Bride in Barbados (5 page)

"It appears," he observed thoughtfully, "that you're not
prepared to let your career dominate you."

"There are too many other things in life."

Their first course arrived and neither of them spoke while
the waiter placed salads and a tray of breads and crackers before them.
Susan took a bite of the salad, discovering that the savory house
dressing was delicious. "Tell me, Travis," she said after several
moments, "do you always eat dinner this late?"

"Not usually," he told her readily. "I didn't eat earlier
at the Top Hat because I hoped you would join me later." She looked up
quickly and caught his satisfied expression, realizing that he had had
little doubt of her acceptance. He really was a confident man, almost
irritatingly so.

"Have you lived in Miami long?" he continued smoothly.

"Only four months. I moved here from New Orleans."

"Where you worked as a singer?"

She nodded, and he regarded her meditatively. "I sense
that there was more behind the move than a desire to change jobs. Was
there a club manager in New Orleans you wanted to escape from?"

Susan responded to the teasing note in the question with a
self-conscious smile. "I was engaged and I—
we
decided to call it off. It seemed better all around for me to put some
distance between us. And I didn't mean to give you the impression
earlier that I don't like Miami. I do, although I wish my job situation
wasn't quite as touchy as it is. It's reached the point where I almost
expect, every night when I come to work, for Dirk to give me notice. He
might have done it tonight if you hadn't interrupted." She lifted her
head. "But there are other hotels and supper clubs in town, dozens of
them. Anyway, I think Dirk finally knows where I stand, so I shouldn't
have anymore trouble with him."

Travis laughed softly. "You don't really believe that, do
you? Surely you've seen operators like Cantino before. He won't give up
so easily. With him a point of honor is involved—if I may use
the term loosely."

"You know," she said, "talking about Dirk Cantino is
spoiling my appetite. I'd rather talk about you. Where is your home?"

"Barbados."

"I know it's an island, but I'm a bit unclear about where
it's located."

"In the West Indies northeast of Venezuela and directly
east, across the Caribbean, from Nicaragua."

"I've never seen the Caribbean, except in photo stories
and on travel posters. It must be a beautiful place."

"The climate and geography are little short of ideal," he
agreed, "but, as I'm sure you are aware, the small Caribbean nations
have their problems. Barbados is rather unique in that it has a stable
government and a healthy economy. Not that we don't have our troubles,
too. There are always factions that would like to exploit a country's
politics and wealth to their own advantage, and it's usually not in the
people's best interests to permit such factions to gain control."

Susan was listening interestedly. "Are you in politics,
Travis?"

He smiled. "I'm not an elected official, but I actively
support the party that is presently in power. My business is
sugar—and banking."

Their main course arrived, but while they busied
themselves with the halibut steaks Susan was still thinking about what
he had said. "You say part of your business is sugar. Do you grow it?"

"I have a sugarcane plantation, one of the largest on the
island. It's been in my family for generations." He continued talking
throughout dinner about Barbados and the plantation. It was clear that
he loved the place where he lived and the work he did which, from
Susan's point of view, placed him among the most fortunate of men. A
good many people lived their lives being dissatisfied with one or the
other.

When they had finished their after-dinner coffee, he
phoned for a taxi for himself, then escort-ed Susan to her car. The
restaurant parking area was sparsely lighted and the shadows playing
across the planes of his face emphasized the harsh angularity of his
features. Placing a hand on the door handle of her car, Susan turned to
say sincerely, "I hope you have an uneventful trip home."

There was a silence. She looked up and found Travis eyeing
her, his expression shrouded by shadow. He put a hand out, taking her
chin between warm, hard fingers, tipping it back so that his dark eyes
could probe her face. "I'll be here a few days longer. Will you have
dinner with me again tomorrow night?"

Some feminine instinct warned her to say no, but somehow,
with those lancing eyes devouring her features, she couldn't get the
words out. Instead, she heard herself saying, "Yes."

