behind him. Waves of disappointment rushed through her. She was faced with the humiliating possibility that she had goaded him deliberately, expecting the retaliation of an embrace. She slumped into the desk chair and buried her face in her hands. The tea was lukewarm before she got around to drinking it.
After dinner that evening, Julie sat in the living room with Emily, painfully conscious of Ruel's presence. It was a strain to concentrate on what Emily was saying and appear interested, but she tried.
"You look pale, Julie," the woman observed. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Fine," she insisted with a tense smile. The narrowed glance of skepticism she received made her add, "I have a slight headache, that's all."
"Ruel mentioned to Malia that you were caught in the shower this afternoon. Maybe you're coming down with something," Emily suggested.
"I don't think so," Julie denied. "It's just a common headache, not the common cold."
"Perhaps some fresh air will help it," said Ruel. He stood beside the French doors that led onto the ground floor lanai. "It isn't raining anymore. Why not take a short stroll outside?"
"Yes, I think that's a good idea," she agreed eagerly, glad to escape the stifling atmosphere of the house.
Rising from the sofa, she crossed the room to the double doors Ruel held open for her. It wasn't until she had stepped onto the veranda mat she realized he intended to accompany her, and she glanced back into the room at Emily. There was nothing in the woman's expression to indicate that she found anything wrong with the situation.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Julie said, "I want to apologize for what I said and the way I behaved today. You didn't deserve it, and I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted," he acknowledged simply and with an air of diffidence. "Although it doesn't solve our problem, does it?"
Her gaze skittered away, not quite able to meet his look sideways. "Problem? I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" The rejoinder was aloofly amused.
"No, I'm afraid I don't know," Julie insisted, continuing to walk straight ahead. She was glad of the darkness and its concealing shadows.
The touch of Ruel's hand on her waist halted her. Applying slight pressure, he turned her to face him. She forced herself to breathe evenly and not pay any attention to the fluttering of her pulse. As long as his touch remained impersonal, she wasn't going to make a fool of herself by resisting.
"Pretending hasn't made it go away, Kulie," he said.
His hands lightly spanned her waist without making any attempt to lessen the distance between them. Julie felt herself becoming putty in his hands and pivoted away from him while she still had some backbone. Ruel let her turn away, but he didn't release her.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she repeated. "What was that you called me?"
"Kulie. That's your name in Hawaiian," Ruel answered.
"How fascinating." There was a faint tremor in her voice as she attempted to change the subject. "What is yours?"
"It's an old family name. Ruel doesn't have an equivalent in Hawaiian." Patience seemed to dominate his answer.
"I see," she murmured.
"We're going to have to come up with another solution for our problem," Ruel reverted to his earlier discussion.
An odd weakness attacked her knees. "As far as I'm concerned, we don't have a problem, Mr. Chandler." She took a quick step forward, moving out of his unresisting hold. Warily she stayed out of his reach. "If you'll excuse me, I have some letters to write." She started toward the outside set of stairs that led to the upper lanai and her bedroom. "Good night."
"Running isn't the answer, Julie." His voice carried quietly to her, but he didn't try to stop her. "You'll have to face it sooner or later."
Julie infinitely preferred later. Tonight she couldn't cope with the potency of his attraction. She certainly couldn't be as calm and reasonable about it as Ruel sounded.
The French doors to her bedroom were
After dinner that evening, Julie sat in the living room with Emily, painfully conscious of Ruel's presence. It was a strain to concentrate on what Emily was saying and appear interested, but she tried.
"You look pale, Julie," the woman observed. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Fine," she insisted with a tense smile. The narrowed glance of skepticism she received made her add, "I have a slight headache, that's all."
"Ruel mentioned to Malia that you were caught in the shower this afternoon. Maybe you're coming down with something," Emily suggested.
"I don't think so," Julie denied. "It's just a common headache, not the common cold."
"Perhaps some fresh air will help it," said Ruel. He stood beside the French doors that led onto the ground floor lanai. "It isn't raining anymore. Why not take a short stroll outside?"
"Yes, I think that's a good idea," she agreed eagerly, glad to escape the stifling atmosphere of the house.
Rising from the sofa, she crossed the room to the double doors Ruel held open for her. It wasn't until she had stepped onto the veranda mat she realized he intended to accompany her, and she glanced back into the room at Emily. There was nothing in the woman's expression to indicate that she found anything wrong with the situation.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Julie said, "I want to apologize for what I said and the way I behaved today. You didn't deserve it, and I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted," he acknowledged simply and with an air of diffidence. "Although it doesn't solve our problem, does it?"
Her gaze skittered away, not quite able to meet his look sideways. "Problem? I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" The rejoinder was aloofly amused.
"No, I'm afraid I don't know," Julie insisted, continuing to walk straight ahead. She was glad of the darkness and its concealing shadows.
The touch of Ruel's hand on her waist halted her. Applying slight pressure, he turned her to face him. She forced herself to breathe evenly and not pay any attention to the fluttering of her pulse. As long as his touch remained impersonal, she wasn't going to make a fool of herself by resisting.
"Pretending hasn't made it go away, Kulie," he said.
His hands lightly spanned her waist without making any attempt to lessen the distance between them. Julie felt herself becoming putty in his hands and pivoted away from him while she still had some backbone. Ruel let her turn away, but he didn't release her.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she repeated. "What was that you called me?"
"Kulie. That's your name in Hawaiian," Ruel answered.
"How fascinating." There was a faint tremor in her voice as she attempted to change the subject. "What is yours?"
"It's an old family name. Ruel doesn't have an equivalent in Hawaiian." Patience seemed to dominate his answer.
"I see," she murmured.
"We're going to have to come up with another solution for our problem," Ruel reverted to his earlier discussion.
An odd weakness attacked her knees. "As far as I'm concerned, we don't have a problem, Mr. Chandler." She took a quick step forward, moving out of his unresisting hold. Warily she stayed out of his reach. "If you'll excuse me, I have some letters to write." She started toward the outside set of stairs that led to the upper lanai and her bedroom. "Good night."
"Running isn't the answer, Julie." His voice carried quietly to her, but he didn't try to stop her. "You'll have to face it sooner or later."
Julie infinitely preferred later. Tonight she couldn't cope with the potency of his attraction. She certainly couldn't be as calm and reasonable about it as Ruel sounded.
The French doors to her bedroom were
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