She could feel the heat suffuse her face. "Of course I eat," she answered with disgust. "It's just that ... I mean you've already done so much that ..." She waved her hand helplessly, then noticed what he was doing. Relieved to have something to do she took her suitcase and started for the stairway. "I'm already indebted to you for letting me stay here. I don't want to take up your time as well."

  She came back down the stairs to find Clay leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his broad chest. "I see ... I think," he murmured, wondering at her heightened color.

  Where was her dignity, her calm demeanor when she needed it? Having never been in such a position, she had no experience to draw on. She gave him a tentative smile as she stood by her second suitcase. "I think it would be better if we each went our own way. I don't want to impinge on your freedom."

  He grinned. "Oh, now I understand. You don't want me to cramp your style."

  "No! I mean, that's not what I mean. You're deliberately trying to misunderstand me."

  "All right," he said hastily, his hand up in a gesture of peace. "We'll lead separate lives and our only point of contact will be the shared space. Is that what you want?"

  She nodded vigorously. "Yes. I think that will work out best."

  He shrugged as he moved away from the wall. "Fine with me." He stopped as he opened the door. "Make yourself at home. In this case, I suppose the Spanish proverb is appropriate: My house is your house."

  He closed the door quietly behind him.

  Chapter 2

  The Tropicana Royale fulfilled Carolyn's fantasies in a most delightful manner. It provided more facilities for its guests than she'd imagined. In addition to both an indoor and an outdoor swimming pool, there were indoor and outdoor tennis courts, racquet ball courts, an eighteen-hole golf course, as well as a miniature golf course, and enough shops to fill a good-sized mall.

  During her first week there she learned how to spend her time in a leisurely and thoroughly pleasurable manner. As she indulged in her favorite past-time, soaking in the oversized tub, Carolyn reviewed the previous seven days.

  When she had awakened on the first morning, she had been very nervous about facing Clay. She needn't have bothered. After dressing, she had tiptoed downstairs, uncomfortable about sharing the quarters with a stranger, and a male at that, but she quickly discovered she had nothing to worry about. He wasn't there. She went jogging on the beach that first morning, which set up a routine of sorts for the subsequent mornings, but he wasn't in the room when she returned.

  When she happened to see him at the swimming pool that afternoon she had offered a tentative smile, but he only nodded and continued to talk to the couple seated beside him alongside the pool.

  However, she managed to meet several very nice people as she quickly became absorbed into the festival feeling of the sprawling resort.

  Her friends had been right. She'd devoted enough years to getting established in business. Now she needed to learn how to have fun. Her vacation was the first step.

  Carolyn was unsure of herself around men. She hadn't known very many in her twenty-three years. She barely remembered her father, an Air Force pilot whose plane had gone down in Southeast Asia when she was a child. Her mother had never remarried, appearing to be content with her life with Carolyn. After college, Carolyn had stayed busy building her business and spending her spare time with Mitch.

  Not any more, she thought to herself as she slid her foot along the rim of the tub and the silky water beaded on her shapely leg. Her friends had given her stacks of magazines and books on how to be attractive to a man, how to be glamorous—seductive— alluring—in short, how to become a modern woman. She had dutifully studied them all. She grinned as she recalled some of her experiences during the past week. It had been amazingly simple to smile, then drop her eyes and wait for a response. She'd had several opportunities to pursue a friendship with attractive men. By following the simple instructions in some of the articles, she discovered she could attract most of the men she met. Her purpose for coming to the coast was not to write just a new chapter in her life. She intended to start a new book.

  So why hadn't Clay shown any interest in her? Whenever they happened to meet at their room, he treated her like his kid sister. Or worse. He treated her more like his maiden aunt. She couldn't understand it.

  Not that it really mattered, but she was curious. Maybe he didn't care for brunettes. Or maybe he preferred tall women. She shifted in the tub, disturbed by her thoughts.

