A Coral Kiss Part 7

"Here, let me have one of the bags. You shouldn't be carrying so much weight." She reached out to take one of the suitcases.

Jed ignored her efforts, giving her a quick grin. "I like you fussing over me at times, Amy, but there are limits. I can manage the bags just fine, thanks."

Amy stared after him as he made his way out of the ramshackle terminal. d.a.m.n him. If Jed chose to interpret her efforts as "fussing" that was his problem. She was only trying to help.

She followed him outside to another small building where they rented a car, and they were soon on their way.

Several people waved at Amy as Jed drove through town. She waved back cheerfully.

"Do you know everyone on the island?" Jed asked curiously.

"Just about. It's a small, close-knit community and my family has had a home here for nearly thirty years.

We're considered locals."

"What's a nonlocal?"

Amy laughed. "Off-islanders. Tourists, mainly. Or people who haven't lived here long. Off-islanders are automatically under suspicion, I'm afraid, even if they do bring in money."

"Where do I fit into this scheme of things?"

"No problem. You're a guest of my family so you're an honorary local."

Forty minutes later Jed nodded toward a house set high above a perfect semicircle of white beach. It had just come into view as he'd guided the small, noisy, rusty rental car around a bend in the narrow road.

"Is that your parents' place?"

"That's it. Dad and his business partner, a man named Michael Wyman, had it built nearly thirty years ago. They wanted it to look like a gracious old South Pacific plantation home."

"I'd say they did a good job." Jed eyed the large, handsome, two-story structure with an expert's eye.

Amy glanced at the intent expression on his face and then tried to see the house through his eyes. It was a graceful building set amid the flowering trees and palms. Shaded verandas with elegantly carved posts wrapped both levels of the structure. All the rooms, both upstairs and down, opened onto the breezy, outdoor galleries.

The windows were trimmed with decorated shutters that could be pulled closed in the event of a storm.

The front entranceway was an arched set of doors that stood open to reveal the cool depths of a wide hall.

"I meant to ask you," Jed remarked as he slowed for the tumoff, "what did your dad say when you told him you were bringing along a guest?"

"'One bed or two?'" Amy said dryly.

Jed smiled fleetingly, although he didn't take his eyes off the road. "To which you replied?"

"Two."

"I can tolerate your restlessness at night, Amy. Haven't I already proven that?"

His question threw her. Since he'd left her alone for the past three nights, she wondered why he was bothering to discuss the subject in the first place. Irritated, she kept her eyes on the front doors of her parents' home. "I didn't specify two beds to save you from my restless sleep habits. I did it to save you from a lot of-urn, unnecessary pressure."

"Pressure?"

"To set a date," she amplified politely.

"For what?" He sounded honestly blank.

"To marry me, you idiot!" For just an instant, Amy felt quite angry.

As the light dawned, Jed grinned again. "Does your father have a shotgun?"

"It wouldn't be all that humorous, Jed. Both my sister, Sylvia, and I are unmarried. We're the only unmarried offspring and it worries everyone. My parents, as I've explained before, tend to worry, especially about me. They also tend to get awfully excited whenever some unwary male shows an undue amount of interest in me."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You do that." The asperity went out of her voice. She was about to inquire after his leg but changed her mind at the last minute. He'd probably accuse her of fussing. "How are your ribs?" she heard herself ask instead. She could have bitten her tongue.

"They ache a little. Not too bad. A couple of drinks before dinner should take care of the problem. I prefer alcohol to pills."

Some time later Jed stretched his aching body out on a lounger and surveyed the picturesque scene that would have done any postcard justice. From this side of the house the veranda posts framed a scene of the tranquil beach and brilliantly clear sea below the house. It was a perfect island setting. Jed had come to a couple of conclusions since Amy had introduced him to her parents. The first was that Amy had gotten her near-green eyes from her father. The second conclusion was that Douglas Slater didn't look like the type to dig out a shotgun if a man proved reluctant to marry his daughter.

Slater did, however, look as though he were capable of finding other ways of accomplis.h.i.+ng his goals.

Hardly surprising, Jed thought. The man had made Slater Aero a success in what everyone knew was a cutthroat business. Anyone capable of accomplis.h.i.+ng that feat knew how to get what he wanted.

Jed felt a certain amount of respect for Amy's father right from the start. His first impression of the older man was that Slater could have pa.s.sed for everyone's image of a retired college professor. He was nearing sixty and had acquired a patina of casual charm and civilized polish that hid a core of strength.

