Provocative Peril Read Free

whether the advertising pictures were accurate. They were. A sunken tub large enough for four adults took pride of place, still leaving room for a long marble vanity containing double sinks. She whirled around and dashed to the top of the stairs. Clay stood in front of the fireplace and glanced up when she appeared. "Do you think it's going to be satisfactory?"
    She grinned. "I think it's going to be perfect." Trying to regain some of the dignity she seemed to have misplaced somewhere back in the lobby, she descended the steps. "It really is most gracious of you to be willing to share with me." She glanced over at the large couch. "This is the sofa where I'll sleep, right?"
    "Wrong," he answered in a gentle tone. "This is the sofa where I'll sleep. You'll have the bed upstairs."
    "Oh, no! I couldn't do that. You shouldn't have to give up your bed. That's not fair."
    He stood watching her, noting the transformation from the regal young lady who'd eyed him with such disfavor in the lobby a few hours before. Would the real Carolyn Kenniwick please stand up? "Carolyn, I sleep only a few hours a night," he explained in a patient voice. "I'm usually up and gone long before daylight." He walked over to the sliding door and opened it, the fresh salt smell of the ocean suddenly filling the room. Glancing over his shoulder, he added, "There's no reason for you to sleep down here where my nocturnal wanderings might disturb you, when you can have the privacy of the upstairs." He turned and gazed around the room. "Think about it for a moment. Where would you keep your clothes?"
    She followed his gaze as he took in the occasional chair and large coffee table, but no dresser of any kind. Then she walked over to the kitchen and noted that, although small, it was fully furnished. She spotted a second bathroom, which included a shower. "I suppose you're right. That would be more sensible."
    "Fine. Glad you approve. Now, why don't we get ready and I'll escort you to dinner?"
    Her head jerked around, a look of horror on her face. "Oh, no. You can't do that!"
    Clay was at the door sorting through the various pieces of luggage that had been left in the room earlier; he straightened at her panicked tone.
    "You don't eat?" he inquired with interest.
    She could feel the heat suffuse her face. "Of course I eat," she answered with disgust. "It's just that ... I mean you've already done so much that ..." She waved her hand helplessly, then noticed what he was doing. Relieved to have something to do she took her suitcase and started for the stairway. "I'm already indebted to you for letting me stay here. I don't want to take up your time as well."
    She came back down the stairs to find Clay leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his broad chest. "I see ... I think," he murmured, wondering at her heightened color.
    Where was her dignity, her calm demeanor when she needed it? Having never been in such a position, she had no experience to draw on. She gave him a tentative smile as she stood by her second suitcase. "I think it would be better if we each went our own way. I don't want to impinge on your freedom."
    He grinned. "Oh, now I understand. You don't want me to cramp your style."
    "No! I mean, that's not what I mean. You're deliberately trying to misunderstand me."
    "All right," he said hastily, his hand up in a gesture of peace. "We'll lead separate lives and our only point of contact will be the shared space. Is that what you want?"
    She nodded vigorously. "Yes. I think that will work out best."
    He shrugged as he moved away from the wall. "Fine with me." He stopped as he opened the door. "Make yourself at home. In this case, I suppose the Spanish proverb is appropriate: My house is your house."
    He closed the door quietly behind him.

Chapter 2

    The Tropicana Royale fulfilled Carolyn's fantasies in a most delightful manner. It provided more facilities for its guests than she'd imagined. In addition to both an indoor and an outdoor