“Don’t you know when a man’s got the hots for you?”
“I do now, don’t I?” she’d replied, although something inside her had died when he laughed at her. “I won’t bother you again.”
She had run. It was the only time she could remember running from a problem, but she’d run all the way home, sobbing wildly. And it had taken her two days to get over it. By then her parents were determined to get her out of town, to keep her from being tempted into seeing him again. They sent her to an exclusive boarding school in western Massachusetts where she learned to live again. And now that expensive upbringing was paying off. Now she had the poise to take on Marc Stephano and pay off a very old, very bitter debt.
THE STEPHANOS’ SUMMER home was located between Southampton and East Hampton, situated near enough to Mecox Bay that it had a glorious view of the bay as well as the Atlantic Ocean, which it faced. It was a long drive from New York City, but the Stephanos’ helicopter made it there in no time at all. Gaby and Joe went alone with the pilot early Friday morning. Gaby hadn’t had any pressing assignments, so she’d taken the day off. Marc and Lana and the Smiths wouldn’t arrive until that night, Joe told her smugly. They’d have the whole house to themselves until the others showed up. Since the Fourth of July wasn’t until the following week, it would be a very long holiday indeed. Gaby felt she could use it. She’d worked steadily since her mother’s heart attack, trying to put it out of her mind. Despite the fact that she and her mother hadn’t been very close, it was difficult to accept. There were still times when she felt near tears.
She was glad the others wouldn’t already be in residence. She’d have time to relax and steel herself for another confrontation with Marc. That would help.
“You’re gonna love this place,” Joe told her when the chopper touched down on the heliport beside the house. “Marc really fought to get it, but he loved the look of it.”
She was still catching her breath from her first glimpse of the property. It was worth fighting for, she thought. The house itself was unique, very Mediterranean in design, with heavy white stucco and a red roof and a high wall that enclosed it from prying eyes. Secluded patios led off each bedroom, overlooking the bay on one side and the Atlantic on the other. The property had its own private pier and dock and a deliciously large ocean frontage with a private, very white beach. Gaby immediately fell in love with both the house and ocean views. And although she’d spent a good portion of her life vacationing on beaches all over the world, this was different. The house was isolated, and there weren’t any close neighbors. Just behind the house there was a tiered swimming pool with a patio, which had plush lawn furniture and a cabana. The cabana shielded the house from prying eyes, so that the pool area could be quite secluded. Off the master bedroom there was a walled patio that contained a hydro spa.
The beach had high walls at both property boundaries so that the occupants of the house could sunbathe without being observed, except possibly from the air or from passing ships. It was a haven of privacy all around. Inside, the bedrooms were widely separated and had exquisite bathrooms of marble and lots of glass. Gaby’s was on the bay side of the house, and it had a bed with curtains that drew together all the way around. The bedroom was decorated in pastels and was beautiful. It was fit for a princess.
“There’s a private wing for staff as well,” Joe told her, smiling. “We have to bring Carla with us when we come down here, because we don’t cook and Lana can’t. Carla is a jewel. Very Italian. You’ll like her.”
“I already have visions of gaining twenty pounds before I leave here,” she kidded.
“On you it would look good,” he decided.
“It would cost me my career too.” She laughed. “Oh, Joe, it’s a dream of a house!”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “Go ahead and unpack, put on a bathing suit and meet me at the ocean. We’ll swim until dinner.”
“Wonderful!”
She rushed to get into her black designer swimsuit. It had straps that crisscrossed in back and it was cut high at the hips. She didn’t like bikinis, and this suited her sleek body without being overstated. She pinned up her hair and ran to find Joe.
He didn’t look all that bad in black swimming trunks, but Gaby couldn’t help but compare him to Marc, whose big, husky body she remembered so well without the civilizing veneer of clothing. Joe was slightly built, had no body hair at all and was rather pale. But she had no interest in his body, anyway. Only his friendship appealed to her, and she hoped he understood that.
He let out a long, slow whistle. “My, my, what a dish,” he said, smiling sheepishly. He’d come out of his shell a lot, but he still seemed a little uneasy when he flirted with her, as if it came hard to him.
“You’re not bad, either,” she said, laughing. “Race you!”
She took off running toward the crashing surf, with Joe right behind her, and dived in headfirst. The water felt wonderful. Gulls cried overhead, and she felt alive and on fire with a sense of adventure. Marc wouldn’t want her here, and it would be hard watching him with Lana. Yet she felt real for the first time in nine years. It was as if her heart had been given massive doses of novocaine and had only just regained its ability to feel. Just to have Marc back in her life, even on the fringe of it, was a pleasure beyond bearing. She laughed and played like an otter in the water, and Joe watched her without really comprehending why she seemed so radiant.
“Having fun?” he called above the crash of the waves.
“Glorious!” she returned. “Isn’t it beautiful here?”
“You’re beautiful, all right.”
“You’re a flirt,” she accused, and shot water at him from behind her uplifted palm.
He started to retaliate just as the helicopter returned. His face fell as he looked up.
“Will the chopper hold all of them at once?” she asked quietly.
He shook his head. “The Smiths were driving up, so they could do some sightseeing. That will be Marc and Lana.”
She felt her heart sink. Well, she’d asked for it, hadn’t she? “You did tell him I was coming?” she asked, hesitating, her eyes big and green and questioning.
“Sure.”
“Did he go through the ceiling?”
“Right through it to the roof,” he replied. “But he gave in.”
“I don’t want to cause trouble for you,” she said.
“You won’t. We’ll just steer clear of them. He and Lana keep to themselves most of the time, anyway.”
She touched the foaming surf. “People in love usually do,” she said.
“Lana’s the one in love. I doubt that Marc is, though. But I have to say that she must be something, to have lasted a year.”
Gaby frowned. She truly wanted to dislike Lana, but the English woman had such a sweet personality. Why couldn’t she have been a scheming witch? Why did she have to be a nice
