Charmed By You ((Destiny Bay Romances-The Islanders 5)) (16 page)

For just a moment her hand hovered over her pastels, but she knew at once that they wouldn’t do. Instead, she took out her box of pens, their nibs lined up in neat rows. After drawing out a pad of paper, she filled the pen with
ink and sat down on a stump, ignoring the ants and
roaches that crawled away to make room for her. Be
coming totally absorbed in what she was doing, she began
to draw.

She’d always been adept at pen and ink drawing, but the medium had never captured her imagination as it did
now. Her fingers fairly flew across the page, adding lines
and shading. Once or twice she felt almost as though the pen were filled with magic, her movements seemed so
perfect, so intuitive.

Mele finally looked up and saw her, waved, and went into the house, but Heather hardly noticed. She went on
to draw the mango tree in the next yard, then the cliff just barely visible beyond the hibiscus hedge. Sketch
after sketch flowed from her hand, each better than the
last.

When Maria, the elderly woman who helped Mele in
the kitchen, came out to feed the pigs, Heather asked
her to pose for a moment. Maria agreed with a toothy
grin, and Heather made a drawing that excited her more
than any she’d done in months.

She wanted to tell someone what had happened to her
today. It was like a conversion, a mystical experience,
and she longed to share the joy with one special person who she was sure would understand—Mitch. When she
heard his Jeep crunch into the driveway, she gathered up her work and ran across the road to meet him.

“Mitch!” she called, jogging along so fast that she
didn’t notice how her heels caught on the coral rocks.
“Mitch, wait. I’ve got to show you something.”

He stepped out of the Jeep, cast a disparaging glance at her shoes, and shook his head. “It’ll have to wait until
later, Heather. I’ve got an emergency in the clinic.”

She stood beside the Jeep, clutching her papers to her
chest as he strode away. His eyes had been cold and
intent on something other than her. She felt thoroughly
rebuffed.

It took a long time to rid herself of that desolate
feeling, but she managed. She showed the drawings to Kevin, who was suitably awed by her talent, but she
couldn’t avoid wishing it were Mitch she was impressing.
Kevin took her up a trail that led to the top of a hill
overlooking the village and offered a multitude of sub
jects for her swift pen.

She drew flowers and trees and ocean scenes, but
finally she made Kevin pose for her, and then the magic
happened again. That was what she was meant to do. For the first time in her career, faces came truly alive at
her touch.

The excitement of the discovery stirred her, but she still wished she could share it with Mitch. She ached for
his approval, which irritated her. Why couldn’t she grow
up and depend on herself alone?

“Mitch said he had an emergency today,” she murmured as she attempted to capture Kevin’s devil-may-
care personality on paper. “Do you know anything about
it?”

“Yeah.” He hesitated. “I’m the one who called him
in to take care of it. The Tejeda kid damn near cut his finger off on a chain saw. I called Mitch back to stitch it
up.”

Heather looked at him in surprise. “Couldn’t you have
handled it?”

Kevin’s usually merry face became troubled. “No, Heather. I’m finally coming to terms with my incom
petence as a physician. You see”—he smiled with a wan
attempt at a joke—“I faint at the sight of blood.”

She frowned, not sure how serious he was. “But Kevin...”

“Let’s face it.” Suddenly his voice was bitter. “Dede can do a better job at medicine than I can. I’m not cut out to be a doctor. I never was. After all these years, I’m finally admitting it to myself.”

“But what will you do?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s a world of possibilities, of course.” His eyes twinkled. “I could marry an heiress. Know any? Or take tourists on trips around the island. That ought to pay real well. Hey, maybe I
could hire out as a male model. What do you say, Heather?
Would you give me references?”

She read the pain beneath the jokes and reached out to him sympathetically. “I think you ought to go home and face your father,” she told him impulsively.

“Are you serious?” His laugh was hard-edged. “Did Jack go back to face the giant?”

She shook her head. “I think you’ll never have any peace until you see this thing through,” she said lightly. “But it’s not really my place to tell you what to do, is it? Hold your head still. I have your nose wrong.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon together, then Heather went up to her room to rest and shower for dinner. Her wardrobe looked pretty dreary by now. She knew she’d have to ask Mele for time at the washtub in the morning. She only prayed her last pair of panty hose would last.

She put on a plain lemon-yellow cotton shift, which she’d worn on her stopover in Guam, and tied her hair
on top her head to leave her neck free to catch the evening
breeze. It was hot, so hot that every movement took a
major effort. Everything she touched felt wet, as though
even the walls were sweating.

She went down to the dining room apprehensively,
nagged by the feeling that some sort of showdown was
coming. It was without surprise that she saw Mitch at
Kevin’s table as she entered.

Both men stood up as she approached. She returned
Kevin’s smile and dodged Mitch’s glare. There was an
embarrassing scuffle as Kevin began to pull out her chair,
then backed away, letting Mitch do it.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Heather said lightly,
dropping into the chair and ignoring the brief tussle. “I’m
glad to see you’re eating tonight; Mitch. For a physician you seem to have a poor idea of what good nutrition is
all about.”

He frowned as though he had no idea what she was
talking about. “Don’t worry about my health,” he said
testily, “and I won’t worry about your insomnia.”

Her head jerked up and she stared at him, but
his eyes
were expressionless, as usual. Had he seen her the night before, sitting at her window, watching for a sign of life in his house? If he’d seen her, why hadn’t he made some sort of indication? She reached for her water glass and
took a long drink.

“What delicious surprise do we have on the menu tonight?” she asked when she’d regained her composure. The meal last night had been Hawaiian ham, and she’d
found it superb.

