Jamys inspected the shelves. “There is one subject missing.”
“I read a lot of dark fantasy.” She looked for her favorite authors, and saw several who were not represented at all. A shiver ran through her as she realized why. “I don’t see any vampire books.”
“Nor do I.” He replaced the novel on the shelf. “Perhaps we should check the remainder of the premises.”
“Maybe he doesn’t like vampire fiction,” she reasoned as they walked through the rest of the rooms on the first floor. “Not everyone does. Sam can’t stand it.”
The open layout of the house flowed with soft tropical colors, airy spaces, and translucent fixtures fashioned from ordinary glass objects. As Chris admired the dining room table, made from a sheet of frosted, bubbled glass over a layer of vertically standing driftwood boughs fitted together like puzzle pieces, Jamys investigated the adjoining rooms. She looked over at the massive tapestry of intricately woven cloth hanging across from the table, which at first glance looked no more interesting than a bedsheet in need of ironing. When she moved closer, she discovered that what she had assumed was painted linen was actually made of metal.
Not metal. She trailed her fingers over the tiny strands of the weave. Gold. She tried to lift the edge to see the back of it, but it weighed so much she could barely shift it. If it had been made from real gold, and she’d bet her next twelve paychecks that it had, the tapestry could be worth millions.
Jamys reappeared. “Are you hungry?”
“I’m not crazy about coconuts,” she admitted, “but I can get something from the boat later.”
He held out his hand. “Come and see the kitchen first.”
The brand-new kitchen, as it turned out, had been outfitted with every appliance and convenience Chris could want. The fridge had been stuffed with fresh vegetables, fruits, and meat, and more nonperishables crowded every shelf of the peroba cabinets.
There was enough food, Chris thought, to feed a houseful of guests until New Year’s. “Maybe this guy invited some people to stop by or something.”
Jamys shook his head. “He told me that he always came here alone.”
“Then how did this stuff get here? Why so much for just one man?” She hugged her waist as she looked around. “No one could have set this up as a trap. No one knew we were coming here but us.”
“There are no other humans on the island, and before we docked, I sailed around it to assure there were no other vessels.” He came up behind her and encircled her with his arms. “I should feel threatened, but I do not. I feel safe here. I believe someone is helping us, Christian. Someone who wants us to find the emeralds.”
“Well, they’re going to have to wait one more day.” She dropped her arms as she turned around to face him. “If I’m going to be your wife, then I want my wedding night. And it starts right here, right now.” She stood on her toes to press her mouth to his.
Kissing Jamys was like being drugged and electrified in his hands. He lifted her up in his strong arms, and carried her through the house, the lights dimming around them as he slipped into one of the back rooms.
A single bedside lamp came on, illuminating a white master suite. A massive oversize king dominated the room, and offered a simple retreat of sand-colored linens heaped with large pillows shaped like shells. When Jamys lowered her to the mattress, she looked up at a ceiling that shimmered and moved as brightly colored koi swam lazily across it.
“There are fish on the ceiling,” she murmured as Jamys stretched out beside her. “No, there’s an aquarium on the ceiling. Or the ceiling is an aquarium. How do you feed the fish if they’re all the way up there?”
His hands cupped her shoulders as he moved over her. “I imagine with great care.” He brushed her hair away from her throat. “And a ladder. Christian.”
“Jamys.” She lost interest in the fish, and shifted under him as a deep, pervasive throb spread through her pelvis and up into her breasts. “I have been thinking about this for so long . . . and now it’s happening, and I still don’t believe it.”
His voice went low and soft as he stretched her arms up and over her head, pinning them to the mattress. “You cannot have wanted this as much as I have.”
He brought her palm to his lips, using his tongue to trace the mound at the base of her thumb. It brought back the memory of him doing the same, and much more, between her thighs, and she lifted her hips, rubbing herself against him with the same sensual languor. “Keep doing that and you’ll never get rid of me,” she teased.