The Millionaire's Marriage Demand(2)
He gave a short laugh. "I'm glad you didn't bother finishing your sentence. Brent's reputation precedes him."
"I won't ask if you're a friend of his. Obviously you're not."
"You got that right."
There was a depth of bitterness to his words that shocked Julie; she was suddenly aware of how tightly strung he was. As though he could explode any moment, she thought uneasily, and for the first time wished the wharf wasn't quite so isolated. Not another person in sight, and the nearest house a quarter of a mile up the road.
Normally she wasn't easily scared. She'd had too many close calls for that, too many times when she'd had to depend on her own resourcefulness to get her out of threatening situations. And this was Maine. Not Lima, or Dares-Salaam, or Calcutta.
When he'd walked down the slope toward her, he'd moved with the unconscious grace of the tiger she'd been lucky enough to sight in the mangrove swamps of West Bengal. Tigers might be graceful. They were also dangerous and had very sharp teeth.
Get a grip, Julie scolded herself. She had a trick or two up her sleeve when it came to self-defense. And so what if he was the kind of man who'd guarantee that any woman worthy of the name would be chomping at the bit? She said with a valiant attempt at friendliness, holding out her hand, "My name's Julie Renshaw."
With huge reluctance Travis clasped her hand, then dropped it as fast as he decently could. "Travis Strathem," he said.
She frowned. "Are you a cousin of Brent's?"
"No."
She flushed again at a reply whose brevity verged on rudeness. "Let me be honest," she said pleasantly. "I was really enjoying being alone until you came along, and it's pretty clear you're not craving my company. But we have to wait here for the launch and share the trip to the island. Couldn't we at least talk about the weather? Which, you must admit, is perfectly glorious."
Travis was known in some circles as a diplomat for his ability to smooth ruffled feathers under difficult circumstances; why had this ability been turned on its head by a pair of emerald eyes? He said incautiously, "If you think sunset's beautiful, wait until you see the sun rise through a mist lying low on the water … "
For a moment his gaze was lost in the past. Julie said curiously, "You've obviously been here before. If your last name's Strathem, I'm surprised they don't know you're coming-Oliver said I was the only guest arriving today."
They didn't know he was coming because he hadn't told them. Simple. Restlessly moving his shoulders, Travis said, "There must have been a mix-up."
He was, Julie thought, a very bad liar. But why would he bother lying to a complete stranger? Intent upon learning more about him, she said easily, "Have you visited Manatuck often?"
"Not for years," he said shortly. "How did you meet Brent?"
"Through mutual friends. We've only had a couple of dates. But I've always wanted to stay on one of the islands, so I must admit I jumped at the chance of this weekend."
To his horror, Travis heard himself say, "So you're not Brent's lover?"
His question hung in the air. Julie said coolly, "You didn't mean to ask that, did you?"
She was much too astute for his own liking. "You're right-it was the wrong question," he said. "I should have asked if your eyes are really that green?"
If her eyes were green, Julie thought furiously, his were a startling blue. Yet close up, they yielded as little information about what lay below the surface as did the ocean. "Why do you care what color my eyes are?"
"Put it down to idle curiosity."
"I don't think anything's idle where you're concerned," she said dryly. "So if you're not Brent's cousin, who are you?"
His eyes narrowed. "What if I'm his elder brother?"
"What if the launch is docking right now?" she replied with gentle mockery. "He's never mentioned a brother to me."
"I'm sure he hasn't. What if you tell me the real color of your eyes?"
Thoughtfully Julie gazed up at him. She was realistic enough to know that her eyes were her best feature. Her creamy skin she was apt to curse in these days of high UV and sunscreen; her body had gotten her into hot water too many times to be considered a desirable asset. As for her hair, she'd cut it short several years ago, partly because Africa and India were hot countries, partly because she'd read somewhere that waist-length hair turned men into lustful idiots. Quite suddenly she began to laugh. "I'm not wearing contacts at all, bright green or otherwise-I have twenty-twenty vision. Do you want to know something else? My mother always said I was stubborn. But compared to you, I'm a rank amateur."
Although his own smile was reluctant, it changed his face immeasurably. The strong nose, firmly carved lips and hewn chin were still the same, as was the unruly hair, so dark as to be almost black; but the smile brought his features to life in a way that was wholly masculine and incredibly, compellingly sexy. Male energy, Julie thought dazedly, that's what powers him. Forceful, formidable and hugely charismatic energy. It enveloped her, almost as if he'd put his arms around her.
She took an unconscious step backward, saying breathlessly, "I've met a lot of men the last few years, many of them very attractive. But you, I have to say, take the cake."
His lashes flickered. Then he said ironically, "Good line. Now are you going to ask for my phone number? Brent won't like that."
"Don't tell me you're not fighting the women off. Because I won't believe you."
"Yeah," he drawled, "I fight 'em off. Like I said, I don't belong to anyone."
"Neither do I," she said softly. "And that includes Brent."
A flicker of rage removed any vestige of Travis's smile; Brent, unless Travis was very much mistaken, was the one who'd sealed his exile from Manatuck and from his father all those years ago. Was that why he couldn't bear the thought of Julie Renshaw as his brother's lover? But he'd only just met the woman. Why should he care what she did, or with whom? "Let me give you a word of advice," he said curtly. "Keep your distance from Brent this weekend. For your own good."
She blinked. "You hate him, don't you?" she said slowly.
"No! But I wouldn't want to see you out of your depth."
Too late, she thought with a flash of humor. Ten minutes of Travis's company and she was seriously out of her depth. She said, "I'm not going to-oh, there's the launch."
A sleek powerboat had just appeared from behind the nearest island. Travis's head swung around, his whole body taut with tension. Julie gaped up at him, quite sure he'd instantly and completely forgotten her presence. It was as though he were steeling himself for an ordeal, she thought wildly. As though whatever had brought him here would require all the courage and endurance he possessed.
He possessed a good deal. Intuitively she knew that.
Her gaze dropped. His fists were clenched at his sides, the knuckles white. With a compassion that had gotten her into trouble before, she rested a hand on his bare arm. "There's something really wrong here, isn't there?" she said. "Won't you tell me what it is? Maybe I can help."
Travis dragged his eyes away from the launch: the same launch on which, at the age of sixteen, he'd fled the island. He said with icy precision, "Why don't you mind your own business?"
She flinched, snatching her hand back. "Fine. Forget I asked."
In a whirl of skirts she ran away from him, along the length of the wharf and up the slope, her sandals scrabbling in the loose dirt. Once she reached her vehicle, she unlocked the trunk and took out a bag. Then she leaned against the side of the car, ostentatiously staring into the woods as though the pine trees were the most fascinating sight she'd ever seen.
Travis's jaw tightened. He. didn't need her help. He didn't need anyone's. Ever since he'd first been banished from the island at the age of six, he'd managed on his own. And no woman, no matter how beautiful, was going to change that.
CHAPTER TWO
Moodily Travis stared out to sea, where the setting sun was glancing off the polished bow of the launch. Unimaginatively, she was named Manatuck, after the island. A boat named after a woman was not for Charles; despite his two marriages, Charles Strathem didn't have much use for women.
Even less use for his elder son.