Roarke's Kingdom

“We’re on island time. No one’s interested in working at this hour.”

“You could try.”

“I already have.”

“Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to sit in my car and wait until—”

“Not until. If. The taxi company said they’d send a car; but I wouldn’t want to stake my life on it.”

She stared out at the docks. There were street lamps strung along its perimeter, but not all the bulbs had come on and the ones that had cast only faint, yellow beams of light. The parking area and the road where her disabled car lay abandoned were swathed in darkness.

A little shudder went through her. “The road’s not all that far,” she said with a great deal more enthusiasm than she felt. “A mile, perhaps.”

“It’s at least four miles to the highway. Surely not even you would be foolish enough to attempt that by yourself.”

“Look, Mr.—” His brows rose, and she swallowed. “Roarke,” she said. Actually, it was easier to call him that than to call him by the name of the man who’d sailed off on a cabin cruiser almost two hours ago. “As you said, it’s the present we have to deal with.”

He glared at her, and then he nodded his head reluctantly. “You’re right.”

“So if you’ve any suggestions…?”

“Only one.” He seemed to draw himself up before he spoke and Jennifer sensed that whatever he was about to say was distasteful to him. “You can come with me.”

She gaped at him. “On your boat?”

“Yes.”

“You mean, you’d take me back to San Juan? Oh, but I couldn’t let you do that. It’s—”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He turned away, leaned across the railing, and began hauling in a mooring line. “I’ll take you to Isla de la Pantera. From there, I can make arrangements to have you taken back to San Juan.”

“What is Isla de—de…?”

“…de la Pantera.” He hesitated. “It’s where I live.”

Jennifer’s eyes widened. She had spent the past two days doing everything but getting herself run over to learn his address, and now…

“Well?” He put his hands on his hips and looked at her. “Make up your mind, please, Miss Hamilton. Are you going with me or are you staying here?”

“How could I turn down such a hospitable invitation?” she said sweetly.

His eyes narrowed. “I take it that’s a ‘yes.’”

She smiled. “You take it right,” she said, and she sank down into the cockpit seat and looked placidly out to sea.

* * *

Jennifer swallowed carefully.

They’d been on the water for perhaps twenty minutes and her stomach felt as if it were somewhere in her throat, but at least she’d been able to stop herself from being sick all over the teak cockpit.

She cast a quick look at Roarke Campbell, standing with his back to her at the wheel. Somehow, she doubted if he’d much appreciate her losing her lunch all over his highly polished deck.

Not that she’d had much lunch hours ago in that little park. Still, her stomach was queasy. Worse than queasy. It rose and fell with each swell of the waves.

And her head. She lifted her hand and touched the bump on it lightly. The pain was steady now, beating in tempo with her heart.

. All in all, she felt absolutely rotten.