Читать книгу Hot For It - Melissa MacNeal - Страница 8

When Cat caught a glimpse of the house, nestled high among flowering bushes and palm trees, she fell in love. Had to have the place, without even seeing inside. Its flamingo paint, trimmed in bright white with flourishes of Victorian millwork, made her heart sing. Never in her wildest imagination could she have conjured up such a fabulous home!

She sat forward, gawking through the windshield as they rounded the curve in the driveway. “Oh, Ramon, it’s so beautiful! So different from anywhere I’ve ever lived—”

“Not so fast, Miss Gamble,” he warned, although he was chuckling at her little-girl exuberance. “Best for all of us if you make an informed decision. For you see, Leilani and I are part of the package.” His dark face remained utterly serious as he steered the Caddie into the garage at the rear of the house.

“How does that work?” she ventured. “I can’t imagine being considered part of the property—like furniture or—”

“It was Miss Borgia’s way of taking care of us, in appreciation for our years of service to her. Anyone who buys Porto Di Angelo must love my wife and me—and need us—as much as we do him or her. This is our home, you see.”

“And what a wonderful home it is.” Cat barely had the patience to wait for Ramon to open her door. From a white brick wing wall that extended behind the garage, she had a breathtaking view of the sea…areas of deep morning-glory blue accented by turquoise and green…waves breaking like lacy petticoats against a white sand shore…gulls circling lazily on the breeze that ruffled the leaves of the trees. A rainbow of tropical blossoms welcomed her with their heady scents, inviting her into the back patio area.

Was she really here? Could this estate really be hers? She inhaled deeply, reminding herself to be practical…to compare what she’d seen and heard with what Ramon and his wife told her.

“Wow, the flowers here pack a punch,” she remarked. Maybe she was jet-lagged, but the scent was reminiscent of marijuana smoke.

Ramon smiled, gesturing toward the hillsides covered with trees that had long bell-shaped white blooms. “Wait until this evening! These angel’s trumpet trees perfume the entire island with their musk. We have to be on our guard, though, because the leaves and blooms can be smoked as an asthma remedy…or as a narcotic. Which sometimes attracts uninvited guests.”

More pieces to this puzzle; more things to consider before she became Porto Di Angelo’s owner. Could she really handle these details without getting taken advantage of? Who should she believe?

“How have you maintained the property so perfectly, if the Contessa has been absent nearly two years?” she asked, recalling the plane steward’s story. “Where does the money come from to—”

“She has accounts in St. Lucia banks, as well as numerous trusts worldwide, which are managed by her attorney,” Ramon answered. He stood so close his sleeve brushed her arm. “Leilani and I are provided for in perpetuity, as is the estate.”

Cat pondered this, inhaling the brisk, clean scent of the sea and feeling more invigorated—more alive—than she had in years. “So you’re saying you and your wife could remain here forever, taken care of, whether or not you sell the place? Why allow someone to intrude on your little slice of paradise?”

Ramon leaned on the white railing, so his smile was mere inches from her own. His eyes held her in a momentary trance in which she imagined all manner of wild, erotic things he wanted to do to her—before she blinked to clear that fantasy from her mind.

“My Leilani and I were born to serve,” he murmured. “Porto Di Angelo needs a mistress—or master—to belong to, just as we do, if our life’s purpose is to be fulfilled.”

Cat saw not a hint of a mockery on his long, angular face. This man, dressed like a Fortune 500 CEO yet possessing the exotic mystique of these islands, was telling her he would serve…a concept so foreign to her, after being married to Laird King, that she had to mask her disbelief.

“Ah, but your mind is weary from your journey, and we speak of matters that can certainly wait, dear lady,” he crooned, gesturing toward a staircase painted in bright white enamel. “Leilani has prepared tea—a custom Valenzia observed with us every afternoon, no matter what her schedule.”

“And what sort of schedule did she have?” Cat mused aloud. “I don’t mean to sound presumptuous, implying she led a life of leisure, but—” She stopped at the top of the stairs inside an open porch overlooking that magnificent beach and sea. “—Well, if I lived here, I’d be thoroughly tempted to just move from one vantage point to another, gazing out over the sand and the surf—”

“And write no more of those wild, exciting stories?” a female voice challenged. “The world would be a sadder, less sensuous place without Catalina Gamble romances. You’ve given Ramon and me many hours of pleasure! I feel absolutely giddy, getting to meet you right here in our home!”

Who could argue with that? Or with the lush, petite beauty who stood beside a colorfully set wicker table beaming at her?

“My wife, Leilani,” Ramon said, extending his hand grandly.