She thought he was going to kiss her, and all her senses
began to clamor wildly. But he didn't. He continued to survey her
flushed face, and then released her chin. "I'll come to your dressing
room after the last show."

He stood watching as she started the engine and drove
away. Her eyes on the thinning traffic, she turned toward her apartment
building. While her hands handled the wheel, her mind simmered with a
hodgepodge of reactions.

Susan hadn't reached the age of twenty-six without
learning something about men. She had thought herself madly in love at
nineteen with a college football player. He had been a playfully
amusing boy and their campus romance had ended only when she learned he
was vowing eternal devotion to a cheerleader on the nights when he
wasn't feeding Susan the same line. A brief infatuation with her
English professor in her senior year had been dashed when she
discovered, after having dinner with him several times, that he was
married and had a son. Faced with an enraged, accusing Susan, he had
stated blandly that he hadn't lied to her about it. She contended that,
while he may not have lied with words, he had certainly done so with
actions and the fact that he had deliberately omitted giving her such a
vital bit of information about himself.

These experiences had made her wary of men and entering
into any relationship until she was sure of where she stood. Singing
jobs had taken her from one place to another with a frequency that
prevented her from forming any serious attachments until the job in New
Orleans that had lasted eighteen months. After meeting Frank Rosier,
she kept her defenses up for a long while, but eventually the
persistent little attentions he paid her wore her down. She found that
she enjoyed his company and her wariness was so overcome by his charm
that she had accepted an engagement ring. Having made the commitment,
she tried very hard to overlook Frank's faults. Eventually, though, she
had arrived at a point where his considerable charm could no longer
outweigh, in her mind, his weakness of character. Cutting her losses,
she had left the best job she'd ever had and come to Miami.

From the first moment when she had seen Travis Sennett in
the Top Hat, she had sensed the danger he represented. She had known
that a woman whose past relationships with men had left her
disillusioned and vulnerable would do well to stay away from him. In
addition to his physical attractions, of which she was far too aware,
there were too many signs of ruthlessness in him—the
sensuous mouth that could so quickly form itself into a hard, grim line
as it had done when he faced Dirk Cantino, the relentless glint in the
dark eyes that had so unsettled her during her act, the cynical
expression she had sensed more than seen when he asked her to have
dinner with him tomorrow night.

Travis Sennett was a hard man. She was convinced that he
could be ruthless in dealing with other men. Could he be as ruthless in
his dealings with women?

For the first time she seriously considered the
possibility that he might be married. That, at least, was something she
must discover during their dinner the next night. Of one thing she was
fairly sure: Travis Sennett would not lie to her. He was too cocksure
to feel any need for lying.

She was glad he would only be in town a few days. Such a
brief acquaintance could surely pose little danger for her. At the same
time, she was vexingly aware of something within herself that had
flickered into life whenever she set eyes on Travis Sennett. It was
irritating to realize that she was disappointed because he hadn't
kissed her.

Unlocking the door to her apartment, Susan stepped into
the small living room followed by Travis Sennett. She switched on the
overhead light, exposing the bare off-white walls, the neutral beige of
the shag carpet that was beginning to look worn near the door and in
front of the olive tweed couch. Susan grimaced in distaste at the room,
a replica of a thousand others in apartments throughout the land.

She kept the three small rooms meticulously clean, but the
apartment had never seemed quite so drab as it did tonight because she
couldn't help imagining how it must look to Travis's eyes. He had
talked enough about his home over dinner this evening for her to
surmise that it was gracious and steeped in family tradition.

"Make yourself comfortable," she told Travis now, "while I
make the coffee."

He tugged the knot of his tie loose. Unfastening the top
button of his shirt, he relaxed on the couch, picking up a news
magazine from a lamp table. Susan went into the adjoining kitchen. The
fact that she had invited Travis to her apartment for coffee after
dinner in an intimate little restaurant was just beginning to register
fully in her mind. Perhaps the three glasses of wine she had drunk with
dinner were to blame, although she was feeling utterly and
clearheadedly sober now. She ran water into the pot, measured the
coffee and set the glass percolator on the electric range.

