was concerned. Either that, or else he was playing a very deep game. She had an odd feeling that Hawke himself had abruptly decided to change his game plan sometime during dinner.

  For the past hour he’d been the perfect companion. After dinner he’d invited her for a stroll on the beach, and ever since then he’d talked casually about various things. Politics. Sports. The weather.

  It made Kendall extremely nervous.

  Gently freeing herself from the light grip of his fingers, Kendall walked to the edge of the water. Having shed her sandals earlier, she held up her long skirt with one hand and let the warm water lap against her feet. She had always loved the sight of a full moon hanging low over the ocean and, for some reason, tonight’s moon was even more beautiful than usual.

  She half turned, intending to make some remark to Hawke, but the words never left her throat. He was standing only a couple of feet away, staring at her with an intensity that was both frightening and strangely compelling.

  “What does it feel like, Kendall?” he asked with unexpected roughness, his voice barely audible over the muted roar of the surf.

  “What does what feel like?” She had to swallow hard before the words would emerge properly.

  “Living inside that body, behind that face. Knowing that the world stops when you walk by.” The deep, gritty voice had taken on some quality Kendall couldn’t put a name to. Still. Waiting.

  She felt, strangely, that this moment was somehow important, but she didn’t know why. And she didn’t know how to respond to his words. “Don’t—be ridiculous.”

  “How does it feel?” he insisted softly, stepping closer.

  Yet again, something in his gray eyes seemed to draw a response from deep inside of her. “It feels like a curse,” she whispered, hearing an unfamiliar pain in her voice. “And a cage …”

  He reached out suddenly, enfolding her in his arms. It seemed to be a comforting embrace, and Kendall accepted it as such. She rested her cheek against his chest, hearing the heavy beat of his heart and feeling bewildered.

  “What are you doing to me?” she pleaded softly.

  “Introducing you to the real Kendall,” he responded almost gently, his lips moving in a feathery caress against her hair. “I think you lost her somewhere along the way.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m digging.” His voice was whimsical. “And I’m going to go on digging until I find the real Kendall. And for the first time in your life, you’re going to face your own emotions.”

  Kendall thought briefly of what had happened in South America, and her iron control since then, but brushed the memory away. Trying to infuse her voice with lightness, she mocked softly, “Fascinating! So what did the first few shovelfuls uncover, Sherlock?”

  His arms tightened slightly when she would have drawn away. In a considering tone, he replied, “The fact that you feel trapped inside yourself. You use your beauty—deliberately, consciously—because it’s easier that way, and because there’s really very little you can do about it anyway. But you hate always being taken at face value. And you’ve convinced yourself that no one ever takes the time or the trouble to look beneath the surface.”

  “What an awful lot you’ve uncovered,” she mused dryly, trying again to free herself and giving up again when he refused to release her. “Are you a psychologist, by any chance?”

  “No. Should I hang out a shingle?”

  “If you think I’m going to answer that, you’re crazy!”

  “That’s all right, honey.” His voice was cheerful. “By the time I’ve finished, you’ll admit that I’m right.”

  “Oh, really?” Kendall’s father would have beaten a hasty retreat after hearing that tone, Hawke, apparently, didn’t see the warning signs flashing in neon.

  “Sure. You go right on acting; it’s fine with me. It’ll keep other men at a distance. In the meantime, I’ll just go right on digging. If it takes the rest of my life, Miss James, I’m going to uncover all your secrets.”

  Kendall wasn’t so angry that she didn’t feel a trace of panic. Cheerful or not, he sounded utterly sure of himself, and obviously meant exactly what he said. She needed time to think, to plan some defense.

  That time wasn’t granted.

  Hawke bent his head, nuzzling the soft, sensitive skin just beneath her ear. “Of course,” he murmured huskily, “I may detour now and then from the subject at hand.”

  Kendall fought off an attack of dizziness and struggled to make her voice cool and even. “I think I’d better warn you, Hawke—I’m not any more helpless physically than I am mentally.”

  “Picked up a few tricks along the way, eh?” His voice was softly amused, his breath warm in her ear.

  “A few. And they are—so I’ve been told—acutely painful.” Judging by the traitorously weakened state of her muscles at that moment, Kendall wasn’t sure that she could even attempt any of those nasty little tricks. He didn’t have to know that though.

  He chuckled deep in his chest, his mouth concentrating on the pulse beating frantically at the base of her neck. “Brute strength usually wins out, honey. Besides—we don’t want to turn this into a battle of muscles. Unfair tactics.”

