HAPPY HOLIDAYS ALL...Thanks alot for the reviews guys.OhNikitamjo in reference to your comment, i actually had a hard time trying to describe his character, i wanted to make him the playboy that you love, but hate all at the same time...took me a while but i got it. and Alena-Saso glad you liked it, thought it needed a lil humor in their so i placed in a personal experience that i had that involved a good friendof mine ;)

Here's chap 3 as promised…..I felt it was time to shake things up evil grin, so there are a few surprises in this chapter. I'm not gonna tell, you'll have to read to find out….

see previous chapter for disclaimers…

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Chapter 3

The next day, Serena watched from the window of her galley as Captain Mamou docked the Silver Cat at the Shields's private pier behind his Grand Cayman hideaway.

A blossom-scented sea breeze wafted through the window, and she inhaled the sweet air, feeling her spirits rise in spite of the strain of her secret.

She scanned the panorama before her. It was unlike any October day she could recall in her life. A white beach glistened as water, tinted azure in a noontime sun, lapped languidly across it. About thirty feet back from the sea, the scenery grew dense and tropical, exhibiting a wild profusion of green things growing in erratic and indecisive loveliness.

The wall of ferns and palm trees was broken in one spot by what appeared to be a narrow walkway made of broken shells. It was bordered on either side by red azaleas that spilled over onto the path that meandered out of sight into the equatorial shadows. Bent shanks of hundred of palms, red mangrove and wild bamboo guarded any evidence that a house existed within its lush custody, and Serena, even as nervous as she was, became curious about what lurked within the hushed forest.

There was a hustle and bustle outside her galley window as Andrew and a couple other members of the crew tied up the yacht. Serena turned away from the window and scanned the galley. It sparkled. There was not a single thing left to do. She began to wonder how she'd keep occupied while they were docked. One of the more gossipy stewardesses and Serena's newest friend, twenty two year old Mina Aino, had said the Grand Cayman house was kept staffed year-round, so there would be little for the Silver Cat's crew to do while they were tied up.

Serena wasn't pleased about that. She needed to keep herself occupied so her thoughts wouldn't be tormented every minute by the fact that Mikou's life was ticking away while she stood idle, doing nothing to help his reputation.

Mina had also told her this island house had been in the Shields's family for over thirty years. She doubted there would be any business files or books stored here, but she vowed she'd keep her eyes and ears open. If she was lucky, maybe the trip wouldn't be a total waste of time.

With a sigh, she realized she might as well go ashore. At her first opportunity she'd ask Mr. Shields if she could help with the cooking in the main house. That would be better than doing nothing, she supposed.

When she reached the foyer that led to the deck, she heard a door open, and reflexively turned. There stood Darien, just leaving his office. He was clad in white cotton pants and a white polo shirt that made his dark hair seem even more dazzling than usual. The striking visual feast gave her a pause, she tried to hide that fact.

He watched her thoughtfully for a moment, before he acknowledged her with a brief nod. She nodded, too, not sure what else she might be expected to do. Applaud! Kiss his ring? Why did one simple glance from him make her so nervous and unsure of herself? She felt antsy needing to move, do something, she stuffed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Patting the strand into place, she decided to take the initiative. If she wanted to be busy to keep her mind off—things—this was as good a time as any to ask. "Mr. Shields, I've been wondering what you expect of me while we're on Grand Cayman?"

He indicated the exit. "Why don't we walk while we talk," he remarked, startling her.

"Oh, I—don't mean to be a bother if you're in a hurry," she demurred.

A tired smile tipped on corner of his mouth. "I'm in no great hurry."

He surprised her again by holding the door for her. She stepped out onto the yacht's sunny deck, then preceded him down the metal gangway. They didn't speak again until they trod the entire length of the fifty-foot dock and were descending the stone steps to the beach.

"It's lovely," she observed out loud, finding the boundless beauty of the place required an open admiration.

"I hadn't noticed." His voice had been low and seemed vaguely trouble.

She peered at him. "How could you not notice? It's like heaven."

"It was my parents' home."

After a tense pause, she asked, "You didn't live here with them?"

"Not long." He nodded toward the path. "This way."

She watched him covertly as he strode toward the walkway. He hadn't lived with his family long? "Did you visit—"

"No," he cut in, his shortness implying the subject was off-limits.

It was clear he wasn't happy. She didn't know if his troubled expression was because he didn't like the place and its memories, or if he was merely anticipating trouble with his board meeting. "Ms. Tsukino," he added less sternly. "In answer to you initial question. The staff here is quite complex. Why don't you consider this week a paid vacation."

