§ § § -- September 10, 1994
On the edge of tears, Jenny left the pool and returned to the bungalow, which she discovered was deserted. It was just as well; she didn't feel like facing her family and telling them how badly it had gone with Rodney. She thumped disconsolately onto the bed in the room she was sharing with Dania and traced the subtle design in the bedspread, letting her misery have its way.
"Well, isn't this convenient," said someone, and Jenny froze, forgetting everything. Her stomach began rolling and her hands shook, making her dig into the bedspread with her fists to keep the trembling from communicating itself.
"Say something, babe," suggested Ray Branham, strolling into the bedroom through the open glass door in the window wall. "Aren't you happy to see me?" He rounded the corner of the bed and stopped in front of Jenny, lifting her chin to force her to look at him; she twitched away and turned her head.
"Get out of here, Ray," she said tensely.
Ray grabbed her upper arm and yanked her to her feet. His deceptively handsome face hadn't lost any of its attractiveness, but the rotten core that lurked beneath his good looks marred his features and glinted from his pale-blue eyes. "I don't think so, babe. I knew you and Dania had to come out of your daddy's fortress one of these days, and when I saw you on that game show, I knew all I had to do was bide my time. I been here for about two months now, you know that? I knew sooner or later you'd show up and I could finally get ahold of you. And what happens but I see you yakking it up with some guy." His lip curled and his voice became a snarl; he pushed his face right into her frightened one. "You belong to me, Jenny Branham, you got that? You don't talk to any guy!"
"I don't belong to you, Ray," she snapped, for a moment finding some of her old spirit. "I never did, even when we were married—but we're divorced now, and you have no control over who I see or talk to. And by the way, it's Jenny Knight."
Ray instantly exploded, backhanding her so hard that she stumbled halfway across the room and collided with the wall. "Don't you dare talk back to me, you hear me?" he roared, seizing her arm and pulling with nearly enough force to wrench it from the socket. Jenny shrieked in pain. "Shut up!" Ray screamed and cracked her head against one of the posts that supported the canopy over the bed.
Stars burst in Jenny's head and she saw her world slowly go black. The intense, throbbing pain gradually receded; she welcomed the darkness that swallowed her, because it gave her release from Ray and his screaming and his hard, hard hands.
‡ ‡ ‡
Not till suppertime did Rodney finally return to the bungalow he was sharing with Monica, feeling confused and guilty and disgusted with himself all at the same time. He wasn't proud of the way he'd treated poor Jenny; but he just couldn't stand the idea of her seeing him as a charity case. Besides, if she was divorced with a child to support, she'd more than likely need that trust fund herself.
Monica looked up hopefully from the magazine she was reading and brightened when she recognized him. "Where've you been all afternoon, darling?" she asked, rising and coming to him. "I hope you were able to think things through."
He shook his head. "No, I think I'm only more confused," he muttered, shying away when she reached for his hands. "I just came over here to get some of my stuff."
Monica canted her head, eyeing him in puzzlement. "Why?"
He cleared his throat, hoping the story he'd concocted at more or less the last minute would be convincing enough. "Aw, well, I'm kind of an old-fashioned boy, I suppose. Last night before the wedding and all…I mean, we'll have the honeymoon tomorrow, right? And a little anticipation might be good for us."
"Oh," said Monica, surprised. "But…"
Rodney forced a grin. "Please? Do it for me," he said.
She regarded him a little doubtfully, then finally shrugged and chuckled. "Well, if that's what you want," she said. "But where will you be?"
"I'll just take a room at the hotel for tonight," he said. "Humor me, Monica. And while you're at it, get your mind off it too. Go to the luau or something and enjoy yourself. It's crazy for you to sit around here just because your only reason for coming here was the wedding. Haven't you checked on the preparations today?"
"Why bother?" said Monica breezily. "Mr. Roarke has a reputation for being the very best host there is, and I have complete faith that he'll come through for us. So I'm just relaxing here. But now that you mention it, I think I'll take a ride. I hear the stables here have some of the best horses on earth, and anyway, I miss Windrider."
