A HUSBAND TO REMEMBER by Lisa Jackson

Author:Lisa Jackson [Jackson, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781460395714
Publisher: HQN Books
Published: 1993-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

“...and stay in the room until I get back,” Trent ordered through the open door of the cab. Rain ran down his neck and under his collar as Nikki sat in the back seat of a battered old Chevy that smelled of must, sweat and stale cigarette smoke. They’d returned the horses and now Trent was sending her back to the hotel. Alone.

“Where will you be?”

“Back at the airport, trying to find out how bad this storm is supposed to be and if our flight will take off tomorrow.”

“I could come with you—”

His lips thinned in silent reproach. “Go back to the hotel and dry off before you catch pneumonia.”

“I’m not going to—”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He slammed the door closed and the cabbie stepped on the gas, leaving Trent standing in a puddle of rainwater and a cloud of blue exhaust.

“Serves him right,” she muttered, still steaming. After they’d made love, he’d become as sullen and brooding as before, insisting they return the horses and she go back to the hotel.

Wind whistled through the palms and banana trees that lined the street which was all but deserted as pedestrians waited for the storm to pass.

At the hotel, Nikki paid the cab driver and dashed through the rain to the hotel lobby. Her skirt was muddy, her hair lank and dripping as she took the elevator to the second floor and entered the room. As beautiful as Salvaje was during the mild weather, the island seemed dark and menacing in the storm.

Shivering, she stripped off her clothes and took a quick, hot shower, lathering her body and shampooing her hair with a vengeance. Her skirt was probably ruined, stained as the result of making love to Trent in the wilderness. The passion between them had been earth-shattering, and yet afterwards Trent had treated her no differently than he had before. He was still a cynical, overbearing bastard.

Dressed in a robe that covered her bra and panties, she sat before the bureau mirror and combed the tangles from her hair. The woman staring back at her looked better than she had a few days before. Most of the scabs on her face had fallen off, and though her skin was pink, with the right touch of base makeup, blush, lipstick and shadow, she would look almost the same as she had before she’d lost her memory.

The phone rang. She picked up the receiver on the third ring and, telling herself that the caller had to be Trent, said, “Hello.”

“For the love of St. Peter, why are you still on that godforsaken island?”

She couldn’t help but grin when she conjured up a picture of the crusty man who’d spawned her. “Probably for the same reason you’re forever on a jet between Seattle, Tokyo, Seoul and Sydney. Scheduling.”

He chuckled a little. “Don’t patronize me, girl. I’m worried about you, and won’t feel right until your feet touch down on home soil. What with the storm warnings and all, it’s enough to drive me nuts.

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