Gentle Pirate (16 page)

"A vineyard! Simon, you own a winery down in California?" she gasped, entranced. Several facts were falling into place now, she thought.

"A small one, honey. But it's growing. I guess I should tell you that I don't ever intend to let it get very big, because that would kill the uniqueness of the product. Therefore, we probably won't ever be particularly rich." He was watching her intently and whatever he saw in Kirsten's gray eyes must have satisfied him. "I had a feeling the first day I met you that you weren't cut out for the corporate world. Somehow, in my mind, I could visualize you perfectly helping with the harvest!"

"A nice, sturdy peasant type?" she suggested with a laugh and when he responded with his wolf's grin she suddenly decided that, whatever became of Simon's marriage plans for her, she was going to enjoy this weekend! There might be some very excellent reasons not to risk marriage with the man, but she felt unable to deny herself the excitement of his company in Seattle. The future would take care of itself.

Below them the agricultural lands rose into foothills that became the peaks of the Cascades. Off the wing of the craft Mount Rainier thrust some fourteen thousand feet into the clear sky, the glaciers that rimmed its sides glittering in the sunlight. At last the flat lands of eastern Washington had given way to the picture-postcard Washington. Majestic forests, fantastic skiing slopes, and tumbling rivers passed beneath the wings.

"Do you have any idea how many people accept jobs in Richland, sight unseen, thinking they're moving to a Washington that looks like this?" Kirsten smiled up at Simon at one point, indicating the panorama below. "One month shortly before you arrived, Silco had six different people accept an offer to take over the quality assurance department manager's position. All six declined the offer after they came to Richland!"

"The desert didn't drive you away," Simon noted.

"I couldn't afford to be choosy. Silco pays well and I needed the money. Still, I had just about made up my mind to start active job hunting over on the coast when you appeared on the scene."

"Was that why you acted like you couldn't care less if I had you fired?" he inquired silkily.

"That and my own natural perversity, I guess," she admitted ruefully.

"Not about to let any man think he could seriously affect your future emotionally?"

"Right!" she agreed with fervent cheerfulness. "Besides, I think I would be happier getting back into academic librarianship and out of the corporate side of life…" she concluded on a more musing note, thinking of how nice it would be to harvest grapes and make wine for the rest of her life.

"Did you expect to find lots of short, weak men on a university campus?" Simon inquired teasingly.

"You're never going to let me forget that I held your size against you, are you?"

"Never. In fact, I intend to use the disparity in our height and weight to my advantage," he informed her, domineering eyes gleaming through narrowed lids.

"Oh?" she retorted witheringly.

"Ummm. Whenever you get out of hand I shall simply pluck you up, tuck you under my arm, and cart you into the bedroom."

"Simon!" she flushed, horribly afraid the people in the seats ahead might have overheard.

"Yes, honey?" he drawled softly.

"Simon," she began again in a very low, very intense voice. "You do see marriage as a… a partnership, don't you? I mean I'm not saying I will marry you, but…"

"A partnership's important to you?" he asked speculatively, ignoring her last sentence as if it were irrelevant.

"Oh, yes! I couldn't abide being someone's
thing
again!" she managed huskily. Her eyes never left his face while she waited tensely to see if he understood.

"You would never, ever be my
thing
," he whispered back in an equally intense tone. "But you
will
be my woman. Do you understand the difference?" The probing eyes trapped hers in a steel grip. The man could be steel all over, Kirsten thought. His eyes, his hand…

"I think you might be inclined to assume too many rights!" she began heartily, trying to gauge his temper. "The things you said to Phil this morning, for example. Why did you have to act so possessive? He certainly wasn't trying to seduce me!"

"No? There are a variety of approaches when it comes to seduction, Kirsten." Simon's voice had taken on that aloof, instructing tone he could use so effectively at work. She felt her hackles rise. And just five minutes earlier she had been feeling so compliant!

"And you are the expert on the subject, I presume?" she shot back. "What approach did you use on Liz Wilford last night?" Kirsten knew the other woman had not gone home early willingly, regardless of what her initial intentions for the evening had been. She'd had a quick look at Liz's expression as Simon had put her into the front seat of the Mercedes.

