The Paternity Proposition(31)

Mazin shook his head. "Not today, Phoebe. We will save the bazaar for another day. After all, you have a list and to see everything, we must proceed in an orderly fashion."

"Of course. Your way makes sense." She leaned back in her seat. "I've always been in favor of being orderly." She sighed softly. "Except something about this island makes me want to be reckless." She smiled at him. "I am not, by nature, a reckless person."

"I see."

Her innocent words, the light in her eyes and the way her smile lingered on her full mouth sent a jolt of desire through him. The arousal was so unexpected, Mazin almost didn't recognize it at first.

He wanted her. He wanted her. How long had it been since he had done little more than go through the motions of making love? His desire had faded until he could barely remember what it was like to ache with passion. He had bedded the most skilled, the most beautiful women of his acquaintance and none of them had stirred him beyond the desire necessary to perform. Yet here, with this plain gray dove, he felt heat for the first time in years.                       
       
           



       

The fates that determined his life were once again having a great laugh at his expense.

"What do you know of present-day Lucia-Serrat?" he asked.

"Not very much. Ayanna mostly talked about the past. What it was like when she was my age." Her expression softened with obvious affection. "She would describe glittering parties she attended. Apparently she was invited to the prince's private residence for several events. She talked about meeting visiting dignitaries from other countries. She even met the Prince of Wales-the one who became King Edward and then abdicated the throne for Mrs. Simpson. Ayanna said he was an elegant dancer."

She talked about other parties her great-aunt had attended. Mazin wasn't sure if her lack of knowledge about current events on Lucia-Serrat was real or pretense. If she played a game, she played it well. If not-

He didn't want to think about that. If Phoebe Carson was exactly what she appeared to be, he had no business involving himself with her. He was jaded and far too old. Unfortunately, with his body unexpectedly hard with desire, he doubted he was noble enough to walk away.

"Look," Mazin said, pointing out the window. "There are parrots in the trees."

Phoebe strained to see, then rolled down her window. The tall trees were alive with the colorful birds. Reds, greens, blues all blended together into a fluttering rainbow of activity. She breathed in the sweet air of the island and thought how it was a miracle that she was here at all.

Mazin turned left, heading inland. Mazin. Phoebe still couldn't believe that he'd actually come to her hotel that morning simply to show her around the island and help her with Ayanna's list. Men never noticed her. It was amazing enough that he'd bothered to speak with her yesterday, but to have remembered her through the night-who would have thought it possible?

She brushed her hands against her slacks. Her palms were damp. Nerves, she thought. She'd never met anyone like Mazin. He was so sophisticated and worldly. He made her nervous.

A sign up ahead caught her attention. A carving of a small creature standing on its back feet and staring toward the sky sat on top of the sign.

"Meerkats," she breathed. "Oh, look. It's the reserve."

"I suppose you're going to ask me to stop there, as well."

She wanted to, but thought the banyan tree was a better outing to share with her companion. At least staring at a tree wouldn't make her babble like an idiot. Being around adorable meerkats with their funny faces and charming antics would make her gush in a very embarrassing way.

"I'm determined to abide by the schedule," she said, trying to sound mature. "I'll see the meerkats another day."

"Quite sensible," Mazin murmured.

His tone of voice caught her attention. She glanced at him, taking in his strong profile and the air of confidence and power that surrounded him. She didn't know why he bothered with her, but she knew that whatever his expectations, he was destined to be disappointed. She had never been good at fitting in. She had no experience with the opposite sex-not that he was interested in her that way.

"You probably think of me as a child," she said before she could stop herself. Heat instantly flared on her cheeks and she had to resist the need to bury her face in her hands. Instead she pretended to be engrossed in the view out the passenger window.

"A child," he repeated. "Not that. A young woman. How old are you, Phoebe?"

She thought about lying, making herself sound older, but what was the point? People already thought she was much younger than her actual age.

"I'm twenty-three."

"So very grown-up," he teased.

She glanced at him. Their eyes met and she was relieved when she saw his expression was kind. "I'm not all that grown-up. I've seen little of the world, but what I have seen has taught me to depend on myself." She swallowed, then risked asking a question of her own. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-seven."

She did the math instantly. Fourteen years. Not such an impossible distance, although she didn't know what Mazin would think of it. No doubt his world was incredibly different from hers. They would have no experiences in common-which might make the age difference seem even larger.

Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. She didn't know why he'd taken time out of his day to show her around the island, but she doubted he had any personal interest in her.

She briefly wondered if he'd ever been married, but before she could gather the courage to ask, he turned down a narrow road. Trees and shrubs grew on both sides, their bright green leaves nearly brushing against the sides of the car.

"The banyan tree is protected by royal decree," Mazin said as he pulled into an empty parking lot. "It is considered a national treasure."

"A tree?"

"We value that which is unique to our island." His low voice seemed to brush across her skin.

Phoebe shivered slightly as she stepped out of his car. She glanced back once, noticing for the first time that he drove a large Mercedes. She recognized the symbol on the hood, but had no idea about the type of car, save that it was big and a silvery gray. Back home she drove a nine-year-old Honda.                       
       
           



       

Different worlds, she thought again.

"Is the park open?" she asked as they headed for a path leading to a covered patio with an information booth at the far end. She glanced both left and right. "There isn't anyone else around."

"This is not our busy season for tourists," Mazin told her as he lightly touched the back of her arm to guide her up the stairs toward the information booth. "Plus it is early in the day for visitors. However, the park is open."

Phoebe studied the plants they passed. She didn't know any of them on sight. There were brightly colored blossoms everywhere. Lavender star-shaped flowers hung from spindly trees. Spine-covered pods in vivid red reached for the sun. A wild and sultry perfume filled the air as if the flowers conspired to intoxicate her. Even the air brushed against her body like a sensual caress. Lucia-Serrat was like no place she had ever been.

Mazin reached the information booth. He spoke quietly with the person inside. Phoebe glanced up and saw that the price of admission was three local dollars. She reached for the purse she'd slung over her shoulder, then hesitated. What was she supposed to do? It hadn't occurred to her that Mazin would pay, but would he be mad if she said anything?

She had barely fumbled with the zipper on her purse when he turned and looked at her. His dark eyes narrowed.

"Do not even consider insulting me, my dove."

There was steel behind his words. Phoebe nodded and dropped her hands to her side. Then she replayed his sentence, pausing at the very end. My dove. It didn't mean anything, she told herself as she mentally stumbled over the two words. No man had ever called her by anything other than her name. But it wasn't significant. He probably used flowery language with everyone.

She would store this memory away, she told herself. Later, when she was alone, she would pull it out and pretend that he had meant something wonderful. It would be a harmless game, something to hold the loneliness at bay.

He collected two tickets and they walked through an arch covered with blossoming bougainvillea.

"People think the pink and red on bougainvillea are the flowers," Phoebe said inanely before she could stop herself. "Actually those are just leaves. The flowers are very small and often white."

"You know horticulture?" Mazin asked.

"Uh, not really. Just that. I read about it somewhere. I read a lot of things. I guess my head is full of obscure facts. I could probably do well on a game show."

She consciously pressed her lips together to keep from talking. Could she sound more stupid? The fact that Mazin made her nervous was of interest to no one save herself. If she continued to act like an idiot, he wasn't going to want to spend any more time with her.