Bird of Paradise

  “But what is it? It's yellow! It looks poisonous!” Hero shrieked, still doing her fascinating little dance on the chair. Adam gave himself a moment to admire the flashes of leg that were visible as she bounced up and down, then turned his attention back to the cat, who had now wandered into the room and sat with his tail curled around his feet, looking for all the world like a feline version of Buddha.

  One with a gecko on his head.

  “Will it harm him? Where did he find it? Did he find it in my room? Oh, Lord, I'll have to have my room fumigated! I can't stay in a room with great herds of wildlife living in it!”

  Adam rose and walked over to the cat to take a closer look. “It's nothing poisonous, and fumigating wouldn't do anything. It's just a house gecko, Hero, not a tarantula or anything that bites or is poisonous, although I did see a scorpion as we left the ballroom, so you might want to be wary about going around barefoot outside.”

  “Eeeeeeek!” Hero screamed louder, and scrabbled onto the tiny round table that sat between the two wicker chairs. “Geckos! Scorpions! Tarantulas! No one said anything about them in the promotional literature!”

  He stroked a finger down the yellowish brown back of the gecko. It was about three inches long, and looked back at him with shiny black unblinking eyes. “You just had to take on a hitchhiker, eh?” Adam asked his cat softly, giving him a quick scratch behind his ear where the gecko's tail curled. Jesus rumbled in reply. The gecko slowly blinked. Hero made distressed noises.

  “Come here and meet the gecko,” Adam said as he turned, holding out his hand for her. “It won't hurt you, I promise. It's just a harmless little lizard that eats bugs. You'll be thankful to have him once you see how many insects he takes care of for you.”

  Hero looked at him as if he'd ripped off all his clothing and painted his penis bright blue. “You expect me to touch it?”

  The aforementioned penis twitched at the very thought of her words. He mentally pointed out to his genitals that she was referring to the gecko, not to them. “Yes, I expect you to touch it. Make friends with your house gecko, and he'll do right by you, that's what an old Bahamian once told me, and he was absolutely correct. Come on, I promise he won't do anything scary.” He wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand at her. She looked at his hand like it was crawling with geckos and shook her head. He tsked, then grabbed her waist with both hands and swung her down off the table. She slid down his chest in a manner that made his not-painted-blue penis cheer with happiness.

  Her knees seemed to buckle once her feet hit the ground, so he held onto her waist until she was steady. That was the excuse he gave himself; the truth was he just liked holding her close to him. A breeze from the window ruffled her auburn curls, sending the flowery scent of her to dance a tantalizing dance around him, stirring his libido to new heights. He regretted the morning's choice of bikini underwear, and made a mental note to wear boxers from that moment on.

  “You lifted me down,” she said in breathy astonishment, her eyes wide with shock, her hands on his where they held her waist firmly.

  “Yes,” he agreed, unwilling to let her go. She was warm and soft beneath his fingers, and he had the most overwhelming urge to let his fingers skim upwards, to feel the heat of her breasts against his palms.

  “You're holding me.” Her eyes grew dark with emotion, but what emotion was it? Did he offend her, did she think he was a sex maniac, or was she feeling the same wild stir of attraction that was washing through him?

  “I am.”

  “Close,” she pointed out.

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.”

  A minute passed with the two of them just standing there, him holding onto her waist, both staring into the other's eyes. The muffled roar of the surf from the east side of the resort mingled with the jabber of birds and people as they strolled past the cabanas, laughing and talking excitedly. Inside, the room was quiet but for the loud beating of his heart.

  “Do you want me to let you go?” Adam finally broke the silence to ask.

  Her pupils flared. “It is probably for the best.”

  He said nothing, his palms warm with the heat of her through the thin cotton of her dress. For some reason, he seemed unable to move his hands from her waist.

  “I…it's very difficult to speak with you when we're standing this close,” she added.

  “It is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  The tip of her little pink tongue emerged to lick her bottom lip. Adam was possessed with the overwhelming desire to suck her lip into his mouth and taste it for himself. “You…erm…standing this close…”

  “Yes?” The blush that swept up from her chest intrigued him. Did women still blush over something like a little physical contact? He eyed her rosy cheeks and bright eyes that held a hint of apology in them.

  “It's a position people usually take when they are about to kiss each other.”

  He really had to let go of her, he knew that. Just standing so close to her, her thighs pressed against his, the tips of her breast brushing against his chest with every breath, he was hard as a rock. She really would think he was a maniac if she knew he was reacting to her so strongly.

  “Would that be such a terrible thing?” he asked.

  “Mmm?” She looked confused by the question.

  “Kissing.”

  Her eyes widened until she had a deer-in-the-headlights look. “You mean—”

  He couldn't stop himself, there was nothing in the world short of spontaneous combustion or global nuclear war that would keep him from doing what he had wanted to the second he saw her. His lips brushed hers gently, tentatively, more a soft lip embrace than an actual kiss. The feeling of her mouth on his left him burning with the need to claim it properly, but he knew instinctively that she was poised on the edge of flight, so he pulled back and smiled at her instead.

  She stared at him in bewilderment as he released her waist, but captured her hand, tugging her over to where Jesus sat watching them interestedly.