She couldn't think of a thing to say. She knew he would expect her to be grateful. Most employees would be thrilled to be given a vacation with pay in a tropical paradise like this. But she was immediately filled with gloom. Though she offered a wan smile in answer, to her this so-called vacation would be just one more squandered week where she would be unable to get at those all-important company books. "That's great," she managed, swallowing to ease the prickly dryness of frustration in her throat.

They stepped onto the path of shells. It made a pleasant crunching sound with their tread, but was so narrow that Serena had to precede Darien. She squinted, trying to adjust her eyes to the dimness.

There was a rustling, and she ducked, fearful. "What was that?"

"Parrots," Darien said. "Look. There." He indicated the direction of the dock. Through the spread fingers of palmettos she watched as two dark blue birds, their color very much like Darien's eyes, winged away along the beach. "There are hummingbirds along the path, too, so don't faint if you run into a swarm of them. They're harmless."

Her eyes were adjusting now, and she peered at him, peeved at his patronizing tone. "Thanks for the warning," she mumbled, her jaws tight.

"By your tone, Ms. Tsukino, I assume you believe I was being condescending," he said offering a token smile. "I apologize."

He'd sounded more preoccupied than contrite, making her doubt that he cared all that much. Though she forced herself to smile back, she had a rebellious urge to suggest that he couldn't help being condescending, being the smug, self-important tyrant that he was, but she restrained herself. "Forget it," she muttered. Turning away, she decided to ignore him and began to inspect the cool retreat through which she walked.

After a quiet moment of ambling along the path that wound around between the curved shanks of giant palms, she smiled a genuine smile at the unstudied beauty of the tunnel-like pathway. Gazing upward, high in the feathery branches of the tropical trees, everything was in motion. As she gazed at nature's rustling dance, she found herself somewhat calmed by the unspoiled loveliness. "Why—it's so wonderful. I've never seen anyplace so—so peaceful."

"A matter of opinion, I suppose," he replied, surprising her with his closeness. She hadn't realized she'd halted, blocking the path. Feeling flushed, and unsure why, she scurried on.

Farther along, the sky brightened, and Serena realized they were reaching a manicured lawn. The crunchy walkway exited the jungle flora and brought them bit by bit into courtly civilization through a bright tangle of roses, camellia, periwinkle, thick ferns and cleverly placed boulders. Hummingbirds flitted about the multitude of blossoms, looking like playful storybook fairies.

At the path's end, Serena halted. Beyond the garden, a pair of ancient sea grape trees framed a view of a long, low house, its architecture hinting of both Italy and Southern California, Scarlet bougainvillea scaled its mellowed stone walls and clambered along the red slate roof.

Nestled in artfully landscaped wide-leafed foliage, the house's rear façade showcased a shaded, airy terrace, its square columns choked with vining roses. An oval swimming pool, tranquil and mirror-like, was to the left of the terrace. Camellia, jasmine and white azaleas bordered a tunnel-shaped, latticework pergola that lined the residence on that side, keeping the forest from encroaching onto the lawn.

On the other side of the house, the lawn, dotted with huge, bowed palms interspersed with decorative mango and almond trees, ran for quite some distance before a stone wall separated it from neighboring jungle-like foliage that would engulf everything left to itself.

This was the sort of heavenly solitude Serena had only dreamed existed. She couldn't imagine anyone having the good fortune to live in a place like this. Turning a stunned expression on Darien, she whispered, "How could you dislike such a beautiful place?"

He half smile, but it wasn't a happy expression. Taking her arm, he said, "It must be nice to be so naïve, Ms. Tsukino."

She stared at him as he turned her toward the house. She had a sudden flash, a realization. Unable to help herself, she asked, "This is where your family died, isn't it?"

He stiffened, turning toward her. Something flashed in his eyes, but it came and went so rapidly she couldn't guess what the dark emotion was—hatred? Pain? Anger? With nostrils flaring, he warned harshly, "I will not tolerate these continued intrusions into my personal life, Ms. Tsukino."

His fingers tightened around her arm in his irritation and she swallowed, recognizing she'd gone to far. His family's problems were none of her business. Feeling badly for blurting such a personal question, she said, "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Shie—"

"Did you have any other questions—about your duties while you're here?" he cut in, his tone ominous.

It was clear he didn't intend to discuss the matter, even if it was only to accept her apology. She took his unspoken direction. "Where will the crew be staying, sir?" she murmured.