"I crooked my little finger and she fell into my arms," he told her with supreme male satisfaction.

"Why, you…" Kirsten was forced to forgo her infuriated tirade as the pilot's voice came over the public address system, warning them to fasten their seathelts in preparation for landing. By the time she could make herself heard again, the moment was lost. She contented herself with a furious little glare and then forgot the argument as they settled in for a landing.

Seattle was living up to its reputation with soft drizzle and a heavy, gray, overcast sky. But no one seemed to mind. Simon took charge in his familiar, efficient way as soon as they landed. In a remarkably short period of time a car had been rented and they were on the freeway into town.

"Haven't you heard there's an energy crisis on?" Kirsten asked, surveying the inside of the large vehicle Simon had chosen.

"In my case it comes down to a choice between respecting the energy crisis or my personal space crisis," he grinned tolerantly, changing lanes expertly.

"Where shall we go first?" he asked twenty minutes later, checking them into a two-room suite in the tall, modern tower of a downtown hotel.

"How about a tour of the lobby," she suggested dryly, taking in her surroundings with awe. She was accustomed to a lesser breed of lodging. "I thought you said you didn't have all that much money."

"Silco is paying well and I figure we deserve it. Think of it as a sort of pre-honeymoon treat!"

"Simon!" Kirsten choked, whirling to confront him as he hooked her overnight bag and started toward the elevator. Either the bellhop had moved too slowly for Simon's liking or her fiance considered two small flight bags insufficient luggage to warrant acquiring the services of one. She found herself addressing his back, however, so gave up her scene in favor of gaining a place in the same elevator. Simon had given no sign of being willing to wait while she snarled at him in the elegant lobby. Nor could she say anything in the crowded elevator.

Once in their rooms, Kirsten was forced to put off the confrontation over Simon's implicit assumption due to the demands of the enchanting view stretching out below the windows. She would worry about which of the two rooms he planned to use later. To her right Elliott Bay with its crisscrossing ferries dominated the picture, the scene so attractive that she made her decision about where to start touring immediately.

"Let's head for the waterfront," she began excitedly. "We can walk to Pike Place Market from here, according to this map, and then down to the import shops on the piers…" She broke off. studying her map again. "And then we can amble on down to Pioneer Square…"

"That's a hell of a lot of ambling." Simon interrupted with a laugh, setting down their bags and crossing the thick carpet to stand beside her at the huge windows. "We could take the car."

"Too much trouble to park," Kirsten shook her head. "No, if we get tired we can try this free bus service," she added enthusiastically.

"All right, honey, on your head be it. I warn you, though, I don't intend to carry you in to dinner if your feet give out! Have you ever been to Seattle before?" he asked, watching her animated expression.

"No. I've been meaning to get over here, but this is the first chance I've had." Kirsten wisely decided not to mention Ben Williamson's offer. "I came from Oregon after Jim's death." She hesitated, wishing she hadn't brought up that subject either. "And there hasn't been much time to do any touring yet. Too busy settling into my new job and Richland."

Walking down to the elaborate fanners' market that had grown from a series of vegetable stalls into a rambling collection of shops, bakeries, fish stands, and cheese shops was easy. Kirsten forgot about the necessity of having to walk back up the hill in the flurry of shopping. They bought packets of aromatic spice tea, gazed longingly at rows of imported cheeses they knew would never survive the trip back to Richland, and dined on Middle Eastern fare. Through it all Simon rarely let go of her hand and she didn't bother to try and free herself.

"You know, you're a great asset in a crowd like this," Kirsten grinned at one point. "People simply make way for us when they see you coming!"

"A man of many talents," he agreed equably. "Made your decision on the fish yet?" They were examining the offerings of a fishmonger who guaranteed to be able to pack the fish safely enough to allow it to last forty-eight hours.

"Let's risk that gorgeous salmon," she nodded and was glad that Simon handled the purchase. The fishmonger's rough and ready attitude toward his customers somewhat intimidated her. Simon had no problems. Five minutes later they were on their way, a huge package of ice-packed fish under Simon's left arm.

