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She looked away from him. “Is there anything else?” she said tensely.
He nodded. “The Curtis house, which is now the Bodine house, is at 1223 Prospect. If I were you, I would arrange to have anything you want from your apartment shipped there. Do you have anyone in New York who can pack for you?”
“I left a key with a neighbor. I can ask her to put together a few things for me.”
“Good. Better ask her to send them express—we’re booked on a flight out to the islands Friday night.”
“Should I sublet my apartment?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll buy out your lease if you like.”
A
He must have known what she was thinking because he said, “Turnabout is fair play, no?”
“I don’t think you know much about fair play anymore, Heath,” A
He stared at her for a long moment, then said neutrally, “You may go now.”
A
Chapter 7
A
Heath might hate her but he would never be able to say she was a coward.
She had just walked down the front steps of the i
“I only brought one bag from New York. I didn’t think I would be staying on Lime Island very long.”
“I’ll send somebody for it,” he said shortly. He was wearing a conservative suit that made him look more dashing than ever; the contrast between his businesslike clothes and his dark, almost piratical coloring was devastating.
A
The ride to the registry office was short. They walked up the steps to the concrete building side-by-side in silence. A
Inside, the Jensens were sitting together on a bench. Joan held a large orchid corsage in a florist’s plastic box on her lap. They both rose when they saw Heath and A
“Well, there she is!” Joe Jensen caroled, and enfolded A
When he released A
A
He had obviously not told the Jensens the details surrounding this happy event.
A
“There now. That’s just the touch you needed,” Joan said. “I knew Heath wouldn’t think of it.”
Mercifully, the door to the registry office opened and the clerk called their names.
The spare, paneled walls of the judge’s chamber did little to lift A
Heath turned to her and kissed her.
A
Afterward, A
“What did you tell them?” A
“I told them we had been apart so long that we wanted to get right on with the honeymoon.”
“Didn’t they think that was rather a sparse wedding for a multimillionaire?” she inquired.
“They know I value my privacy,” he replied shortly.
A
Her question was answered as he turned down Prospect Boulevard and then pulled into the long, curving driveway of the house which had once belonged to Duncan Curtis. The landscaping was different, more elaborate than A
Heath used a remote control to open one of the triple garage doors and pulled the sleek car into the middle bay. The garage was antiseptically clean, a tier of shelves against one plaster wall containing antifreeze and motor oil the only color in the whitewashed environment. The bay to the right contained an RV; the one to the left, an elaborate Harley Heath could never have afforded in his Jensens’ Marina days. A
“He who dies with the most toys wins,” A
Heath shot her a look as he turned off the motor. “What is that supposed to mean?” he said.
“Has all this shiny machinery made you happy, Heath?” A
“It hasn’t made me unhappy, which is more than I can say for you,” he replied.
“Still a Harley man, I see,” she said, deciding to ignore the riposte.
“Always,” he replied, and got out of the car, coming around to open the door for her before leading her into the house.
The garage entered into the kitchen, and A
Heath had gutted the place, eliminated walls and raised the roof, introducing a Native American motif that carried through the newly enlarged, now airy rooms. She walked across the tiled floor, passing the gleaming appliances and double refrigerator, through the dining area, with its varicolored Seminole rug on the wall and carved oak chairs. She moved into the living room, where the modern furniture centered around another rug of Native American design spread on the pegged pine floor. She looked around in reverential silence for a few moments and then said, “This is gorgeous, Heath.”