While she waited for the coffee to perk, she thought about
the evening. True to his word, Travis had appeared at her dressing room
minutes after she finished her last performance. As punctual as he was,
though, Dirk Cantino was there before him with another plan for Susan
to have a drink with him in his room, this one sounding more like a
command than his previous invitations.

Dirk hadn't bothered to hide his anger when they were
again interrupted by Travis, who had lounged in the doorway and
regarded Dirk with steely eyes until Dirk had left. It had been clear
to Susan, and evidently to Dirk as well, that Travis was perfectly
willing and capable of throwing the manager out bodily if he balked.

"Your boss wasn't very glad to see me," Travis had drawled
as he guided Susan to a low-slung blue Trans Am that he had rented for
the remainder of his stay in Miami. Susan had left her own car in the
garage that morning and it would not be ready for a couple of days. In
the meantime, she was using a taxi service for transportation to and
from work.

She had passed off her boss's reaction lightly. "I really
couldn't care less about that." Inwardly, though, she was troubled by
thoughts of how that second confrontation between Dirk and Travis might
affect her job.

Nevertheless, she managed to put Dirk and her job out of
her mind and enjoy dinner with Travis. He was an interesting
conversationalist and an urbane escort. And Susan had to admit to
herself that she rather enjoyed the way heads turned when they walked
into the restaurant together. Excessive vanity was not one of her
faults, but she couldn't help being aware that they made a striking
couple.

She had felt more relaxed and talked more animatedly than
she could remember doing on a date in a long time. One of the reasons,
she knew, that she had allowed herself to respond to Travis so quickly
was the knowledge, standing by like a convenient escape hatch, that his
return to Barbados was imminent. He had told her tonight that his
business in Miami was completed and there had been no indication of
anything else that might delay him.

As she entered the living room with their coffee on a
tray, Travis's eyes left the magazine and he studied her long, shapely
legs as she approached.

Susan set the tray on the low table in front of the couch.
"Here we are. You did say you prefer yours black, didn't you?"

"Right," Travis murmured, helping himself to one of the
cups. She sat at the other end of the couch and, kicking off her
spike-heeled shoes, curled her legs up beneath her tiered lace-trimmed
skirt.

Studying her across the width of the couch, he brought up
the subject of her boss again. "I hope I haven't made your situation with Cantino worse than it
was already."

"It couldn't be much worse," she told him frankly. "The
truth is, I've been thinking of looking for another job." She hadn't
been thinking of doing it immediately, but she didn't want him to feel
in any way responsible for her problems with Dirk. "I have a friend in
New York who's doing well working the big hotels. She's been after me
to come for a visit. She can arrange an interview with her agent. Maybe
I should go."

After swallowing some of his coffee, he set his cup aside
and pulled a thin cheroot from his pocket. "Do you mind if I smoke?"
When she shook her head, he produced a gold pocket lighter and drew on
the cheroot. He looked at her, his eyes narrowed, the smoke from his
cheroot drifting upward. The lines fanning out from his eyes, which she
was seeing clearly for the first time, only added to the aura of
virility and power that he exuded. "Haven't you any family?" he asked
suddenly.

Mercifully, he released her from his riveting gaze. He
took another drag on the cheroot and Susan stared into her coffee. "My
mother and a brother live in Phoenix. My father died when I was twelve.
He was in the insurance business, as is my brother."

"You sound as if you're reading from a resume," he
observed wryly.

"I haven't been close to my family since I left college.
They've never understood how I could prefer the uncertainty of being a
performer to a steady office job." She glanced up at him and laughed
softly. "I think my mother suspects I somehow got mixed up with her
real daughter in the hospital nursery." Again she was surprised at how
easy it was to talk to him. During the two evenings she had spent with
him, she had told him more about herself than she ordinarily told
people after knowing them for months. But his question about her family
gave her the opening she had been looking for all evening.