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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.