  “And this isn’t an unfair tactic?” It was almost a wail of desperation, and she hated herself for the betraying uncertainty. She could feel the pounding of the surf enter her bloodstream, sapping her will, hear his heart begin to beat with an unsteady rhythm.

  “It’s the only edge I have,” he gritted suddenly, lifting his head and staring down at her. “I want you, Kendall.”

  “But I don’t want you!” she lied stoutly.

  The dark head swooped, his mouth capturing lips parted to form another protest. Another useless protest. There was something greedy in his kiss, sparking an answering hunger within her.

  Kendall was only dimly aware that he had taken the purse and sandals from her nerveless fingers and tossed them on the beach. She felt herself crushed agains
t his broad chest, senses going crazy and rational thought shattering like glass. Something that had slumbered peacefully inside of her for years awoke suddenly.

  Her hands slid beneath his unbuttoned jacket and around to feel the rippling muscles in his back. She felt one of his hands pulling her lower body fiercely against his, and the heat of his desire burned and seduced. Mindlessly, she clung to his strength, her tongue joining his in a duel.

  She didn’t care that she was giving herself away beyond any chance of denial. The only thing that mattered to her at that moment was the satisfaction of this nameless need.

  Hawke tore his mouth from hers suddenly, gazing down at her with gray eyes gone almost black with desire. “Oh, no?”

  Chapter 3

  For one brief, insane moment, Kendall didn’t understand the harsh words. She stared up at him bemusedly, vaguely noting that the moonlight lent his face an air of stark aggression that was just slightly short of alarming. And then she realized that the moonlight had very little to do with it … which was nothing short of alarming.

  Sanity rushed in to fill the cold void left by that realization, and with it temper. Damn! What was the man—a sorcerer? What was he that he could do this to her?

  She tried fiercely to break away from him, and discovered his grip to be as immovable as the island they stood on. “Animals can be attracted to one another,” she snapped witheringly, pushing against his broad chest with both hands and achieving no very noticeable result. “It doesn’t mean a thing.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Like a lumbering bear ignoring the puppy snapping at its heels, Hawke ignored her efforts to escape. “It means that you want me, Kendall—and that’s enough to start with.”

  She stopped struggling suddenly, and lifted her chin with fiery dignity. Bright moonlight showed clearly the anger glittering in her blue-green eyes. “Be that as it may,” she shot back coldly, “I have no intention of getting involved with you. And if that means I’ll have to leave this island—then I will. Cowardly or not.”

  Apparently realizing that goading her would serve no useful purpose this time, he stared down at her for a moment. “Then I’ll make a deal with you,” he told her in a very neutral voice.

  In spite of herself Kendall asked, “What kind of deal?”

  “You don’t run away, and I won’t—force my attentions on you.”

  “There’s a clinker in there somewhere.” She stared at him suspiciously, trying to forget that his arms were still around her and his hands burning against her bare back. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing sinister. In fact, it’s really very simple. You have the control, Kendall. I intend to make love to you at every opportunity—we both know that. But you hold the reins. I give you my word that I’ll stop when you say to.”

  Kendall knew that she was a fool to even consider his “deal,” but she didn’t see any other choice. She couldn’t go back to South America, and she couldn’t leave the resort because her father was to meet her here. Surely she had enough control to hold Hawke at arm’s length! Besides that … she had never in her life run away from a fight.

  And there was something exhilarating in the thought that she would have a special power in this relationship. Rather like a lion tamer must feel … because he had the gun.

  It was the reckless Kendall who spoke, while the worried little voice inside her head moaned a warning. “Will you keep your word, Hawke?”

  “I swear. I won’t force you into a thing.”

  Well, Kendall knew, there was force … and then there was force. A small distinction with dangerous possibilities. But as the tension flowed from her body, she knew that the decision had been made. It was a new game now, with new rules. And the biggest rule of all depended on her own self-control. “All right—I agree.”

  The gray eyes took on that unnervingly satisfied gleam again, and Kendall wondered what she’d gotten herself into. “Good,” he stated softly.

  She tried cautiously to disentangle herself from his hold. “I’d like to go back to the hotel now, Hawke. It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.”

  For a moment she thought he would ignore the request. But then he sighed heavily and stepped back, his arms falling away from her. “All right, honey—if that’s what you want.” He bent to pick up her purse and sandals from the sand, and added humorously, “I’m afraid the hem of your dress is wet.”

  “So are your shoes.” She was grateful for the lightness that had replaced the turbulent emotions of passion and anger. Unobtrusively, she tugged at the bodice of her dress, realizing ruefully that the wet hem was acting as weight to pull down the material. If she were lucky, she just might make it back to the hotel without disgracing herself. If not—well, she could always borrow Hawke’s jacket….