  None of the other men she'd met really appealed to her. She had a secret fantasy male, one she'd never mentioned to another soul. He was prominently displayed in national cigarette ads—tall, with bedroom eyes and a smile that suggested untold delights if she only dared to accept his unspoken invitation. Would she ever find someone like that?

  Clay's face reappeared in her mind and she abruptly sat up, causing a gentle wave action. Why did she have to keep thinking about him? She began to rinse the soap from her body.

  She hardly ever saw him. For all the use he got out of his room, he could have rented a broom closet! When she did see him, he practically ignored her.

  What would Pam and Susie think if they knew I was living with a man on my vacation? Her friends would certainly think she'd taken all of their advice and had overcome her shyness around the male of the species. Perhaps it was just as well they didn't know. How could she explain that she'd shared a room with Clay for a week and still knew next to nothing about him? Pam would already have discovered the contents of his investment portfolio by now, not to mention his complete financial picture, while Susie would have learned all about his favorite foods, music, taste in women and his views on politics and religion.

  Carolyn sighed.

  One afternoon she'd spotted him on the beach with two young boys. All three were engrossed in watching a three-tiered kite fight to stay up in the brisk wind. The grins on the three faces were identical. She wondered if discovering that he likes to fly kites would have impressed Susie. Somehow she doubted it.

  By the time Carolyn finally crawled out of the tub, the water was cold and she felt like a prune. Why was she wasting so much time thinking about Clay when she had the evening ahead of her?

  Tonight was the night she'd decided to take the plunge and wear her new red dress. She was thoroughly enjoying her brand-new wardrobe, chosen with the help of her friends. They'd helped her to change her image with a new hairdo, new makeup and a new personality. She was indeed a new Carolyn—freer and more adventuresome. The red dress made that statement. As if the color weren't enough of an attention-getter, the styling was also dramatic. The scoop neckline was demure enough, as were the flowing sleeves which fastened daintily at her wrists. However, the dress had no back, which was one of the reasons she'd put off wearing it until tonight. She would have to go without a bra. But the last few days had given her the necessary confidence to become a part of the relaxed vacation crowd. She hoped.

  After a final inspection before the mirror, Carolyn started down the stairs. She was sure everyone could tell that she was naked beneath her dress, even before they saw her back. Funny, she'd never noticed whether other women were wearing a bra or not. You're just self-conscious. No one else will even notice. She fought the urge to casually cross her arms across her chest. Instead, she tilted her chin slightly and stepped outside the room. Come on, Carolyn, you can do it. Remember, Pam and Susie are counting on you. You've got to have some good tales to share with them by the time you return home.

  She smiled as she entered the room and a few people she'd met waved or nodded. She took a deep breath, then forced herself to relax.

  Dinner was delicious and the music superb, but for some reason Carolyn found it difficult to relax. Part of her problem was Clay. She'd been in the lounge for about an hour when he walked in. It was the first time she'd seen him in the evening, and she almost didn't recognize him.

  His suede jacket, almost the same shade of gold as his hair and beard, set off the tan he wore so well. Chocolate brown dress slacks, apparently custom made, were complemented by his Italian shoes. No moccasins for him tonight.

  So he knows how to dress, she thought with a shrug. As though she were a tailor mentally taking his measurements she studied the way his clothes hugged his flat waist and slim hips.

  He glanced around the room, pausing as he saw her. She smiled, then could feel the heat surge into her cheeks as his gaze dipped to her chest. He was over twenty feet away and could not possibly know that she was bare to the waist under her dress. Or could he? Once again she resisted the impulse to cover her breasts.

  She discovered that she was holding her breath, and only let go when his gaze continued around the room. She wasn't sure whether she felt relief or disappointment when he zeroed in on a table of four women. They made no effort to hide their delight when he went over to their table.

  Carolyn watched as unobtrusively as possible while Clay took turns dancing with each of them, even the one slightly taller than he. Whatever he was murmuring into her ear seemed to be highly entertaining.