“Pancit,” Kevin told her. “A Philippino dish. Ever
had it?” When she shook her head, he explained. “It’s
made of long noodles in a spicy sauce with bits of chicken,
crab, shrimp, and pork all mixed together. It’s a little spicy
, but I think you’ll like it.”

Heather had her doubts, but she was determined not
to voice them. She sat staring into her water glass, unable
to look up again, waiting for someone to start the conversation. She desperately needed a distraction to help overcome the overwhelming sense of Mitch’s presence beside her.

The silence continued unbroken. When she’d finally
thought of something to say and raised her head to speak,
Mitch interrupted. “What was it you wanted to show me this afternoon?” he asked.

“Oh.” She couldn’t tell him now. She’d wanted to so badly this afternoon, but the joy had gone out of it. She wasn’t sure he’d even care. “Nothing,” she said softly. “It wasn’t important.”

Another long silence followed, broken only when Mele
appeared to take their orders. She left and the three of them stared at their wineglasses. The dining room was
half empty tonight. Heather looked about the place, wish
ing she were eating anywhere but with these two men.

She threw a furtive glance at Kevin, mentally urging
him to say something, and caught him glancing her way.
Their eyes met and they smiled. Before she knew it, the smile had turned into a short giggle set off by her nervousness.

“You two have certainly hit it off.” She couldn’t decide if Mitch’s voice was bitter or amused. “But then, I should have guessed that.”

Heather tried to meet his gaze but found it difficult. “Because Kevin’s such a nice guy?” she proposed tentatively.

“No,” he answered shortly, “because he’s so much
like someone in Flagstaff of whom you were particularly
fond.”

She had no trouble looking into his eyes now. “Oh,
really? Who?” She couldn’t imagine who he was talking
about.

His smile was not pretty. ‘Trevor, of course. Don’t
you see the resemblance?”

She stared at him. “Trevor?” she echoed blankly.

“Sure.” He waved a hand toward his partner.
“They have the same elegant style, the same Ivy League profile, the same knife-sharp crease in their trousers. No
wonder you’re attracted to Kevin. He’s Trevor all over.”

Heather turned to look at the object of their discussion
and realized Mitch did have a point. Both Trevor and
Kevin were well dressed, both from a background of
breeding and money. And, though she hated to make
this comparison, they both possessed little competence
when it came to their careers.

Trevor had never been able to stick to anything, but then that was Trevor. No one really expected it of him. After all, he’d been born into a family wealthy enough
to take care of him no matter what his frailties. His small
failures had been laughed off and swept under the rug for years. Kevin had been raised with higher expecta
tions, but he’d turned in the same disappointments none
theless.

“I guess there are similarities between them,” she
agreed slowly. But why did Mitch sound so jealous? Why
did he say she was attracted to Kevin? He knew there
was nothing in that. It wasn’t like him. “Trevor is my cousin, Kevin,” she explained, “not to mention one of
my very best friends.”

“Any cousin of yours is a friend of mine,” he answered
smoothly, raising his wineglass. “A toast to Trevor.”

She laughed and picked up her glass, but Mitch made
no move toward his. She glanced at him, ready to protest,
when Mele came lumbering up to their table, her face uncharacteristically flushed.

“Heather Carrington,” she said icily, “I got a message
for you. The pump boy just brought it in. Danny Cabrillo
says he’ll be here at ten o’clock sharp tomorrow to audition for the job you offered him.”

Heather blinked, looking into the kindly woman’s an
gry face. For just a moment she couldn’t conceive what Mele could possibly be talking about. “Audition?”

“That’s right.” Mele put her hands on her ample hips.
“This kid thinks you promised him a job. Funny, I thought
this was
my
club. But maybe I was wrong.”

Heather was completely confused. “But I never offered him a job.”

“Oh, no? Then why does he think he can waltz in
here and work at the Coconut Club?” She turned to Kevin
for support. “I can’t believe it. These mainlanders come in here and try to tell you how to run things.”

“Mele, calm down now,” Kevin soothed, trying to
convince her to sit in a chair across from Heather. “There
must be some mistake.”

“Mistake?” Mele wailed. “Mistake? What am I going to do when that kid comes riding up with his suitcase in his hand, expecting a job in my bar and a room in my club? You know how they are. I’ll have to send him back to his village and then all his people will hate me, and then all the village will hate me, and then—“

“Mele, Mele, calm down,” Kevin interrupted, finally
succeeding in getting her to take a seat. “We won’t let
that happen. We’ll think of something.”

“Mele, I did absolutely nothing to contact Danny,” Heather protested. “The only time I even mentioned it
was last night.”

“I heard about it in Titano village this morning,” Mitch
told her quietly. “News travels fast in the tropics.”

Kevin shook his head. “I swear, sometimes I think
they get out their drums in the middle of the night when none of us are listening. News seems to travel almost by
osmosis.”

“You didn’t send for him?” Mele asked, somewhat
mollified.

“I didn’t,” Heather assured her. “But since he’s coming anyway, Mele, if you would just listen to him play, I’m sure you’ll fall in love with that guitar. And if you
could just squeeze him in between the numbers on the
jukebox...”

“Oh, no.” She began to look panicked again. “No
way. I wouldn’t dare do that to the boys. You don’t
know how partial they are to their country tunes.”

“I think I do know,” Heather replied sadly, listening
to the strains of “The Longer I Go Without Your Love,
The More I Want to Die.” “I’m afraid I know only too
well.”

“Besides,” Mele added, frowning at her again, “what
you got against country music?”