  It was a giddy thought. A moment later Hawke had turned abruptly back to her, picked her up as easily as though she were a child, and began striding along the beach toward the hotel.

  “Hawke!”

  “Well, you’re barefooted,” he explained reasonably, her slight weight obviously not disturbing him in the least.

  Kendall clutched his neck instinctively. “You have my sandals! Put me down, and I’ll—”

  “You’ll never get all the sand off your feet. And I’m sure you know how uncomfortable it is to walk in sandy shoes.”

  “I’ll bear up. Hawke, for heaven’s sake! What if someone sees this caveman display?”

  “People expect to see this sort of thing here. I started to name this place the Love Resort, you know, but changed my mind. Too sappy.”

  Kendall ignored the information Feeling her dress slip a bit more, she said irritably, “I thought you said I could call a halt—”

  “This isn’t lovemaking,” he cut her off ruthlessly in a bland voice. “It’s romancing. Haven’t you ever read the part where the heroine gets swept off her feet?”

  In all the books Kendall had read, the heroine got swept off her feet and right into the hero’s bed. “Now, look,” she began, but broke off hastily as they encountered another couple on leaving the beach and starting up the path to the hotel.

  Polite words were exchanged between Hawke and the other man, and the four passed one another. As the other couple stepped onto the beach and she and Hawke started to round a curve on the path, Kendall distinctly heard the young woman say enviously to her escort, “How sweet! Why aren’t you ever that romantic?”

  In spite of herself, Kendall giggled. Reading the gleam of laughter in the glance Hawke slanted her way, she recovered quickly and said, “Don’t think that excuses you. Just because it’s her idea of romance doesn’t mean it’s mine.”

  “You mean it’s not?” He didn’t seem noticeably dashed.

  “No,” she lied, thinking of knights on white chargers and outmoded chivalry. And dodos and dinosaurs. They had all been killed by the times. “Aren’t you getting tired?” she asked with hope, knowing that it would be futile to struggle and that she would appear as helpless as a three-day-old kitten if she tried.

  “Not at all—you’re as light as a feather.”

  They emerged from the path into the well-lighted pool area just then, and Kendall felt a flush rise in her cheeks as she blinked and encountered the interested stares from two late-night swimmers. One of the women asked the other in an envious stage-whisper, “Does he do that for all his guests?” And the other answered sadly, “Only the lucky ones.”

  Kendall giggled again, and then realized that they were nearly at the hotel door. “Hawke!” she whispered fiercely, tugging on his ear to get his attention. It seemed an absurd thing to do, but she was feeling giddy again. “Put me down this instant! You can’t carry me through the hotel lobby!”

  “Why not?”

  Why not, indeed. Without the slightest sign of embarrassment, he carried her through the lobby. Unfortunately, at least half the guests in the hotel seemed to be milling around in the lobby. At least, it seemed so to Kendall, although there were probably only a
dozen or so people. As if that made a difference.

  Conscious of her bare, sand-covered feet, damp dress, and windblown hair, Kendall resolutely kept her gaze fixed on the rather formidable angle of Hawke’s jaw. She heard a couple of giggles and literally felt several grins, but she didn’t look up. And it didn’t help that they had to wait several minutes for the elevator … which delivered another half dozen witnesses.

  When the elevator doors at last hissed shut behind them, Kendall glanced around guardedly and found that they were alone. And found Hawke gazing down at her with a purely male grin and laughter dancing in his eyes.

  “I don’t suppose,” she said carefully, “that anyone down there thought you were being heroic to an accident victim? A sprained ankle or something?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “And I don’t suppose you’d care to explain to them that this is not what it looks like?”

  “No,” he answered simply, the grin still present.

  “Uh-huh.” Kendall felt an insane urge to burst out laughing. “I’ll have to get busy tonight.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Embroidering scarlet A’s on all my blouses.”

  Hawke laughed softly as he leaned against the wall of the elevator. “How does it feel to be a scarlet woman?”

  “Embarrassing. Tell me”—she linked her fingers together at the back of his neck—“should I expect more of this sort of thing?”

  “It’s romance,” he protested, wounded.

  “Oh, so that’s what you call it. I never would have guessed.”

  “You really love it.”

  She sighed. “People with egos like yours should be locked up. Were you born self-confident, or was it just a little something you learned along the way?”

  “Inherited. Just ask my mother.”

  The elevator doors opened before Kendall could frame an adequate response. Having learned the uselessness of protest, she remained silent as Hawke carried her down the hall.