Campaign for Love (21 page)

 

 

She offered her hand. "Deal, Mr. Pierce."

 

 

He took it, shook it, then leaned in to kiss her again. They broke
off
with a shaky sigh, and turned to look out the window as the pilot
made
a smooth landing.

 

 

Carrying their hand luggage off the plane, he headed to the carousel
with all their bags and the rest of the Femme Fatale group while she
and Candy went to freshen up, and then they found their bags and got
a
taxi to the hotel with Bruce as well as Candy.

 

 

Suzanna could feel her heart pounding in her chest as one by one the
Femme Fatal group were shown to their rooms.

 

 

She knew what they had agreed to on the plane, but the sultry hit of
the Bahamian weather seemed to set her on edge.

 

 

Soon she and Quentin were on their own in the corridor with the
porter.
Suzanna's room came first, and Quentin's was right next to hers. As
she
looked around, she saw that it had an adjoining door.

 

 

"Everything all right?" he asked, poking his head in to inspect it
and
make sure it passed muster.

 

 

"Yes, fine, thank you," she said, trying not to blush. "I'll see you
later."

 

 

"Yes, see you, my dear," he said with a warm smile. Then he shut the
door behind him, leaving her alone.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

 

The hotel room she had been led to was on the third floor. Suzy
decided
to pull back the floral drapes, and was rewarded a magnificent view
of
the harbor from her balcony. She slid open the glass doors, then
stepped out onto it to breathe in the fragrant night air.

 

 

But was getting late, and she was sure they would have a full day
tomorrow. She padded back inside and began to unpack, shaking the
wrinkles out of her clothes for the morning before hanging them up.
The
rest could wait until they reached the place they would be staying
for
most of their trip.

 

 

Next she got out her night clothes and toothbrush. One look at the
sumptuously appointed bathroom was enough to convince her that a
nice
hot bath as the perfect end to her day.

 

 

After the relaxing suds had taken away the stiffness of travel, she
rubbed herself dry with a fluffy towel and got into her mauve gown
and
peignoir.

 

 

The trouble was, she was restless and not at all sleepy. The nap on
the
plane had satisfied her need for sleep, at least temporarily.

 

 

She opened the sliding glass doors once more to let in the
refreshing
night breeze, and began to sniff the fragrant flowering vines which
grew on the balcony railing. She leaned forward over it, drinking in
the sights, sounds and smells of the balmy tropics. A vagrant breeze
molded her gown to her curves and ruffled her hair.

 

 

She heard a movement in the shrubbery separating her balcony from
Quentin's, and a familiar voice asked, "Couldn't you sleep either,
Suzanna?"

 

 

Instinctively, she moved toward the low barrier.

 

 

"It must be the thrill of really being in the Bahamas," she said. "I
even took a warm bath, but I'm still not sleepy."

 

 

Suzanna had turned off her overhead room light, and had no idea how
transparently revealing the moonlight and the low light from her
lamp
table was.

 

 

It was only when she heard his sudden in-drawn breath that she
realized
she might as well have been standing there naked.

 

 

"God, Suzanna," he breathed, "you're the most incredible woman I've
ever seen!"

 

 

Suzanna stood motionless in the dim light that concealed her flaming
cheeks, but not her rapid breathing, or the deep rise and fall of
her
breasts under the filmy material as she stood before him in her lace
and silk robe.

 

 

Her ragged breathing finally seemed to bring Quentin to his senses.

 

 

He stopped his hand midway before he did the unthinkable, and
summoning
all his strength, resisted the temptation to pull her into his own
room
and spread her on his bed as he had ached to for so long. Instead,
he
retreated back behind the safety of the box hedge that divided their
private terraces and heaved a ragged sigh.

 

 

"I seem to be apologizing to you all the time, Suzanna. I had no
right
to invade your privacy, or to ogle you. I couldn't blame you if you
despised me."

 

 

She laughed bitterly. "Am I really that unattractive, that you can't
bear to touch me? Just when I thought we were getting past all the
strain of working together and starting to become, well, friends?"

 

 

"No, of course you're not unattractive! What did I just say to you?
What were we just doing a moment ago? Surely that must tell you how
I
think of you."

 

 

"They stop talking, and just start feeling." With more bravado than
she
really felt, she opened the lacy robe and let it drop to the floor.
She
stood like a voluptuous nymph bathed in moonlight, her wide,
sensuous
mouth curved in an inviting smile. Summoning up all her courage, she
held out her arms to the man she ached for in a silent plea....

 

 

But when he made no move to touch her, and the seconds dragged on in
unbearable silence, she shot him a look that would have withered a
lesser man. Gathering together the few shreds of dignity she had
left,
she dropped her arms, squared her shoulders, and marched
straight-backed into her room. Once there, slid the door shut behind
her and locked it with a resounding click.

 

 

She flicked off the light quickly, and threw herself on the bed, her
mind reeling. She could not believe that she could have had the
audacity to act like that. But worse still, she couldn’t imagine
that
she had dared to come out of her shell far enough to offer him
everything that every other man in the world had ever dreamed of
from
her, and he had actually not only rejected her, but practically
thrown
it back in her face. He knew her darkest secrets, and yet he had
turned
her down without so much as a word of regret or apology.

 

 

From her darkened room, she could see Quentin clearly, standing as
if
rooted to the spot. Clearly he wasn't about to give in, and yet he
couldn't seem to tear himself away. Maybe it wasn't her after all.
Perhaps it really was him?

 

 

Considering this possibility for a moment as she tried to subdue the
tears that were nearly choking her, it all started to make much more
sense. She could almost hear his inner struggle with himself. He had
hired a plain girl for her brains, and almost immediately had become
physically attracted to her.