"Mrs. Brownly, my housekeeper, will—"

"Messy Miss!" came a hoarse cry, drawing both Serena's and Darien's attention. Hearing her grandpa Aquino's pet name for her, she swirled around toward the sound to see movement on the shadowed terrace. It couldn't be her grandfather! But nobody else in the world had ever called her that name. gulping back the bitter bile of looming discovery, she could only stare in stark panic. Please! Please say it isn't so! she prayed silently. He can't be here. He's too sick—too deathly ill! This will kill him!

Serena's heart dropped as she watched the unthinkable happen—a familiar, thin image was tottering toward her, leaning heavily on a cane. Even in the deep shadows she recognized her grandfather's kindly, gaunt face, hawk nose, and the sheen of his balding pate. Serena cast Darien an apprehensive look. He, too, was watching her grandfather's labored approach.

"Messy Miss?" Darien asked. "Obviously the man knows your style of cooking, but who is he?"

Serena gulped hard. All she needed now was her boss's sarcasm. "It's my grandfather," she whispered.

"I thought you said your grandfather was in a rest home."

Mikou beckoned feebly. "Come—come here, Serena. Give your old man a hug," he rasped. "And you, too, Darien, my boy. Let me hug my brand-new son-in-law."

The blood drained from Serena's face. She twisted toward her employer, sure he could read the panic in her eyes. Grasping both his hands in hers, she pleaded under her breath, "Mr. Shields, I can explain. Before you say anything, please go along. My grandfather thinks we're married. He's very ill, and any shock could kill him!"

Incredulous blue eyes impaled her. "He thinks we're what?" Just moments ago he'd made it clear that he didn't tolerate intrusions into his personal life. By his brutal expression, she sensed he felt exceedingly intruded upon right now.

Towering over her as he was, Serena felt about two inches tall. If he'd wanted to, he could have reached out and strangled her with one hand. His hard-edged expression told her he was considering it.

"Please!" she cried under her breath. "I'll get him on the first plane out of here! Just—go along for a few minutes!"

He flashed a quick glance over her shoulder toward the old man. "Ms. Tsukino, are you nuts?"

"Probably." There was no time to argue or defend herself. She begged, "Quick, put you arm around me and wave."

Darien's expression was a mixture of disbelief, rage and frustration. "Why in hell would you tell him we're married?"

"Could you please save the inquisition until later?" she asked plaintively. Her heart hammered. Every second Mikou was struggling closer to them. Though they were at least thirty feet from the terrace, and well out of earshot, she knew she only had seconds to get Darien to help her, or the game—her scheme—was up.

He'd clamped his jaws tight, making his cheek muscles stand out. Clearly he was far from won over.

"I promise he'll be out of here on the very next plane."

His expression was disapproving, but with one more glance at her grandfather, he seemed to relent slightly. "The next plane?" he demanded through gritted teeth.

She nodded, experiencing a flood of hope. Smiling and waving for the benefit of her grandfather, she asided, "Please put your arm around me, Mr. Shields." Louder, she called, "Grandpa. What a nice surprise."

She quickened her stop across the lawn, not wanting Mikou to overtire himself. It startled her when an arm encircled her shoulder. A quick peek from the corner of her eye confirmed that Darien was going along. He was even waving.

"Thank you," she whispered, truly grateful. Even though she'd practically blackmailed him with images of her grandfather dropping dead on the lawn, she hadn't expected this much cooperation. She didn't even dare think about what she'd expected.

"What the hell is his name?" Darien demanded through a fake grin.

"Just call him Grandpa," she said, not sure if the name Mikou would set off any warning bells in his brain or not, since her grandfather had been fired before Darien's birth.

If she could scoot her grandfather onto the first plane back to the States, she could still pull off her plan with nobody the wiser. Of course, Darien might fire her just for lying about being married to him. But she couldn't worry about that now. Her grandfather's health had to come first.

"Grandpa," she cried when she reached the terrace's edge. "I can't believe you're here." She hugged his frail shoulders, and he hugged her back. She inhaled the familiar scent of his inexpensive, musky aftershave. It was comforting. She wished she could have spent more time with him these past months, but the rest home was expensive, so she'd had to work. "What were you thinking, coming all this way?" she reprimanded softly.

He let her go and kissed her cheek, then turned to look up at Darien, his old, brown eyes twinkling. "Serena—honey," he said through labored breaths. "Ever since you told me—about marrying this young buck, I've just felt better and better." He reached for Darien. "Let's have a hug—my boy."