As though drawn by some inner magnet, Cat closed the distance between them to clasp the woman’s outstretched hands. Why did she feel she was coming home? What sort of magic did this couple practice, that drew her in before she pondered or analyzed her decision to buy this island? Leilani’s ebony waves flowed past her shoulders, and the bright pink lily tucked at her ear matched the pattern of her simple dress. Her full lips and wide-set eyes captivated Cat, as did her richly tanned skin.

“Leilani, it’s such a pleasure to—”

“The pleasure is mine, Catalina,” the woman purred. “The Contessa wishes she were here to enjoy this historic moment, I can assure you! She used to read your books aloud to us in the evenings, as the rum punch took up where the sunset left off.”

“My stories probably sounded much more inspired when you were sipping that punch,” Cat said with a laugh. “But what a compliment! There’s nothing so wonderful as hearing that people have enjoyed my books.”

“And another will be out soon, I hope?” Leilani pulled out one of the three cushioned chairs at the table for her.

“Easier wished for than done, I’m afraid.” People who weren’t in publishing never really understood how things worked for writers, but perhaps this intuitive woman would get most of it. “My last two books didn’t sell well—never mind that they were eclipsed by the September Eleventh disaster and an unforeseen distribution crisis. So my contract got canceled.”

Leilani’s lovely face fell in sympathy—and disdain. “What fools, to dismiss your talent! I hope that hasn’t discouraged you from writing, dear.”

“I’m working on another story. A pirate romance,” Cat replied. Her voice rose with new hope—a sense that she could succeed again! “I found this fabulous island while I was researching—”

“No, Miss Gamble. Porto Di Angelo found you.”

Her hostess pronounced this with the unflinching certainty of one attuned to higher realms. “We placed our ad again,” she explained, “sensing the time was right to find a new mistress. While we knew this person would never replace Miss Borgia, she will take up where the Contessa left off…will bring a focus—a sense of direction—to the island again.”

Leilani placed her hands on Cat’s then, her smile mystical yet sly. “You might as well say yes, Catalina. I knew the moment you contacted us that we’d finally found the right earth angel for the job.”

Was it the way Leilani used her full name that captivated her? Or the way this woman’s eyes glowed a light, luminous blue in her deep olive face, framed by that cascade of sable waves? The bright pink lily at her temple drew Cat’s attention to an ageless face that radiated serenity and a sense of purpose.

And when Ramon sat down beside his wife, smiling deeply at her, Cat understood implicitly that she could have her hot, edgy fantasies about this man, but hopping into bed with him was not an option.

And that was fine! What a pair they made, he in his high-powered pinstriped suit and she wrapped in a graceful pink sari that draped her shapely curves. The fabric whispered seductively with each move she made pouring tea and passing Cat trays of sliced fruits, crustless sandwiches, and tiny glazed petit fours.

Cat’s mouth dropped open and she couldn’t choose. The Fiesta dishes and tropical fruit made such a colorful presentation, it looked like they were throwing her a party! “Maybe it’s jet lag or those stale pretzels on the flight,” she murmured, “but I’m suddenly hungry within an inch of my life.”

When Leilani laughed, her glimmering eyes urged Cat to really help herself to everything she wanted. Well, everything but Ramon, maybe.

“You’ve heard this before, but your blue eyes are such a…a novelty on someone with your tropical complexion.”

Her hostess smiled proudly. “My father was an Englishman and my mother from Polynesia. Ramon insists I got the best of both their features, even though he never met them. You’ve no doubt discovered what a romantic side he has.”

Cat paused with a small sandwich in front of her open mouth. How was she to answer that? “He—he had a very courtly air as he chauffeured me here, yes. Gallantry is hard to come by these days.”

“It is.” Leilani watched Cat’s eyes for ulterior responses…secrets, perhaps. “I’m sure you understand why I’m a very…possessive wife. He’s the only man on the island, and he’s mine—to share as I see fit.”

“As he should be.” Cat nodded briskly, choosing more fruit and sandwiches. “Believe me, Leilani, after what I went through following my husband’s death and the nasty surprises that came after, it’ll be a while before I want to—”

“No, it won’t. You’re hot for it, same as any healthy, attractive woman.” Leilani’s smile broke through the wariness of their conversation. “I predict you’ll attract a man in less than a week, Catalina. We may be isolated here, surrounded by the sea, but I feel your vibrations already beaming out.”

“Like radar? Or sonar the dolphins communicate with?” It occurred to her then that Spike had been keeping his distance—or at least keeping his smoke to himself. Maybe he had some manners, after all. Or maybe he was already on his mission to find her a man.

Taking her hand, Leilani pointed over the porch railing. “Just like those dolphins frolicking in the surf, yes. They send out their joyful delight, and it returns to them in even greater abundance.”

