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“We won’t have to worry about fresh water, then,” she said. “And I love those soft, tropical rains. There’s something very…sensual about them, don’t you think?” She traced her index finger up and down the stem of her wineglass, eyes locked to his, telegraphing a message that had nothing to do with rain.
Or maybe that was only his overheated brain imagining she was stroking something other than a wineglass.
Adam returned with the steaks and hijacked the conversation once more. “Nicole says you’re a photographer,” he said. “That you’ve been photographing the reef.”
“Yes. I’m cataloging the sea life here.”
“For a book?” He forked the slabs of meat onto the grill.
Ian shifted in his chair. “Maybe.” Time to turn the tables and interrogate Adam for a while. “What’s your interest here?” he asked. “There are a lot of places to dive.”
Adam ignored the question. He refilled his glass and leaned against the rail. “Nicole said you know a lot about the history of the island.”
“Some.”
“I’m a history professor. Michigan State University. I’m interested in the nautical history of this area.”
“You mean pirates.”
Obviously Adam hadn’t expected this. He studied Ian through narrowed eyes for a moment. “Why do you say that?”
“Pirates are about the only thing significant in Passionata’s Island’s history that I’m aware of. That and the curse.”
“A curse?” Nicole leaned forward in her chair. “What curse?”
He had their attention now, and took his time finishing his wine and setting aside his glass before he proceeded. “Well, the story is that on the gallows, Passionata pronounced a curse on the island. She said no one would ever again be able to live here, that her treasure would be forever hidden and that only disaster would befall any who tried to recover it or reclaim the island.”
Nicole’s dark eyes clouded and she glanced at Adam. “I hadn’t heard that.”
“Fairy tales.” Adam checked the steaks, then sat across from Ian once more. “History is full of things like that, mostly apocryphal.”
Ian shrugged. “All I can tell you is that the treasure has apparently never been found—if the British government actually left any behind when they cleared the island in late 1714. In the 1820s, settlers from Jamaica tried to establish a colony here. They were wiped out by disease. The island itself was almost completely destroyed by a hurricane in 1850.”
The skepticism left Adam’s eyes, replaced by a definite interest. “Tell me more about this hurricane.”
“I don’t know much more,” Ian said. “There was a major storm here around 1850 that completely submerged the island and destroyed most of the vegetation. From what I’ve read, it took more than a hundred years for the jungle to return to its present condition.”
“But Passionata’s tower survived,” Nicole said.
“Yes,” he said. “If you check out the construction of that thing, it’s rooted deep in solid rock. The bottom walls are three feet thick. It’s as close to indestructible as a man-made building can be.”
“Steaks are ready,” Adam announced and began forking them onto a plate.
Nicole brought out potatoes and they settled in to eat. Not having had fresh beef for more than a week, Ian’s attention was riveted for the first ten minutes of the meal.
But gradually, his hunger sated, he became more aware of the woman across from him at the table. When he looked up, he found Nicole’s gaze fixed on him. And judging by the mysterious smile that played about her mouth, she wasn’t unhappy with what she saw.
As soon as dinner was over, Adam excused himself to go below. The abruptness of his departure surprised Ian. “What’s his problem?” he asked Nicole as he helped her clean up.
“Don’t mind him,” she said. “When he fixes his mind on something, he’s the typical absentminded professor. He forgets to eat or sleep or anything.”
Ian glanced toward the door to the cabin. “What’s on his mind right now?”
She shrugged and picked up a stack of plates. “Probably hurricanes or curses—no telling what you said that set him off.” She grinned. “But at least you and I will be alone now.”
He smiled back. “Let’s leave the dishes for later,” he said.
“Oh, I intend to. I’m going to leave them for Adam to do. After all, I did most of the cooking.”
Carrying the assortment of glasses, he followed her to the galley. “How do you and Adam know each other?” he asked, mentally bracing himself for the news that they were former lovers.
“We were roommates for a while, in a house with a couple of other people.” She filled the galley’s tiny sink with dishes and glanced over her shoulder at him. “I guess we hit it off because he’s one of the few men I’ve been around who treated me like one of the guys. I feel about him the same way I feel about my brother.”
“He treats you like one of the guys? What—is he gay?”
She laughed. “Not at all. There’s just no physical chemistry between us. And we don’t want there to be.”
“So…is there a man in your life? A romantic relationship?”
“There was.” She turned to face him. “Until I found out that for most of the time he’d been seeing me, he was also sleeping with a topless dancer he met at some sleazy club. Probably others, as well.”
Ian winced. “Guess we’re in the same boat.”
She raised her chin and studied him for a moment. He was silent, waiting, expectation electrifying the air. He was certain now that the sexual attraction he felt was not one-sided. Normally he would have made the first move to establish that, but with Nicole he was willing to wait. Waiting only served to heighten his excitement.
After a moment she walked out onto the deck. He followed, his eyes focused on the straight line of her spine, the soft curve of her hips, the gentle swaying of the silken fabric falling over her buttocks.
She stopped at the rail and stood looking out into the darkness. He could hear the slap of waves against the side of the yacht and the insistent, high-pitched peeps of tree frogs in the jungle behind them.
“What do you think of Passionata’s theories?” she asked after a moment.
“Her theories?”
“Yes. Her belief that male/female relationships work out best if the woman is in charge.”
“It was certainly an unusual idea for its time.” He stood next to her, his back to the ocean, watching her. Though much of her face was in shadow, he could make out the soft curve of her cheek, the half smile on her lips. The breeze stirred tendrils of her dark hair and brought the smell of her perfume to him, exotic and floral. “It’s still an unusual idea.”
“But do you think it’s a good one?”
“Why does anyone have to be in charge of a relationship?” he asked.
She faced him, moving closer, so that the skirt of her dress brushed against his legs, a teasing caress. “If you had been a man of that time,” she said, “if you had been William D., would you have allowed her to seduce you?”
He had a sharp memory of the scenes in Passionata’s book where she toyed with the captured sailor, and arousal lanced through him. But just because the idea of an act or situation turned him on didn’t mean it was what he really wanted. “I don’t think that’s a question I can answer,” he said. “I’m a man of today.”
She turned away. “Oh, yes, the rugged individualist who comes to the island by himself, risk be damned,” she said.
“Do you think I’m a crazy fool?”
She looked at him once more, eyes boring into him. “What if I said I intended to seduce you?” she asked. “Would you see it as a threat…or a fantasy?”
Maybe both. But his heart beat faster at her words. “What are you getting at?” he asked.
“Come with me.” She took his hand and led him to the ladder at the side of the ship. “Let’s go for a walk on the beach.”
Maybe she wanted to get further away from Adam to do her seducing, he speculated, as he followed her down the ladder and onto the dinghy. When they reached the beach he kicked off his sandals and buried his toes in the cool sand. Protected by the reef and uninhabited for years, Passionata’s Island offered a beach free of litter, broken glass and other man-made hazards.
Nicole took his hand and led him to a hammock strung between two palm trees. “Lie down,” she commanded and pushed him back into the hammock.
He did as she asked, expecting her to lie beside him. But instead, she crawled on top of him, and straddled his stomach. Her thighs clenched him tightly, and he could feel the heat of her sex through the thin cotton of his shirt.
She planted her palms on his chest and stared down at him, her expression serious. “Yes or no?” she said. “Do you want to be seduced?”
If he said no, would she leave? And what would he have gained by this defense of his dignity? He thought of Passionata and William D., and the passages the long-ago London censors had labeled obscenity.
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