His trim body and healthy color beneath his light tan could easily lead one to mistake him for a man ten years younger. His silver hair was thinning in a gentlemanly fas.h.i.+on and he looked at home in a short sleeved s.h.i.+rt, a pair of expensively cut slacks and sandals on his feet. That academic look had probably served him well in business. It would have been nice camouflage for the ruthlessness that lay underneath.

Jed had a practical appreciation for people who were good at camouflage; it was one of his own personal skills.

Gloria Slater was equally interesting. She was in her early fifties and her stylishly short hair was almost completely gray. There were, however, traces of a familiar golden brown laced throughout the silver.

The effect was aristocratic, Jed decided. She had fine, attractive features that had probably been through a very discreet facelift.

Through the years Gloria Slater had learned to wear her husband's success well. The perfect executive's wife, Amy had said, and Jed believed it. Gloria Slater was an intelligent woman, almost intimidatingly organized, and it was obvious she loved her husband and daughter and was devoted to the family she had created.

On his way out to the veranda Jed had seen photographs of Sylvia posing in her consulting room with her a.s.sorted medical degrees behind her on the wall. The photograph of Hugh, the lawyer and aspiring political candidate, showed a good looking, square-jawed young man sitting comfortably on a desk in front of a wall lined with law books. The framed portrait of Darren, the oldest son, showed him standing proudly in the office of the President and Chief Executive Officer of Slater Aero, Inc. It was the office his father had turned over to him two years before.

The picture of Amy showed a young woman in jeans and a bright s.h.i.+rt on a windswept beach. Her hair was whipping around her face and she was laughing at the camera. There were no obvious signs of achievement or success in the picture, just a happy young woman whose eyes promised gentleness, feminine mischief and excitement. Jed liked that photograph the best.

Jed was torn from his reverie when his host called to him from the teak liquor cart that had been wheeled out to the veranda. "I've got Scotch, bourbon or vodka, Jed. What can I get you?"

Jed glanced at Amy, who was stretched out on another lounger beside her mother. He grinned. "Got any wimpy white wine? Amy's been trying to wean me from the hard stuff."

Amy's head came up in shock. "Jed! I've never tried to tell you what to drink. How can you say such a thing?"

Slater glanced at his daughter's startled expression and then raised his brows at Jed.

"It's true, you know," Jed defended himself with a rueful expression. "Everytime I've been to her house for dinner I've had to drink wine. Usually white wine. She never seems to have any real liquor around.

To be fair, she's got one bottle of brandy that she hides in a corner of the cupboard, but you'd think it was solid gold, the way she dispenses it."

Amy's eyes widened. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. If you wanted Scotch when you came to my house, you should have brought your own bottle!"

Jed shrugged. "It wasn't that big a deal. I thought it was kind of cute."

"What was kind of cute?" Amy demanded, her eyes forbidding.

"The fussing." Jed smiled at Gloria Slater. "I haven't had a woman fuss over me in years until Amy came along. I hadn't realized I missed the little demands and instructions for improvement."

Amy sat speechless while her father poured a gla.s.s of wine for Jed. "Interestingly enough, I never really thought of my daughter as the sort of woman who, uh, fusses. I always had the impression her mother and I were the ones who fussed over her."

"Oh, she's good at it," Jed said. "And I don't mind. I can handle white wine. The trick is to hold your breath and swallow fast." He accepted the gla.s.s from Slater and leaned back in the lounger. He grinned at Amy. "But she's got a few other habits I may have to modify. I've never seen anyone with such limited taste in music."

"You've never said anything about the music I play. I had no idea you didn't like it."

Gloria shuddered in mock revulsion. "I refuse to take responsibility for Amy's current musical tastes. She was exposed to cla.s.sical music while she was growing up, and-"

"Hah," Amy interrupted, looking triumphant. "That's what you think, Mom. I used to sneak in my rock n roll on the side."

"Then you have no one to blame but yourself for your present appalling tastes, my dear," Slater said as he finished handing out drinks and sat down beside his wife. "We did our best."

Amy cast her eyes heavenward, apparently seeking divine intervention. "I'm not here more than two hours and everyone is already picking on me."

"It's probably a conspiracy," Jed offered, aware that he was enjoying himself. He was very conscious of the fact that the Slaters were checking him out as a suitable mate for their daughter and it amused him.

The irony of the situation was not lost on him. "If I were you, Amy, I'd get paranoid."

She stared at him, all humor leaving her eyes for an instant. "Maybe you're right."

Jed swallowed his wine, wondering what had put her over the edge. One moment she had been a picture of amused exasperation. The next there had been a haunted look in her eyes. One of these days, in his own good time, he'd find out what it was that kept Amelia Slater hovering on the brink.

"My daughter tells me you were recently in an accident, Jed?" Gloria looked at him with ready sympathy.