  Not that Carolyn sat out too many dances, herself. She'd made several acquaintances during the previous week, although she noticed that a few had already moved on to friendlier females. She couldn't summon any feeling but relief. // / were honest, I'd admit that I don't know what to do when their hands keep moving around when we're dancing. I feel like a fool reprimanding them when it doesn't seem to bother any of the other women.

  Carolyn had almost decided to call it an evening and return to their room when she heard a deep, velvety voice behind her. "May I have this dance?"

  Glancing around, she took back all the bad thoughts she'd been having. He stood at least six feet tall, his hair the color of midnight, his eyes—what she could see of them in the soft glow of the lamp—almost silver. She'd known that if she were patient, she would find her fantasy male. Instead, it looked as though he'd found her.

  She glanced up at him in her most provocative manner. "Yes, thank you." He took her hand and ushered her to the dance floor where she was just in time to see Clay lead yet another woman, this time a redhead, to the floor. When he saw her watching him, he winked. She turned and moved into the arms of her tall, dark stranger.

  "You're a very good dancer," he murmured into her ear.

  She smiled. "I was thinking the same thing about you," she admitted.

  "I was sitting over at the bar, when your dress caught my eye." He pulled back slightly, so that he could meet her gaze. "You are very beautiful."

  He must have studied my script. He's just as I imagined he'd be. For a moment her mind went blank. She couldn't think how to respond. She wished she'd spent more time on that article that gave examples of sparkling dialog. Maybe it'd be a good idea if she clipped some of the suggestions out and kept them in her purse as reminders.

  "My name's Ted. What's yours?"

  "Carolyn."

  "Carolyn. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Where are you from, Carolyn?"

  She paused. Did she really want to tell him her life story during their first dance? She didn't know how to get out of answering that question, but maybe she should try to take charge of the conversation. She tilted her head slightly, glancing up at him through her lashes. "I'm from Portland. And you?"

  "Oh, I'm from Bend, just across the Cascade Mountain range from you. I travel to Portland every once in a while."

  "Oh?"

  "Yes. I'm a dentist, and up until a couple of years ago I helped teach at the dental school in Portland." He pulled her close to him, his hands gently stroking her bare back.

  He walked her to her table when the dance was over. "Would you mind if I join you?"

  "Not at all." Her heart was bouncing in her chest so much she was sure he could see the movement.

  The hours flew by as they got acquainted. They were amazed to discover the number of things they had in common.

  "Since you enjoy playing tennis, why don't I reserve a court in the morning?" he asked with a lopsided grin that affected Carolyn's concentration.

  She tried hard to control her eagerness. "Why not? What time shall we meet?"

  "How about ten o'clock?"

  "That sounds fine." Afraid of continuing to play the relaxed, carefree woman on vacation much longer, for fear of blurting out something that would convince him of her naivete, Carolyn decided to excuse herself, but assured him she was looking forward to seeing him the next day.

  She returned to her room without once touching the ground.

  ❧

  Carolyn's first thoughts the next morning were of Ted. Bounding from the bed, she eagerly headed for the bathroom. It's nice to finally meet a man so obviously interested in me as a person, she thought as she stood under the cascading shower. She'd grown accustomed to being taken for granted by Mitch, the professional student. He was going to make it big someday, after he finished first one course, then another, or changed his major.

  Carolyn remembered those years in college when she'd listened and believed. Then when she'd graduated, she took the trust income from her father's estate and leased space in one of Portland's suburban malls. Her gift shop specialized in items representative of Oregon. In little over two years she'd managed to make a healthy profit, while Mitch continued to go to school. After a year and a half of law school he'd suddenly decided he'd rather be a doctor, so he'd switched to pre-med, which meant several more years of training.

  She shook her head, disgusted that it had taken her so long to wake up to the futility of the lukewarm relationship. Mitch would have been agreeable to their marrying while she supported them, but Carolyn knew she wasn't ready for that much women's liberation.