 

 

While he wrestled with his conscience as to whether or not to be the
first man in her life, right before his eyes she had turned into the
unbelievably sexy-looking glamor girl he couldn't quite trust.

 

 

She knew he wanted her. Probably ten years before, he'd have been on
her in a bound and been in her bed without a second thought, she
reflected. But a thirty-five year old man was different. He was more
cautious, and weighed all his options carefully.

 

 

She was still watching as he turned dejectedly and returned to his
room
and solitary bed.

 

 

She threw herself face down on the bed and wept with frustration,
and
gradually drifted off into a deep, emotionally exhausted sleep.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

 

 

The following morning, Suzanna awakened to a feeling of having
misbehaved very badly, and found it acutely embarrassing. She was
afraid she might have killed her chances with Quentin completely. He
probably wouldn't even look at her today, she had been so petulant
and
unreasonable because he had made her feel so rejected.

 

 

She knew it was now her turn to apologize. She tried to psych
herself
up by standing under an invigorating shower, and dressing with care.

 

 

Her fears were groundless, however, because as she was wording her
apology for the hundredth time, there was a light tap at her door,
and
she opened it to a Quentin who smiled at her as if nothing had ever
happened.

 

 

Before he had a chance to say anything other than good morning, she
said softly, "Quentin, it seems to be my turn to apologize. I'm so
sorry. I had no call to make your guilt trip any worse than it was."

 

 

"Sorry? Whatever for? Actually, it was the nicest thing that's ever
happened to me. Besides, when you're right, you're right. I had
missed
something."

 

 

"What was that?" she asked suspiciously

 

 

"That on top of everything else, your gorgeous hair is natural."

 

 

She gasped in dismay. "Quentin! You're outrageous!"

 

 

He quirked one dark eyebrow at her. "And you're just a sweet,
conventional, soul of modesty, I suppose?"

 

 

His voice was mock-serious, but there was no concealing the laughter
ready to burst forth.

 

 

"By the way, I just thought I should warn you, I'm turning in your
name
as a candidate for the Ms. Nude America contest. I am sure you would
win hands down. Or gown down."

 

 

With that, neither one of them could keep a straight face. They
collapsed into helpless laughter, as they had in past crises.

 

 

Quentin wheezed, "I must say, I never expected my first night in
Freeport to be so educational. No wonder Candy was impressed."

 

 

"Enough, enough, I get the point. I can see I'm never going to hear
the
end of this."

 

 

"Speaking of ends, yours was...."

 

 

She slapped him lightly on the forearm.

 

 

"It goes no further than this, I promise," he vowed, giving her a
light
peck on the cheek. "And now, if that's sorted, we'd better head out.
They're probably waiting for us in the restaurant, so we may as well
get started."

 

 

"Thanks for making it so easy for me. I'm afraid you're a much
kinder
person than I am."

 

 

"Are you kidding? How kind can you get? I'll bet there isn't a man
in
this hotel, with the possible exception of Bruce, who wouldn't have
considered your performance last night an act of kindness."

 

 

She groaned again. "I can see I am never going to live it down."

 

 

"Never is a long time. You'll live it down, but I'll never forget
it,"
he promised with a long look.

 

 

They had reached the entrance to the sunny white breakfast room and
asked for the Femme Fatale Cosmetic crew's table. A headwaiter led
them
to a pleasant table by a window where they were greeted by Candy,
Bruce, the wardrobe mistress named Helene Michaud, and two
cameramen,
Joe Bletcher for stills and Max Perkins for video. There were
introductions all around, and the waiter was standing by to take
their
order.

 

 

They both ordered a full breakfast to keep up their energy through
the
day, and ate heartily while they got to know each other better.

 

 

As soon as they had all finished eating, they re-packed their
belongings, checked out of the hotel, and amid much bantering, took
taxis the short distance to the jetty to get aboard the motor launch
for their short trip to Felix Morgan's private island.

 

 

As the launch sped across the sparkling blue-green water with the
morning sun glowing overhead, Suzanna felt a surge of exhilaration.
She
wished that she could be alone with Quentin. It was so stunning, it
could have been a romantic interlude, but instead it was like a big
family picnic. Spirits were high, and the cameramen were ecstatic
about
the quality of the light. The turquoise water turned to clear
emerald
as the boat pulled in closer to the shore. The air was full of the
perfume of a million flowers. Suzanna was sure she had never seen
anything so magical.

 

 

They tied up at a white, somewhat weather-beaten dock, and saw an
old
model, nondescript American car parked in a nearby lot. There was
also
a good sized SUV.

 

 

Two Bahamians came to help them from the launch, and to assist in
unloading the luggage and cameras. The luggage was put in the
vintage
car, while the cameras were carried to the SUV. They were piled in
the
luggage area at the back, while the crew, Suzy and Quentin started
to
climb inside.

 

 

Once they were all settled, they began to head away from the dock.
There was only one road, narrow, of coral rock and shell marl. In
less
than five minutes, they saw the beginning of the estate.

 

 

The servants' quarters came first, with the estate-house next, and
finally the guest house. The accommodations were luxurious to say
the
least. All the buildings were white stucco with red Spanish tile
roofs.
There were floor to ceiling casement windows all around to catch
every
available breeze. Everywhere, climbing the buildings, the walls and
even the trees were trumpet vines, flame vines, bougainvillea, and
passion flower.

 

 

There were flowered terraces, flagstone paths, and trees in
profusion-
arecas, ficus, ciumbo limbo, and more species of palms than Suzanna
could count. There were coconut, date, Christmas and cabbage.