"Nothing serious. I had a disagreement with a car. I lost."

"Good lord, how awful." The older woman shook her head. "Where did it happen?"

Jed swirled the wine in his gla.s.s. "The Middle East. I was on a.s.signment there with my company."

Douglas Slater glanced at him inquiringly. "Amy says you're an engineer?"

"That's right." Then, because he knew what the next question would be, Jed added, "Mechanical engineer." Douglas Slater, after all, would know to ask that kind of question.

"And you work for a company that has overseas projects?"

Jed relaxed back against the lounger, idly ma.s.saging his leg through his cotton slacks. "A small consulting firm that's gotten a couple of major projects recently. I've been busy. Haven't seen nearly as much of Amy as I'd like." He looked directly at Amy, who looked astonished.

The honest surprise in her face made him want to give her a small shake. Was she really so oblivious to his growing desire? Maybe he shouldn't have left her alone at night for the past few days. His idea had been to give her a little time to adjust to their changing relations.h.i.+p. He had been determined not to rush her now that the initial hurdle had been crossed. But she seemed to have retreated back into her nice, safe cage of friends.h.i.+p.

There were a few more pointed, parental questions about his work which Jed fielded easily enough while Amy tried unsuccessfully to interrupt. Jed had the impression she didn't like the way her parents were delicately dissecting his occupation and financial status, just as if he were, indeed, a suitor for her hand.

He almost had the impression that she might be trying to protect him from her parents' inquiries.

Personally, he was finding the game entertaining. The last time he'd been put through this he'd been eight years younger and a good deal more nervous. To be strictly fair, though, he reminded himself that the last time it had all been for real. He and Elaine had actually set a date and the future had looked good. But then things had changed and he had learned not to look too far ahead.

"What Jed really does well," Amy declared, "is make bird cages. The most beautiful bird cages in the world. I think he ought to consider making a full-time career out of it."

Jed was surprised by her tone. She sounded as if she meant it. "And when I consider doing that," he said mildly, "I can also consider learning to live on an income that wouldn't provide enough loose change to buy wimpy white wine, let alone decent Scotch."

Gloria Slater spoke before her daughter could reply. With the grace of years of experience, she smiled and changed the subject. "Where does your family live, Jed? California?"

He should have known that question would follow right behind the financial status quiz, Jed told himself.

He glanced at Amy and saw the small frown between her eyes. She had never asked him about his family. It was one of several subjects they had silently agreed not to discuss for the past three months.

"My parents are dead. Killed in a plane accident a long time ago."

"Any brothers or sisters?" Gloria persisted gently.

"I had an older brother." Jed took a long swallow of his wine. "Andy died about eight years ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."

Gloria's comments, although well intentioned, were only the conventional reaction to old deaths in the family, Jed decided. It was Amy who looked stricken. She was sitting there in her bright turquoise trousers, yellow s.h.i.+rt and white woven belt with an expression of genuine shock on her face.

She didn't know anything about Andy or his parents and now she was beginning to think about how many other things she didn't know about him, Jed decided. Why was it bothering her? It hadn't seemed to worry her for the past three months. Probably had something to do with bringing a lover home to meet the family, he thought. That was bound to make a woman view a man through different eyes.

All things considered, Jed realized, he was handling this traditional little scene better than Amy. But then, she hadn't brought him here with the intention of running him through the old-fas.h.i.+oned gauntlet to secure parental approval. She'd brought him here for reasons of her own. Jed wondered how long it would be before she told him what those reasons were.

"Well, Amy," Gloria announced, getting to her feet in a graceful movement, "I think it's time we sent the men to the barbeque while you and I retire to the kitchen."

Amy glanced uncertainly at her father and Jed wanted to laugh. He knew she was wondering what other personal question Douglas Slater was going to ask when she was out of earshot.

"Don't worry," Jed murmured for her ears alone as she walked past his lounger, "I'll yell for help if I get in over my head."

"I'm glad you think it's funny. Oh, Jed, I'm sorry about this. I told them you were a friend."

"I know. Two bedrooms. Forget it, Amy, I won't leave you in the lurch. I'm not going to get scared and take to my heels just because your dad's asking me the same kind of questions I get from the IRS. I'm made of stronger stuff than that."

She batted her long lashes and dropped her clear voice into its huskiest range. "You're so wonderfully macho. A woman could just swoon."

At least she wasn't looking nervous any longer. "You don't think it takes guts to chat casually with a man who knows you're sleeping with his daughter?"

Amy stopped batting her lashes. "Dad doesn't know we're-that we once-uh..."

"The h.e.l.l he doesn't." Jed reached out and patted her turquoise clad thigh with absent possessiveness.