her own delicious abandon in King’s arms. She was sure the drinks had influenced her. They’d obviously influenced him, too. She went into her bedroom and flicked on the light, quietly removing the jumpsuit and putting on a long, plain cotton nightgown. King had reminded her that anything he did to her would be only out of desire for Bess. Was that completely true? she wondered. There were so many puzzles now. Their uncomplicated friendship had turned into a mental wrestling match.
She brushed her long hair and crawled into bed. But once she turned out the light, she could feel all over again the warmth of King’s lips on hers, his tongue pushing into her mouth in a kiss unlike any she’d ever experienced. She felt her face go hot as she remembered just how involved he’d gotten. And he’d accused her of throwing herself at him! Incredible, how much his sharp words had hurt. Of course, she’d been spared his temper for the past two years. She might never have seen it if he hadn’t made such a blatant pass at her in the first place. Men!
Well, her sexy nightie was still lying on his bed, she remembered; she hoped it gave him nightmares. She rolled over and closed her eyes, counting waves and praying for sleep. You can just hold your breath until I do you another favor, King Roper, she thought furiously.
CHAPTER FOUR
IN HER WILD and confusing dreams, Elissa felt King’s hands caressing her, molding her curves, teaching her new movements, new sensations. She could see his face taut with passion, feel the ripple of his muscles as he began a pagan rhythm with his body...
She sat up straight in bed, drenched with sweat and trembling from the effects of those sensuous and disturbing dreams. Her own reactions shocked her. Were all those years of suppressing her sensuality about to explode in her face? Last night her old fears of intimacy had dropped away, and she’d felt straightforward desire for the first time in her life.
It was the vodka, she thought stubbornly, trying desperately to get her delinquent emotions under control. After all, how could she forget that King had accused her of throwing herself at him?
“Sure I did,” she muttered as she went into the living room that overlooked the beach. “Sure I did. I forced him to hold me like that and kiss my...”
She swallowed, ignoring the instant hardening of her nipples. This was outrageous! Where was her pride?
She made herself a cup of coffee and opened a packaged pastry, nibbling at it halfheartedly as she began to scribble ideas for new designs on her big sketch pad. Unfortunately, nothing appealed to her. She stayed with her work for a few minutes and then gave up, walking out onto her small patio. Her long hair and wildly colorful caftan fluttered in the eternal breeze from the sea, and she let the sound of the surf soothe her as she gazed appreciatively at a big sailboat on the horizon.
Jamaica was the stuff of dreams, she mused. Pirate legends and fascinating people. Her eyes turned toward a distant hill, at the top of which the structure called Rose Hall perched. If legend was fact, its long-ago owner, Annie Palmer, whom the locals had dubbed the White Witch of Rose Hall, had murdered three husbands and several lovers there, in addition to practicing voodoo and brutalizing her slaves.
Once, after a tour of the spooky house, Elissa had had nightmares for days. One night, she recalled, she’d awakened screaming, and she’d heard a pounding at her door. King, his pajama bottoms peeking out above the waistband of his trousers testifying to his haste in rushing to her cottage, had, upon assessing that nothing was wrong, laughed at her indulgently and cradled her like a child. Even then, she reflected, sitting on the edge of her bed and holding her, he hadn’t seemed to notice her as a woman. There had been nothing remotely sexual about the comfort he’d given her. And yet now, after last night, it was impossible to think of him in a nonsexual way.
She stepped down onto the beach and saw that King’s car was gone. Where was he? she wondered briefly. Deciding it was really none of her business, she brushed back her hair and turned once again to watch the big sailboat in the distance wend its way seaward. Her cottage was too far off the beaten track for much contact with city life,