Serena stepped back, clasping nervous hands together as Darien allowed himself to be embraced by this total stranger.

He gave her a sidelong frown as he said, "It's good to meet you—Grandpa."

"It's like a dream come true, son." Mikou patted Darien's powerful back as he clung to him for support.

Darien's frown deepened, his sharp gaze resting on Serena. "I'm happy you're feeling better."

Oh, dear! Serena realized any second now Mikou would say something about Darien's grandfather, Damon, and her world would come crashing down around her. In a last-ditch effort to save her plan, her lie, and her grandfather's health, she interjected, " Uh—Grandpa—Mr.—er—Darien has to—to make an important call. And you need to rest." She peeled his thin arms from her pseudo-husband, and pasted on a grin. "Why don't we let him make that call, and you and I can talk."

Biting nervously at her lip, she gestured toward the house with her head and shot Darien a please go away! Look.

He gave her another accusing glance, then with a surprisingly believable smile, nodded toward Mikou. "I'd better make that important call—Grandpa." Startling Serena, he bend to brush his lips lightly across hers, murmuring," Darling…" As he lifted his mouth away, he muttered near her ear, "Get him out of here."

The last flight out of Grand Cayman was at nine that night. An eternity away. Serena had been relieved to discover that all he'd told the housekeeper when he'd arrived was that he had a "big surprise" for Mr. Shields. She supposed she shouldn't be all that amazed that the housekeeper had let him in. Mikou was such a sweet, irresistible old man. Still, she couldn't believe her luck that he hadn't mentioned anything about "Mr. and Mrs. Shields." But that had only been a temporary reprieve.

She was beside herself about how to keep Mikou away from everybody, especially Darien. There was no way Grandpa could be with Darien for five minutes without saying something incriminating.

She'd taken him out and sat with him on the beach for a while, then talked him into a nice, long nap before dinner. But what was she going to do about dinner? He was sure to assume, as the grandfather of Darien's wife, he'd be expected to eat with them.

Serena had been so upset by her grandfather's disturbing appearance, she hadn't brought her bags to shore, hadn't consulted Mrs. Brownly, the housekeeper, about her accommodations, hadn't taken off souvenir shopping with the rest of the Silver Cat's crew. She merely lurked near the guest room Mrs. Brownly had given to her grandfather for his nap, fearful that if she left even for a short time, he'd wake up, wander around and get himself—and her—into irreparable trouble.

So, she skulked in the sleek, white stucco hall. After a while, afraid her pacing might attract undue attention from servants, she perched on a long, contemporary rush bench, tapping her foot fretfully on the black granite floor, pretending to admire several abstract paintings that hung along the hallway wall—bright splashes of color cavorting across the canvas, giving a liveliness to the stark walls. In reality she wasn't so much into the art as she was stealthily watching the second hand on her wristwatch mark the slow passing of time. There were six grueling hours left until the next flight back to Miami.

"Ms. Tsukino," came a very distinctive voice of Darien Shields.

She jerked around to see him standing not far away and automatically jumped up to stand. "Yes, sir?"

He leaned against the wall, eyeing her dubiously. "I think you know what we need to discuss."

A chill of apprehension skittered along her spine. "Yes, sir, I think—I do." She eyed the door to the room where her grandfather napped, worrying the inside of her cheek. "It's just that I don't think I should go very far away—in case he should get up and decide to wander around."

Darien indicated the glass patio doors at his back. "You can watch from out there."

She had to agree. They'd have privacy as well as a view of the hallway. Dreading this conversation, she headed toward the patio. Darien fell into step beside her. When they reached the doors, he opened one for her to precede him. She felt a bit grudging about it. Why was he bothering to act the gentleman when he was just about to give her the ax? Did he think he was being kind? On the contrary, he was just out her anguish.

After they'd reached the cool, shaded patio, he indicated a seating area of redwood furniture covered in off-white linen. She took a seat at one end of the sofa while he sat down in an armchair positioned at a right angle to her. She had a hard time looking directly at him, so she focused on the rustic redwood coffee table before her. A large stone bowl in its center contained a gorgeous, red-blossomed tropical plant.

"Ms. Tsukino," he began, "what you've done is quite serious."

She cast him a pained look. "I know that, sir."

He eyed her quizzically. "Why in heaven's name did you tell your grandfather such a lie?"