  I wonder what Clay does for a living? The question appeared out of nowhere, and even while she donned her scarlet running pants and zippered top, she couldn't rid herself of the question. He has to have money to stay in a place like this. Or does he? Suppose he comes for the express purpose of finding someone with money? He comes each summer, according to the manager. Maybe he's bombed out, but keeps trying, year after year. She remembered the sweatshirt with distaste, but then recalled the way he'd looked the night before. Maybe that was his gigolo uniform, she decided with a muffled chuckle. For shame. Here he was nice enough to share his fantastic lodging with you and you have all these hateful thoughts about him.

  Her dark eyes danced as she brushed her teeth. She had a feeling that he couldn't care less what her opinion of him was. He had certainly done a great job of ignoring her the night before, except for that appraising stare and impudent wink. It wasn't as though they didn't know each other.

  Maybe he doesn't find me attractive. She was surprised to discover how that possibility disturbed her. With determination she forced her thoughts to Ted and was immediately cheered.

  She trotted down the stairs, smelling coffee as she arrived at the bottom. That was unusual. She glanced at the sofa, but found it made up. She wondered if he ever slept in it. Maybe one of the reasons he was so willing to share his suite was that he generally spent his nights with whomever he happened to meet.

  Stop that!

  How would you feel if he were speculating about your morals like that? You should be ashamed of yourself!

  Carolyn sat down at the tiny kitchen bar and poured herself a cup of coffee. He must have been here to have made coffee, she thought as she lifted the cup to her mouth. Glancing out the glass wall, she was reminded of a horror movie she once saw entitled The Fog. A thick, impenetrable mist swirled on the other side of the glass, and she gave an unconscious shiver of remembrance. It had been a very frightening movie.

  She took another sip of the coffee and had just replaced her cup on the counter when the sound of the sliding glass door caused her to turn her head. She gave a bloodcurdling shriek. A hulking monster stepped out of the fog into the room, his skin glistening, his long flipperlike feet slapping against the plush rug.

  Then Clay peeled off the headpiece of his arctic wetsuit and looked at her with disgust. "A simple good morning would have been sufficient."

  Carolyn's heart was still lodged in her throat. She had no idea where she'd found the lung power to scream. She finally managed to whisper, "You scared me," as he sat down and began to pull off his flippers.

  "Was that what that was? I thought you were practicing scaring the whales from this stretch of the beach."

  "Very funny." This time she used both hands to pick up her cup, despising the faint trembling in her hands.

  "Is there any coffee left?"

  Without a word, she poured him some. Glancing around, she received another shock. He was sitting in the chair peeling off his clothes right in front of her! In frozen fascination she took in the broad chest and the heavy muscles that filled out his arms and shoulders. "Do you lift weights?"

  He stepped out of the wetsuit and stood there in a micromini swimsuit that Carolyn found obscene. "Now and then. I used to wrestle. Why?"

  Keeping her eyes carefully averted, she shrugged her shoulders. "I just wondered." He walked over and picked up the coffee mug. "Would you mind putting on some clothes?" she demanded.

  He looked at her in surprise. "I have on some clothes. You act as though you've never seen a man in a swimsuit before."

  "I've never seen anything that size described as a swimsuit!"

  Clay grinned as he saw the flush on her face. So Ms. Sophisticated Swinger wasn't quite as experienced as she liked everyone to believe. He discovered a distinct feeling of relief settle somewhere inside of him. From the way she'd been flirting with that flashy Romeo the night before, he'd half expected to find him in her bed that morning—which was the only reason he'd tiptoed up the stairway before he left to go scuba diving. He'd intended to tell her that it was one thing for him to offer her accommodations, but he'd be damned if he'd invite half the male population of the resort to sleep over!

  They sat side by side at the small kitchen bar, enjoying the first time they'd spent together since they'd met. Clay admitted to himself that that was mostly his fault. He'd had a surfeit of dazzling beauties hanging on his every word during the last several months. Much more of southern California and he would become quite cynical. He'd needed this break before continuing with the heavy schedule facing him during the next several weeks. He yearned for the late fall when he could return to Seattle and his first love, writing novels.

 

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