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Serpent In Paradise
By Jayne Krentz Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.
Copyright © 2004 Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.
All right reserved. ISBN: 0-373-77016-2
Chapter One
She was not at all the sort of woman with whom he wanted to have an affair.
Jase Lassiter lounged quietly in the shadowy depths of the huge curving rattan chair and watched her through slightly narrowed eyes. She was seated on the other side of the tavern's open-air terrace, near the railing. Partially obscured by the overarching back of her chair, she watched every man who came into the bar with a strange, tense expectancy that faded in moments when he failed to approach her table.
She's waiting for someone, Lassiter thought, a man. He was vaguely aware of an unaccountable unease at the thought. Any man? Or one special man? Here on Saint Clair she must be several thousand miles from home, and she looked it. Out of place, he told himself. A tourist whose South Pacific vacation was not living up to the promises in the travel agency brochure? Or a woman who had arranged to meet a lover on a clandestine vacation in the tropics?
That last possibility seemed to fit the circumstances. It would explain the tense expectancy in her as she surveyed each new arrival at The Serpent. It would explain why she had come alone to a bar frequented mainly by locals and a scattering of knowledgeable tourists, who were just beginning to discover Saint Clair. It explained alot of things about her.
So why didn't he like the explanation?
Jase's mouth twisted wryly as he reached for the rum in front of him. The sardonic grimace was almost out of character for him. Any unnecessary gesture or movement was out of character. There was a certain waiting quality about Jase Lassiter - a vast stillness in him that seemed to come from his depths.
There was nothing quiet or calm about the woman who had emerged out of the warm tropical night to choose a secluded seat in his bar. She was tense, nervous, restless and very vulnerable.
Not at all the sort of female he would normally choose to go to bed with him. So why couldn't he take his eyes off her?
Perhaps he'd been on Saint Clair a little too long. A nagging sense of deterioration nibbled at the edges of his consciousness, and he ruthlessly shoved it aside. It wasn't that he'd been in the tropics too long, Jase decided grimly; he'd simply been too long without a woman. He took another swallow of the rum.
But she wasn't the right sort! He needed a sophisticated, rather jaded jet-setting traveler who would view a few nights in his bed as an interesting, faintly amusing souvenir of her trip. Much more fun to discuss when she got back home than a collection of sea shells. The sort of tourist who found Saint Clair usually fit into the right category. The island was far enough off the beaten path to discourage the average middle-class tourist for whom a South Seas vacation was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Instead, in addition to the occasional US Navy ship, a collection of expatriates and the usual flotsam and jetsam that wound up in such South Seas ports, Saint Clair tended to attract a small group of world-weary tourists looking for Eden.
The visitors usually didn't stay long, but while they were there, a few could be counted upon to search out The Serpent, a flourishing oasis in the somewhat scruffy paradise of Saint Clair. And among those who turned up in the nightclub, Jase could sometimes find what he needed.
But not tonight. Tonight he found himself strangely intrigued by a woman who should have been safely home in the States, supervising a couple of kids and a devoted husband. Precisely the wrong sort of woman, Jase told himself once more as he took another sip of the rum. Then, again, she was in precisely the wrong sort of place.
Where was the man for whom she was so obviously waiting? In spite of himself he found his eyes following her quick, expectant gaze as she watched the entrance. What would he be like, this man she had come so far to meet? What would it be like to be the man who could satisfy that sense of anticipation in her, the one who could soothe that vulnerable, high-strung temperament?
"I'm a fool," Jase muttered a little savagely to himself as he got to his feet and reached down to collect the glass of rum he had been drinking. This was what came from doing without a woman too long, he decided laconically as he moved slowly across the room toward the table occupied by the lady tourist. Doing without for too long made a man do foolish things - like introduce himself to the kind of female who would undoubtedly tell him to go straight to hell.
On the other hand, he thought wryly, she was on his territory and she had managed to pique a sense of curiosity he would have sworn was quite dead. For having been guilty of intriguing him, she deserved the consequences of figuring out how to deal with him when he approached her. It might be interesting to see how she managed that.
It was going to be amusing to see if that look of expectancy came into her eyes as he came close; even more amusing to see how long it lasted. Jase watched what he could see of her profile as he made his way toward her table. She wasn't aware of him, her whole attention focused on the entrance to the bar.
Again the question sizzled through his brain. Was she waiting for a special man? Or just any man? If the latter was the case, why not him? Perhaps she was, after all, merely a fast-lane tourist looking for some tropical action. If she was only searching for a little adventure, perhaps he could persuade her to let him try to provide whatever it was she sought. God knows, I need something myself; he thought, and then experienced a flicker of self-disgust. Was he actually starting to feel sorry for himself? Ridiculous. There was a cure for what ailed a man at times like this. He wondered if the woman across the room would be willing to provide it.
She didn't see him until he was almost upon the little table. When her peripheral vision belatedly registered the man's presence, Amy Shannon reacted with a flinch of startled surprise, and as anyone who knew her could have predicted, disaster ensued.
The nearly full wineglass that had been resting near her right hand toppled over as her fingers bumped into it. The burgundy that The Serpent served as its house wine ran in a small wave across the surface of the polished wooden table and cascaded over the far edge.
Amy watched the entire process with fatalistic acceptance.
"I'm sorry," the man drawled softly in a voice as dark and rich as good sherry. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"Then you shouldn't sneak up on people," Amy retorted, more as a matter of form than anything else. Automatically she began dabbing rather uselessly at the spilled wine with the tiny napkin that had accompanied the glass.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Serpent In Paradise by Jayne Krentz Copyright © 2004 by Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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