T is for Temptation (2 page)

“The officer said it was because they found cocaine on the premises, which is preposterous. I mean, cocaine of all things. Tony was a—”

She bit her lower lip and studied the asphalt road with a fierce concentration, and her flesh pinkened.

Everywhere.

Tonight, he promised himself, tonight.

Soaring hope and a building sexual fever drove his thoughts. Tony was a what? Did she know how despicable her husband had been? The disgust in her tone didn’t portray a woman grieving. No, it pointed to a betrayed wife.

“Those cops are coming our way.” He cupped her elbow and urged her in the opposite direction. “I have my rental car with me. Let’s get out of here. I’d prefer to speak with my lawyers first if the cops are going to interrogate us. And I definitely don’t want them taking you into custody.”

She glanced around his shoulder at the line of uniformed men bearing their way.

“Dad’s lawyer did say I should leave immediately, and I have to get those damned crystal holders. You’re right. We should go.”

Within the space of a couple of minutes, Jake edged the car onto the roadway, but the snarling, perpetual
Port of Spain
traffic made their getaway more of a creeping escape. In the rearview mirror, he kept an eye on the cops, and the tension in his neck seeped away when they made no attempt at following them.

During the course of doing business in the
Caribbean
over the last few months, he’d heard endless horror tales of illegal detentions and powerless embassies. He had enough trouble with Tony’s embezzlement charges in
Florida
, the last thing he wanted to contend with– was drug charges in
Trinidad
. He added another possible crime to his dead partner’s slate, drug trafficking, and wondered anew at his own gullibility.

“Jake?”

He swept a glance at her, and the sweet entreaty in those liquid pools of honey arrested his mind and put another impudent organ in charge. Steady, settle down, he urged his prick.

“Tee?” he replied, his brain searching for a secluded, intimate location they could be together, maybe have lunch.

“Would you mind taking me for the hibiscus crystal holders? The police said it would be two days at the earliest before they’d let anyone in the office, so you won’t be able to work anyway.”

Her telltale nervous habit of touching the tip of her delicate pink tongue to the left corner of her mouth distracted him, and memories of their kiss kept all logical thought hostage. He’d have agreed to anything at that moment.

“Sure.”

His cock thanked her with jerks and twitches, and Jake shifted in the car seat, adjusting.

“Which way are we headed?”

“To the yacht club. It’s at the western tip of the island. You know how to get to the Foreshore Highway. Just head in that direction, and we’ll end up there.”

Flicking on the left indicator to follow her directions, he said, “Now, explain to me what we’re retrieving and why.”

“It’s my mother. When Tricia entertains, everything has to be perfect. It’s her damned finishing school training.”

“I seem to remember her saying you followed in her footsteps?”

Jake grinned at her rueful expression, so entranced by the curve of her cheek and the long, tanned legs displayed by her short dress, that a wash of unrestrained sentimentality tempered by a powerful lust, threatened his normal discipline. He ordered his prick to behave, hang for an hour or two, and kept his eyes fixed on the road.

“Tricia would boast about that. Well, she went because she wanted to. I went because it was the only way she’d agree to let me go to equestrian college in
Vermont
.”

He loved the endearing way she crinkled her nose, and he relaxed, content to listen to the sound of Tee’s melodious voice, with that clipped little British edge, and enjoy her company.

“I don’t suppose you know this, and I’m certain it’ll bore you to Hades, but hibiscus flowers close at night. The only way to make them stay open is to pick them early in the morning while they’re in full bloom. Then you put them into a sealed bag in the fridge until after dusk. The crystal containers Tricia wants have a bulb at the tip for water. Just before her guests arrive, she’ll set the flowers into the chilled hibiscus holders and scatter them on her formal dining table. Most foreigners don’t know this technique, and it’s my mother’s best kept secret for impressive entertaining. She likes to hear her audience ooh and aah.”

Their worlds stood more than hemispheres, even polar poles, apart, and her resigned explanation emphasized the yawning gap between them. Jake, the product of an upstate
New York
orphanage run by retired Catholic priests, and Tee, the daughter of aristocratic British parents whose lineage traced to William the Conqueror.

“I see,” he said, unimpressed. “I’ve heard some of the men at the Union Club talk about
down the islands
. What does the term mean?
Trinidad
is, after all, an island. Does it refer to the sister isle,
Tobago
?”

They passed the impressive national sports stadium; it put any regular
US
sports arena to shame. Trinidad, referred to as the Hong Kong of the Caribbean, invested its surplus oil revenues in structures designed to impress the rest of the world, and its national team had made it to the World Cup soccer finals, a feat both envied and celebrated by the rest of the islands making up the archipelago.

The inside of the vehicle cooled, and Jake stabbed a button to set the current temperature. Inside a cool seventy degrees, the outside digital readout glowed ninety-two.