"The instant this thing begins to smell I'm going to chuck it, Kirsten," he warned, laughing down at her.

"Nonsense." she replied bracingly. "The man guaranteed it would travel, didn't he?"

"And just how do you propose to collect on the guarantee once we're back in Richland?" he inquired, lifting one brow.

"I'll leave that to you," she told him airily, consulting her map. "Now, we take a right here and walk three blocks down to the dock area."

She had to hand it to her escort. Simon carried the huge box full of salmon through an endless stream of import shops without a single grumble. Kirsten was beginning to worry about the weight of the thing when he called her attention to the new marine aquarium that had opened on one of the piers.

Moments later, seated in an arena surrounding a huge pool, she realized why he had been seized with a strong interest in watching killer whales leap for their food. With a sigh of relief the salmon box was lowered and Simon leaned back to enjoy the show.

"Onward and upward," Kirsten announced resolutely as they left the aquarium and started back toward the downtown area. "We'll catch a bus to Pioneer Square," she added sympathetically, eyeing the salmon box.

"You're too kind," Simon smiled with mock gratitude. They toured the expensive little shops of the reconstructed historical section of Seattle, enjoying a glassblow-ing exhibition in the process and winding up in a pleasant bookshop. Kirsten was secretly pleased to discover Simon enjoyed browsing as much as she did.

"It's an occupational disease with a librarian," she explained.

"Book browsing? It's one of my favorite hobbies," he told her. She left him poring over volumes in the mystery section while she went in search of the science fiction.

Hours later they dragged themselves into the hotel, loaded with packages and shopping bags. Once in the room, Kirsten set down her burdens with a groan and kicked off her shoes.

"I feel like I've walked a marathon," she said, collapsing into a chair and studying her stockinged feet.

"I was the one carrying this damn salmon," Simon pointed out righteously, setting the box in a corner and coming over to sink into the chair opposite her.

"It will be worth it," she reassured him. "We'll have it baked with a good white burgundy…"

"Or a California Chardonnay? Yes, I think it will justify the effort. It's merely that, at the moment, I'm having a little trouble imagining the end product. That monster weighs fifteen pounds, you know!"

"A mere feather to you, surely?" she teased. "Not nearly as delightful a feather as you," he told her, getting to his feet and lifting her upright with a gentle hand around the back of her neck. His sensitive fingers played lightly with a few straggling wisps of hair that had loosened from the coil she had anchored earlier in the day with a clip.

"Do you lift all your women by the neck?" she inquired while his lips descended lazily to hers.

"Just you, kitten," he murmured and then kissed her. As before, the sensuous movement of his mouth on hers robbed Kirsten of anything but a desire to respond in kind. She wasn't even aware of her feet having left the floor until she felt the softness of the bedspread under her back. By then she was past caring. Her head was cradled against his left arm, the silver hook extending to one side. She felt Simon's hand at her throat in a gentle caressing movement and then it cupped her breast with a possessiveness that startled her at first. Then she relaxed, wanting the feel of his big, hard body against hers. Nothing else seemed at all important at the moment. She thrilled to the sound of his groan of desire, taking pleasure in the knowledge that she could arouse him as much as he did her.

Kirsten slipped one delicate hand inside his crisp white shirt even as she felt his fingers on the buttons of her blouse.

"Kirsten, honey, I want you so desperately," he muttered against her ear. "I need you, sweetheart!"

She didn't argue with him. Instead, she found herself pulling his tough strength even closer, telling him with her actions, if not with words, that she wanted him, also.

"You're mine, little one. I knew it from the first day!" The words were ground out in a low, intense whisper. "I swear I'm going to make you so aware of that fact, you'll be unable to even look at another man!"

Kirsten stirred beneath him, the import of his words sinking into her mind slowly. She wanted him, needed him, in a sense. But his possessiveness shook her. She remembered the way he had bundled Phil Hagood out the door much earlier in the day. Unbidden, the memory of his warnings against seeing Roger Townsend flooded her thoughts. She wanted Simon to want her but Kirsten knew she could not suffer the humiliation of feeling owned again. She wanted a partnership, she reminded herself desperately, withdrawing in Simon's arms ever so slightly.