  “Look, it's just a gecko. It's not slimy or wet or anything, it's just a friendly little lizard that wants to eat the bugs in your room. He won't come near you, they're very shy of people. Most of them don't even come out until night.”

  She continued to stare at him as he stroked the tips of her fingers lightly down the back of the gecko.

  “You kissed me,” she finally said, then blushed even harder.

  “Yes. Do I need to apologize?”

  He was willing to bet he could fry an egg on the blush that was burning her cheeks.

  “No,” she whispered, then looked down at where her fingertips rested on the gecko. “I still don't want it in my room,” she said in a stronger voice, slowly pulling her fingers from beneath his.

  He grinned as he retook his seat. “I suspect that won't be an issue. Jesus seems to have found a friend, and until I can afford to pay for his new testicles, I'd just as soon he kept himself busy and his mind off his depression.”

  Hero closed her eyes for a moment, opening them again to shake her head. “His new testicles?”

  “Yes, I told you that I was saving for his operation.”

  “But . . .” She looked at the cat as she sank into the chair opposite the tiny table. “Surely he's already had his operation?”

  “Not that one, the next one. The one to implant his prosthetic testicles. It's a very expensive procedure.”

  She stared at him with a curious look that was part disbelief, part amusement. “Prosthetic…testicles?”

  He frowned at her. “You're going to laugh, aren't you? Every woman I've told about the prosthetic testicles laughs, even my vet's partner laughed, but I assure you it's no laughing matter to Jesus. His self-esteem is involved. It's a very delicate situation.”

  She started to laugh. “I'm sorry, I have no intention of slighting your cat's testicles, or lack thereof. It's just that…prosthetic testicles! Only a man would think of
such a useless thing.”

  “Useless! A man's balls aren't useless! They have a very specific purpose, and I don't mind telling you that we as a gender tend to be fond of them. We feel a definite lack if they are missing.”

  “We weren't talking about your…erm…” she glanced at his lap and then quickly away.

  He ground his teeth together for a moment before speaking. “You said you had a proposition for me?”

  “Yes,” she said, her lips quivering slightly.

  “What is it?” he asked crossly, trying to keep the scowl off his face.

  Her lips twitched. “I will tell you, but I don't want you to be disappointed.”

  “Disappointed?”

  “Yes.” She lost the battle and began laughing. “It has nothing to do with tes…tes…testicles.”

  Chapter Four

  It took Hero a good five minutes to stop laughing. It didn't help that Adam had shot her such an accusatory look, or that he turned to his monster of a cat and balefully told him it was all his fault. Wiping a few tears of hilarity back, she made an effort to get to the purpose of her proposal. “As I was saying, I intend on remaining through the duration of the show.”

  He stopped scowling long enough to look curious. “Would you answer a personal question for me?”

  She gazed into his blue eyes and felt her determination not to allow him to affect her any more begin to melt. Her fingers twitched, wanting to touch her lips, to see if they had been changed by the almost-not-there kiss that rocked her world; then she remembered the women. His groupies. Indignation burned within her as she refortified her defenses against the sinfully handsome man opposite her. He probably kissed all of the groupies, too, no doubt as he was doing whatever he did to make them multiorgasmic. He probably did that on the plane to Mystique, she grumbled sourly to herself. He might appear to be a wonderful, warm, caring, handsome, ideal man who cared about animals and people, the truth was he was the biggest sex fiend of all. His nipples exploded in delight, indeed!

  “A personal question? Possibly. What is it?”

  “Why would an intelligent, pretty woman like yourself have to resort to a show like this to find a man?”

  A warm kernel of pleasure formed and started to glow within her at his words. He thought she was intelligent and pretty? The growing warmth suddenly froze. Intelligent, yes, lots of men had called her that, but never pretty. He was just flattering her, he had to be. He was being nice to her because she knew his secret, and he didn't want her to tell it to anyone. She raised her chin and gave him what she hoped was a haughty glare. “My reasons for being here are my own, and move no importance to the proposition I wish to make to you. Simply put, I must be sure of making it at least to the second round, and since the first two weeks we are judged on compatibility with others, I find myself in the necessary position of offering you a deal.”

  “What sort of a deal?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, looking mildly curious.

  “One that will be mutually beneficial: I will agree to not tell the Eden people and the Mystique officials that you smuggled your cat through quarantine, and you—” She took a deep breath. “—agree to be my date once a day for the next two weeks.”

  The words didn't hurt nearly as much as she thought they would, at least, not until Adam's eyes narrowed on her.

  “You'd turn us in?”

  “Not if you help me,” she said miserably, feeling terribly guilty about blackmailing him, but seeing no other choice. It wasn't as if he really was a nice man. He wasn't. His nipples exploded on national radio every night. His appearance of niceness was all a sham, an act to make people believe he was the sort of man who'd care for a stray cat and adopt him when others would have ignored the animal, or had him put down.