Cat stood up, mesmerized. While the ad for this island had mentioned dolphins at play, she’d never in her wildest dreams imagined living where she could watch them. Her heart pounded with an inexplicable yearning. Her body tightened with intense excitement. Bright red and white hibiscus bloomed in profusion amid dense, flowering shrubbery that appeared wild yet carefully tended. It was all so pretty. So perfect.

As the dolphins rounded the island beyond her view, she leaned against a porch pillar to take in the view toward the front of the house. The breeze caressed her cheek, and a pair of gulls swooped gracefully over the breaking waves, dipping down to catch their dinner.

Accompanying this dream was the surf, the rhythmic lullaby of waves breaking against the sand. Cat had the sudden urge to shed her black twin set and slacks to walk barefoot in the sand…to feel it ooze up between her toes as the ruffles of white foam lapped at her ankles.

“Perhaps we should see the house,” Leilani suggested, “and then there’s nothing like a sunset walk along the beach to clear your mind. While we talk as if your staying is inevitable or predetermined, you do have a choice. It’s a life-altering decision, dear, so think on it well.”

Cat breathed deeply and then exhaled what felt like a lifetime of stress and heartache and betrayal. “You’re probably right. But then, you already know my answer, don’t you?”

“Leilani knows everyone’s answer, usually before they do,” Ramon remarked. “And because I trust her intuition completely, I’ll leave you ladies to your tour.”

He rose, towering over them, smiling down like some beneficent chocolate god. “If you have questions, please don’t hesitate to ask,” he said in that late-night radio voice. “And if you need inspiration for this book you’re working on, well, we can come up with something for you there, too.”

Cat watched him duck slightly to enter the house, hearing his innuendo and knowing to leave it alone. On impulse, she piled more grapes and petit fours on her plate. “I’m so excited—and so hungry—I hope you won’t mind if I nosh while you show me around.”

The housekeeper smiled that mystical smile again. “Why would I mind? It’s your house. And you’re going to write a blockbuster, breakout novel before you’ve been here six months.”

Cat nipped her lip. Maybe this woman, so very much a Caribbean lily, was more knowledgeable about the world of books and publishing than she’d thought. But then, at this point in her career, she was ready to believe anything, wasn’t she?

From the doorway, Leilani extended her hand with the grace of a ballerina. “If you trust what I say about your new stories—and a new romance in your life—follow me, Catalina.”

Oh, how Cat longed to believe. She slipped her hand into her housekeeper’s and felt that shimmer of mysterious magnetism…a delicious invitation she didn’t dare decline. Who was she to deny the power of positive seduction?

Cat stepped inside and entered another world…a world of ocean-blue shutters and sunshine-yellow walls, where the main floor of the house blended into one large, open room divided subtly into separate areas of a dining room, a living room, and a library. As she would expect from a mistress who was nobility, many of the furnishings were carved from glistening mahogany that bespoke old European elegance, yet the cushions on the couches and chairs echoed the bright island hues of coral and red and yellow.

And everywhere—from the high ceiling beams and the stair railings and the lamps—hung angels of all shapes and sizes. Dark-skinned Caribbean angels in island colors floated above the dining room table, tinkling as a wind chime, while larger angels fashioned from diaphanous fabrics drifted in the living room’s afternoon breeze. From the skylight, tendrils of philodendron and pothos dangled down behind plants in painted pots on the floor, and smaller angels were attached to their long strands like ornaments on a Christmas tree.

While these decorations added a whimsical yet spiritual element to the large room, Cat was immediately aware of moving into another woman’s domain. Did she dare ask about redecorating, once the house was hers?

“My angel collection,” Leilani explained as she opened her arms to them. “Valenzia agreed that this island—Porto Di Angelo means ‘angel haven,’ you see—was a place where such entities favor us with their charm and wisdom. The light and vibrations here are unlike any we’ve felt elsewhere.” The housekeeper grinned impishly at her. “The guardian who escorted you here seems to prefer the beach, where it doesn’t feel so…girlie.”

Cat laughed. “I met Spike right before I won the Powerball. He does seem…unique, considering my previous notions of how angels behave.”

“Crusty like old concrete on the outside, cream puff on the inside. He’s taking good care of you, dear.”

How could Leilani know these things? Her psychic sensitivities would take some getting used to—a subject that would not be discussed until the exotic caretaker decided it was time. A lot of things revolved around this woman, it seemed.

“At the risk of sounding like a skeptic,” Cat murmured, “would the angels allow the Contessa to come to harm? I’m still puzzled about—”

“Do not worry yourself over her fate, Catalina. I’m convinced our beloved Miss Borgia is alive and well! She is a free spirit, a childlike fairy with a flair for living well.” Leilani gazed at the winged figures floating on their invisible strings and lifted her hands to them again. “This isn’t the first lovely home Valenzia graced with her presence and then left behind when she evolved into higher places. I send her my love each time I smile at my collection.”