“Not at all.
Trinidad
was once part of
South America
, actually part of
Venezuela
. Most experts think a plate shift caused it to break off from the continent. When that happened several small islands formed between the two countries, and that’s what we call Down the Islands,” she said, her fingers forming quotation marks around the phrase. “Um, some families have homes on the islands. Vacation homes.”

A rosy hue warmed her skin, and she averted her eyes. Jake interpreted her silence to mean members of the old-moneyed upper class of
Trinidad and Tobago
owned these vacation homes. No plebes in this neighborhood.

“It’s actually wonderful. I spent most of my childhood either on a boat or a horse. Being down the islands is like having your own tropical paradise. Dad and I used to go down every Saturday and fish, either trolling for deepwater big catch or banking for smaller snapper. Fishing is so relaxing.”

Total shock had his foot tapping on the brake, and the car jerked in response. The last activity he ever imagined Tee enjoying and participating in was fishing. It didn’t go with his image of her, a vulnerable feminine puzzle, always dressed to perfection, managing to captivate and charm in a delicate way.

“You fish?”

“Yep,” she said, and genuine pleasure at his shock glistened from those wonderful eyes with their golden shimmer.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and he strained to contain the delight the sheer sight of her impishness wrought.

“I much prefer deep water, though. I like a good fight.”

He couldn’t prevent the words. “I know you’re an expert equestrian, but fishing?”

“I can clean, gut, and scale a fish faster than anyone I know.”

His eyes flew to her, and the picture her words painted surprised a chortle out of him.

“Shocked you there, didn’t I?”

A little devil lit her face, and she scrunched her nose.

“Unlike the image my family likes to present of me, I’ve been riding since I was six and began taking care of my own horses by myself”—she emphasized the last two words—“since I was ten. I de-tick manes, ears, and parts of a stallion most people would rather not mention. I learned how to shoe a horse before I was a teenager. I am not a simpering female, even if I did go to damned finishing school.”

She folded her arms under those luscious breasts and glowered at him.

He held up a hand. “Hey, have I said a word?”

“Oh, please. You should have seen the look on your face. Fishing and de-ticking were the last activities you ever thought me capable of.”

“Tee, I like you exactly the way you are, de-ticking and all,” he said, smiling like an adolescent teenager thrilled to have his biggest crush opening up to him.

Her reaction set his heart into a wild staccato and his prick into a happy stretching. She blushed, ducked her chin, and peeped up at him, those saucer big browns entrancing and wide with shy innocence.

“Oh.” Color skittered across her skin, and she twiddled her thumbs, one circling the other.

Silence fell.

He shot her quick surreptitious cuts, wondering what troubled her, as the miles flew past and the road hugged a ragged coastline. The quiet lengthened, broken only by the hum of the radio playing steel band music and the odd calypso.

A pensive shadow accentuated the bleak, taut line of her mouth, as if self-disgust haunted her thoughts. The urge to hold and comfort threatened to overwhelm his good intentions, and he sought refuge in banal conversation.

“I’ve never been to this part of the island.”

She jerked her gaze away from the lush, forested landscape on the passenger side.

“This used to be an American military base. Over there is the old headquarters, and opposite it is a helicopter pad. During the Second World War,
Trinidad
became an important refueling location for submarines. Since the island’s never been hit by a hurricane, it was also a safe harbor for warships.”

“I didn’t know that. I always think of
Trinidad
as British.”

“It is, or was, British for a long time.
Columbus
discovered it and claimed it for
Spain
, of course, in 1498. He saw the three mountain ranges from the sea and called it La Trinitaria, for the Trinity.”

“You’re very proud of the island, aren’t you?”

“Yes and no. There’s an underside to
Trinidad
society you haven’t seen, and it’s not pretty.”

She pointed to the right.

“Turn here, Jake. This is it.” She added, “Am I wrong, or weren’t you supposed to come in on Wednesday?”

“You’re right,” he said. “I had a few cancellations and decided to come earlier. Is my timing inconvenient?”

“Of course not. I don’t have your hectic schedule.”

“Why do you say it like that?” he asked, surprised by the intent, self-directed scorn in her voice.

“Nothing.” She gestured to the left. “Pull in over there. I haven’t been here in ages.”

“Why not?”

Her lips flattened, and she shrugged.

He clued in.

“Is this where Tony kept his racing boat?”

She snorted. “It was usually in the water. He kept it at the family home on the island.”

Turning the vehicle into a wooden stall with a galvanized roof, Jake kept his foot on the accelerator until the SUV’s front bumper paralleled a metal railing. He switched off the engine. Tee had the car door open before he could turn his head, and she hopped out and stuck her head through the narrow opening.

“The club house is down that path,” she said, pointing at a crazy-angled, geometric structure fronted by a long, curved pier. “Why don’t you change into shorts and sneakers if you have any?” Her eyes angled at his feet. “Oh, you’re wearing Timberlands. Those will do fine. I’ll get the boat into the water.”