if he pulled her hair, but he let her go with a faint smile. "Poor Carolyn," he murmured. "I won't torment you any longer. Why don't we go see if there's a way to get you off this island so you don't have to spend another moment in my company?" It was as if the odd, breathless moment hadn't even existed. "If worse comes to worst maybe one of the guest houses will be open."
She couldn't do it. At that moment she couldn't willingly get back in the close confines of his car, breathing the same air he breathed, feeling his body heat envelope her. He had far too powerful an effect on her, and she needed physical distance, a few moments away from him to pull her tattered self-control back around herself. "You go ahead," she said. "I'll wait here."
He looked at her in surprise. "You trust me?"
"Not particularly. I just want a few minutes' peace."
He didn't argue. "I didn't come to disturb your peace, you know."
"Didn't you?"
"A thirty-one-year-old woman who's lived the life you've lived shouldn't be desperate for peace. You need unsettling."
"How do you know? Alexander MacDowell hasn't been around for eighteen years."
"I admit I'm curious. I asked."
"Who?"
"Ah, you want me to name my accomplice in crime," he said lightly. "Sorry, Carolyn, but I asked Sally why you were still dancing attendance on the lordly MacDowells ."
"And what did she say?"
"That you loved her. And that you were afraid of leaving, of living life out in the cruel, cold world."
"Sally doesn't know me as well as she thinks she does," Carolyn said with deceptive calm.
"Sally doesn't know anyone that well, including her own mind."
"Including her own son."
"You couldn't resist that, could you?" He was unoffended . "My mother is a woman of narrow vision and indomitable will. She knows just enough about the people who surround her to make them do exactly what she wants them to do. Anything beyond that is extraneous and she doesn't bother with it."
"Your filial devotion is inspiring."
"Maybe there was a reason I've been gone for eighteen years."
She wanted to scream at him, but she bit it back. One more minute in the darkened back parlor and she'd start hyperventilating, and she hadn't had a panic attack since she was twenty years old. She wasn't going to let a con man bring her back to that vulnerable state.
"I thought you were going to see if there's a way for me to get off this island," she reminded him with pointed calm.
"True enough. Let me just dump my bag before I go in search of a telephone. That way you can search through it if you get bored."
"I doubt you'd leave anything incriminating within my reach."
"Oh, you never can be too sure. Maybe I like to live life dangerously. Maybe I want you to find out the truth," he taunted her.
"And what is the truth?"
He didn't move any closer to her, didn't say a word. He didn't need to. His presence was powerful, intimidating, even from across the room. He simply smiled.
She searched the bag he dropped inside the front door. His clothes were good quality but well worn. He obviously hadn't invested in a new wardrobe as part of his impersonation scheme. He wore silk boxers, he shaved with a disposable razor, and he had a bottle of aspirin. He also had condoms.
She zipped up the bag, shoving it away from her in distaste. The jeans were American, the t-shirts French, the aspirin was actually paracetamol from England . He was as well traveled as he claimed to be. Or at least his possessions were.
She wandered toward the back of the house, through the dining room and butler's pantry to the large, old-fashioned kitchen. Constanza had steadfastly refused to let Sally refurbish it, insisting she liked the old ways. The heavy iron sink still stood separate, the aging refrigerator let out a soft hum. It took Carolyn a moment to realize just what that humming noise signified.
The refrigerator had been turned on and stocked. There was fresh fruit, coffee beans, heavy cream, and orange juice. And a
She couldn't do it. At that moment she couldn't willingly get back in the close confines of his car, breathing the same air he breathed, feeling his body heat envelope her. He had far too powerful an effect on her, and she needed physical distance, a few moments away from him to pull her tattered self-control back around herself. "You go ahead," she said. "I'll wait here."
He looked at her in surprise. "You trust me?"
"Not particularly. I just want a few minutes' peace."
He didn't argue. "I didn't come to disturb your peace, you know."
"Didn't you?"
"A thirty-one-year-old woman who's lived the life you've lived shouldn't be desperate for peace. You need unsettling."
"How do you know? Alexander MacDowell hasn't been around for eighteen years."
"I admit I'm curious. I asked."
"Who?"
"Ah, you want me to name my accomplice in crime," he said lightly. "Sorry, Carolyn, but I asked Sally why you were still dancing attendance on the lordly MacDowells ."
"And what did she say?"
"That you loved her. And that you were afraid of leaving, of living life out in the cruel, cold world."
"Sally doesn't know me as well as she thinks she does," Carolyn said with deceptive calm.
"Sally doesn't know anyone that well, including her own mind."
"Including her own son."
"You couldn't resist that, could you?" He was unoffended . "My mother is a woman of narrow vision and indomitable will. She knows just enough about the people who surround her to make them do exactly what she wants them to do. Anything beyond that is extraneous and she doesn't bother with it."
"Your filial devotion is inspiring."
"Maybe there was a reason I've been gone for eighteen years."
She wanted to scream at him, but she bit it back. One more minute in the darkened back parlor and she'd start hyperventilating, and she hadn't had a panic attack since she was twenty years old. She wasn't going to let a con man bring her back to that vulnerable state.
"I thought you were going to see if there's a way for me to get off this island," she reminded him with pointed calm.
"True enough. Let me just dump my bag before I go in search of a telephone. That way you can search through it if you get bored."
"I doubt you'd leave anything incriminating within my reach."
"Oh, you never can be too sure. Maybe I like to live life dangerously. Maybe I want you to find out the truth," he taunted her.
"And what is the truth?"
He didn't move any closer to her, didn't say a word. He didn't need to. His presence was powerful, intimidating, even from across the room. He simply smiled.
She searched the bag he dropped inside the front door. His clothes were good quality but well worn. He obviously hadn't invested in a new wardrobe as part of his impersonation scheme. He wore silk boxers, he shaved with a disposable razor, and he had a bottle of aspirin. He also had condoms.
She zipped up the bag, shoving it away from her in distaste. The jeans were American, the t-shirts French, the aspirin was actually paracetamol from England . He was as well traveled as he claimed to be. Or at least his possessions were.
She wandered toward the back of the house, through the dining room and butler's pantry to the large, old-fashioned kitchen. Constanza had steadfastly refused to let Sally refurbish it, insisting she liked the old ways. The heavy iron sink still stood separate, the aging refrigerator let out a soft hum. It took Carolyn a moment to realize just what that humming noise signified.
The refrigerator had been turned on and stocked. There was fresh fruit, coffee beans, heavy cream, and orange juice. And a
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