Cat blinked. Some of this stuff was still beyond her—and she heard a response between Leilani’s lines: if she bought this place, the angels stayed whether she liked them or not.

They moved on to the kitchen, a separate alcove where white appliances gleamed against ocean-blue walls. From louvered doors of sunshine yellow streamed rays of afternoon sunlight, with a breeze that felt cooler as the day came to a close. Cat looked forward to watching a glorious sunset from the porch they’d just left.

“Ramon and I have our quarters on the west side of the house,” her guide explained as they ascended the graceful freestanding stairway. “We thrive in the heat of the day, while Miss Borgia preferred cooler rooms and the less intense light of morning.”

“I’m with her,” Cat agreed, and then she let out a low sigh. They were stepping into a suite of airy, pristine white…white tile floors and stucco walls, with more of that glossy mahogany furniture: a four-poster bed canopied in heavy cutwork lace of bridal white. The white comforter and pillows covered in blues and yellows invited her for a much-needed nap. A window seat looked out over the bay and the unbelievably beautiful water. A desk and bookcases filled an alcove that gave her a view of the gardens below, and her bathroom flooring and fixtures glistened bright white, with towels of the same ocean blue as the shutters throughout the house.

Cat gazed in awe at this space, so peaceful and perfect it looked like a page from the decorating magazines Trevor subscribed to. A room like she herself could never have put together with such simple yet sophisticated details.

“I…I feel like an intruder, taking over Valenzia’s suite—”

“Fear not,” Leilani assured her. “We’ve removed her clothing and the personal effects she left behind, along with the contents of her desk, knowing that whoever bought this home would bring her own belongings. I left your books in the case, however. She would want you to know how she enjoyed your work.”

Unable to suppress a grin, Cat lovingly drew a finger along the paperbound spines she knew so well. “A complete collection,” she mused, “starting with Ride the Wild Wind and the Flame trilogy…. I haven’t thought about these characters and their stories for years! I was writing on an electric typewriter—assuming a computer would stifle my muse—when my first romance got published. How antiquated does that seem?”

“Perhaps their presence will inspire you, dear.” Leilani gazed around the room with the pride of one who’d maintained it for years. “If you want or need anything—anything at all—please tug on this bell pull. Once for me, twice for Ramon. We live right across that hallway, and we hear the bells from all over the house.”

“I—I can’t imagine having servants at my beck and call, so I doubt I’ll—”

“Get used to it.” Leilani’s eyes twinkled like the sunlit sea. “We’ll feel superfluous if you don’t summon us, Catalina. What good is being an angel if you can’t bestow your blessings on those around you?”

Again Cat couldn’t imagine any American domestic thinking that way…but then, Leilani was unlike any housekeeper she’d ever seen. Her sun-kissed body glowed with vitality. Her sari fastened at her shoulder with a simple knot: the breeze fluttered the fabric to reveal lovely legs and feet adorned with the simplest of sandals. She opened the balcony doors overlooking the ocean as if she were giving Cat the greatest of gifts.

Cat swallowed. When the sunlight silhouetted her, Leilani appeared naked in the gauzy dress. Not a hint of a bra or a thong. Her smile said she knew quite well what an enticement she was.

“I spent many a fine hour advising the Contessa on affairs of the heart and soul, and I look forward to doing the same with you, Catalina. Such intimacies are foreign to you, I know,” she added with an arched eyebrow. “You are a loner and an introvert by nature. But your soul is like a lotus flower, just waiting for its time to blossom and bring its unique beauty to the world. I’m honored to be here for your awakening.”

Her mouth opened, but Cat didn’t know what to say—an unsettling experience for a writer whose words had always flowed easily. Or at least they had until she started her pirate project.

“I’ll leave you now. You’re tired, and you need to immerse yourself in Porto Di Angelo as you rest, to reaffirm your sense of belonging here.”

“How do you know that? What do you mean?” Her questions sounded harsh and impatient, but damn! She could only handle so much of this talk from a higher realm.

“We’ll talk of past lives and reincarnation some day…and I’ll reveal the whys and wherefores of your deep feelings for this island. Meanwhile,” she added with a coy smile, “don’t forget to let those at home know you’ve arrived safely.”

With that, Leilani drifted from the room like mist on a warm morning.

Cat knew she was too damn tired when she thought she saw the flutter of gossamer wings as the housekeeper descended to the kitchen. Not a drop of rum punch yet, and already she was a goner.