She squirmed, casting her glance away. It was very quiet, she realized, except for the constant twitter of birds. It seemed that winged creatures were everywhere, happily darting, calling and chattering, probably even gossiping about foolish young chefs who were on the verge of being fired. She had the absurd feeling they were gathering to get a better look.

"Why me, Ms. Tsukino?" he asked, drawing her back. "Why didn't you tell your grandfather you'd married one of those blonde men you prefer?"

He sat forward, intertwining his fingers, and merely looking at her, not appearing particularly bloodthirsty. Maybe she still had a chance to keep her job. She just had to come up with a believable story and play on his compassion. By going along with her lie earlier, he'd done a very compassionate thing, proving he wasn't totally immune to compassion—at least when it came to the idea of elderly men dropping dead in front of him.

She decided to give one more little fabrication a try. "I—I lied because Grandpa, er, wanted to see me married and happy before he died. So, I guess—I just—" she shrugged finishing sheepishly "—I picked you, since I was working for you and all." Her cheeks burned. Oh, how she wished she'd never even started this charade. It seemed to be getting worse and worse by the minute. If only he'd swallow this last little fib!

He sat back, seeming to consider what she'd said. When he faced her again, he asked, "What's wrong with you grandfather?"

She sighed, despondent to be reminded of her grandfather's fragile health. "The doctor said he's just wearing out, giving up. He's had a—a hard life."

"I see." He scanned her face. "I'm sorry."

She was startled by his sympathy and wondered if it was genuine. "Thank you," she murmured.

"So, you're going to send him back and allow him to pass away believing we're married?"

She winced at his disapproving tone. "I didn't want him to worry about me," she objected. "I didn't think it would hurt."

"I appreciate your motives, Ms. Tsukino. But you must understand, I can't allow my employees to make a practice of telling sickly relatives I've married them merely to ease their passing."

Dread, swift and hot, raced through her. Here it came. He was firing her after all.

Just then she heard a noise and glanced beyond the glass doors to see Mikou emerging from his room. "Oh, no," she moaned, jumping up. "It's Grandpa." Panicked, she looked down at her boss. "What should we do?"

He flicked a look toward the doors in time to see Mikou spot them. Turning back to Serena, he asked, "How long have we been married?"

She shrugged. "A couple of weeks."

He absorbed the information, looking exasperated. Surprising her, he took her hand and pulled her into his lap. "Then we'd be on our honeymoon."

She fell onto his thighs, able to do nothing more than stare at him.

"Which would you prefer," he asked, "that I kiss you or just a gaze lovingly into your eyes?"

She found herself intensely aware of his sinuous maleness, so vital and warm beneath her hips. His scent filled her senses and his alluring blue eyes, even narrowed with aggravation, made her heart race strangely. "Uh—I guess a loving look will do…" she said, her voice strained.

He encircled her waist with his arms, leaned close, his expression going gentle. The smoldering flame she saw spark to life in his eyes flabbergasted her. "How's this?" he queried near her mouth.

Even knowing this was a fake seduction, she experienced and unwelcome surge of attraction for him, and it took all her willpower to keep from moving that last inch to touch his lips with hers. "It's—it's just fine—sir…" She had to force herself to turn and make sure he grandfather was making it okay. The smile she had commanded to her lips froze and then faded. "Oh—dear…" She breathed in a moan as Aunt Jeannie joined Mikou just beyond the doors. While she helplessly stared, the elderly woman hugged the old man and a host of strangers joined them.

Serena opened her mouth to try to make some sense out of this turn of events, but didn't have the time. The door was pushed open as the crowd spilled onto to patio. Aunt Jeannie trilled, "What a wonderful surprise! To discover that my naughty grandnephew as gone and married my kitchen angel behind my back!"

Darien twisted around.

"Who are those people?" Serena cried under her breath, horrified to be caught in Darien's lap.

He cursed under his breath. "It's my damned board of directors. The company plane must have arrived early."

She started to scramble up, but he held her fast. "Too late, Ms. Tsukino," he muttered near her ear, suddenly grinning. She knew the expression was just as phony as his seductive look a moment ago, and she was confused.

"Why?" she asked.

"Save the inquisition for later, dear," he warned, his tone grim.

She met his flinty gaze and her heart began to thud. What did that look mean? Before she had a chance to analyze or question it, he crushed her against his chest and kissed her so passionately she felt the earth stumble dangerously on its axis then explode into millions of lovely, fiery fragments.

That's all for now….i have chapter 4 just gotta take my ideas off the paper and out of my head and type them up….it should be up by Saturday the latest. For now, just tell me what you think so far. peace out