Rodney nodded. "I'm sure you do. Go on ahead, and have fun." He watched her go to the bedroom to change into riding gear and sighed heavily when she was out of earshot. Between her horses and her society obligations, she actually led a busy life for someone who was idle rich; but for Rodney, it simply emphasized the difference between her and him. He had never figured out what it was about him that seemed to so captivate her. They were from totally different worlds, and he had never felt comfortable in hers.
Monica sailed happily out of the bungalow, waving at him as she went, and he hurried into the bedroom to throw some things into his suitcase. He was really looking forward to having time and space to himself, which made him feel guilty and irritated him all over again. I've totally botched things up, he thought, scowling at himself. I couldn't even treat Jenny in a civilized way. Well, the least I can do is try to make amends with her. Once I get settled in at the hotel, I'll see if I can find her.
‡ ‡ ‡
Sunset cast a deep red glow across the water, the sail and their faces as Brian and Lauren toasted each other with Dom Perignon, vintage 1964. They'd surprised each other with their respective knowledge of and skill at boating, and together had piloted their rented sailboat some ten miles off the coast of Fantasy Island.
"Is this the life, or what?" Brian remarked blissfully, swirling the wine in his glass. "A sweet boat, a delicious dinner, the best wine in the world…and a pretty lady to share it all with. What more could I possibly ask for?"
Lauren smiled faintly, a wistful glint in her eyes. "That it'd never end?" she suggested.
Brian focused on her and smiled back. "Hey, that's a good one. Gotta agree with that." He tipped back the glass again, savoring the liquid as it slid down his throat. "Ahh. Ambrosia, sheer ambrosia. You know…" He sat up and scanned the water around them; lights twinkled from the distant coastline, and stars were popping out overhead in all their glittering glory. "It doesn't have to end, if we don't want it to."
"No?" Lauren asked, hope blooming within her. She was feeling broadsided, yet it was a wonderful feeling. Never before had she had this kind of instant attraction to a man; she supposed she must have been waiting for Brian Knight all this time, cliché though it was. He was here only for the weekend, and she didn't want to waste a single moment when she was as sure as she felt right now.
"No," Brian said, setting his empty glass aside and smiling at her. "Not if we don't want it to. Hey, it's Fantasy Island: we can have our fondest wishes, right?"
"That's what they say," Lauren replied inanely, heart pounding.
They gazed at each other; then Brian glanced over their heads in the fast-fading light and said teasingly, "You think they'd let us keep this boat overnight?" That broke the tension and they both laughed.
"I doubt it," said Lauren. "And anyway, we're out far enough that we might find ourselves totally alone at sea by morning." She bit her lip suddenly, staring at Brian in disbelief. "I'd had plans with my friends this afternoon and I totally forgot about them. Oh my God." Her eyes widened and she smiled slowly. "If you have that kind of effect on me, then I think it'd be a shame to waste it, don't you?"
"I agree completely," Brian murmured, catching her chin between his thumb and two fingers and kissing her. What began as a soft, exploratory contact turned into something far more involved, and when they at last pulled apart, they were both breathing hard.
"Before your friends send out a search party for us, we better get back," Brian finally observed, clearly reluctant.
"Aw, let 'em send one," Lauren mumbled and pulled him in for another kiss. This one was shorter but somehow even hotter; Brian tugged away first and blew out his breath, grinning at her.
"I have no intention of leaving off here," he told her meaningfully, "but we really should get back. The sooner we do, the sooner we can find out where this is going."
The wind had died, so they lowered the sail and motored back to the marina. Lauren packed the remains of their meal into the basket while Brian manned the tiller, and within half an hour they had docked, checked in with the rental office, and were on their way back towards the interior of the island.
"Well, this is gonna sound like the stupidest thing you ever heard," Brian finally said, "but, uh…your place or mine? And before you answer that, you should know that I have to share a bungalow with my niece and my sisters."
"Then that kind of makes it academic, don't you think?" Lauren said, chuckling. "My place it is. I live just outside town here. Come on."