  Besides which, as the television show producer warned, the odds of making it past the first round of elimination were not good, especially for someone like her who so obviously stood out from the rest of the tanned, fit women. “One date per day, and positive comments each night in the confession booth should be adequate. That will leave you time to pursue Sally or any of the myriad other women who seem to wish to be with you, although I should warn you that Sally does not appear to be the least bit fond of you. You might wish to rethink your strategy with regard to your pursuit of her. She seems most adamant that you leave her alone.”

  “I wish I could,” he ground through his teeth, looking like he wanted to do someone bodily harm. Despite the gentleness of the kiss they shared earlier, she had a horrible suspicion it was herself he was thinking of. No doubt he didn't appreciate her pointing out the fact that the woman he was smitten with wasn't interested in him. All of which would make his kissing her reprehensible, except it clearly wasn't intended as a sexual indicator. It was more of a sympathetic kiss, a kiss for a woman who posed no sexual threat, a kiss for a pathetic woman afraid of lizards, a…a pity kiss.

  Oh, Lord, had it come to this? Pity kisses?

  “I can't believe you'd turn us in. I thought you liked…er…Jesus,” he said with a hint of steel in his voice.

  She pulled her mind from the abject misery that was her life, and reminded herself that she was strong and completely capable of living her life without him. Happily. “I do, but this is business.”

  One glossy eyebrow cocked at that.

  “What I mean, of course, is that I take the dating situation very seriously, very seriously indeed, almost as if it were my business. Which, in a way, it is.”

  “Let me see if I have this straight,” Adam said, frowning at her. “You are blackmailing me into being one of your dates each day?”

  She flinched at the baldness of the statement, then told herself that blackmailers had no right to be so squeamish. “Yes.”

  “Every day?”

  “One per day will suffice, I believe.”

  “At the conclusion of which, I am to report to the confession booth that we had a wonderful time together and are completely compatible in all ways, and that I hope to date you again the following day.”

  “Well…whatever it will take to gain us the points. You might not have to lie quite so vehemently. Perhaps just a little exaggeration will be required.”

  He looked a bit perplexed. “Why do you think I'd have be lying by saying we had a wonderful date and I wanted to see you again?”

  She stared at him in surprise. He really was a good actor. That or he believed she was so pathetic, he needed to bolster her ego a bit. Maybe he wasn't quite as hardened and jaded as he thought. That pity kiss had certainly done a lot for her, at least until she recognized it for what it was.

  But there was the issue of his nipples exploding all over the place, not to mention his hobby of making women multi-orgasmic.

  She sighed, confused by the dichotomy of his character. There was a definite blaze of something in the depths of his blue eyes that didn't say he pitied her. It almost seemed as if desire lurked in the sapphire depths. She spent a moment in contemplation of what it would be like to stir such an emotion in him, then reminded herself that the proof was undeniable: he was a sex expert and no doubt knew how to simulate sexual interest. She couldn't allow herself to forget that she had him by the short and curlies, in that situation, he'd do anything, even pretending he desired her, in order to keep her mouth shut.

  “It matters not,” she said briskly, determined to get his agreement on the proposition, “You can see that my plan will benefit you, as well as me. You will also garner points with each successful date we complete; thus you, too will make it to the second round. I have no doubt Sally will, as will most of your…erm…admirers.”

  “My—oh, them.” He gave her a sheepish grin that turned her insides all soft and squidgy. How could such a sex fiend look so adorable? “I don't encourage them, you know. It's a bit embarrassing, to tell you the truth. I never have been one for attention.”

  She was willing to wager he secretly loved it. All men loved to have women fawn upon them. “Mmm. Perhaps them becoming
a radio sex therapist wasn't the best career choice to have made?”

  He looked downright uncomfortable, leaving her to wonder if what he said was true, that he honestly did not like the attention.

  “About that…I…uh…hell. I can't tell you.”

  She eyed him for a minute, then stood up and held out her hand. “Do we have an agreement?”

  He looked at her hand, then stood to wrap his long, warm fingers around hers. “I am completely at your mercy, as you well know,” he said stiffly, his eyes dark and unfathomable. “As such, I have no choice but to agree.”

  The words cut through her like a hot knife. It was clear that he was only agreeing in order to remain a part of the show, not because he found any pleasure in the idea of dating her. Still, it was better he be honest about it than try to make her believe he really found her attractive.

  She just wished that honesty didn't have to hurt so much.

  “Thank you,” she told him, pulling her hand from his, aware of a profound sense of loss with the severing of physical contact.

  He left shortly after that, taking his cat and the gecko (much to her relief) with him. She took a tepid shower, had a rest on a bed that was a bit too soft for her taste, and spent the remainder of the time alternately reliving the wonderful feeling of being held by Adam as he kissed her, and remembering the simpering looks on the women's faces as they clung to his arms. Why had her mind chosen him to snap over, the one man who would have at least half the women on the island fighting for his attention? Well, at least she had his agreement to one date a day. He might not have chosen her of his own free will, but she suspected he was too much of a gentleman to ignore her during the dates themselves.

  A few hours after the téte-a-téte, she headed off toward the ballroom and the evening group date. Cameramen dotted the walkways, filming contestants as they emerged from their cabanas, talking and laughing together in groups as they meandered toward the main complex. Hero paused at the door when her name was called. She smiled as Sally, dressed in a slinky gold and black dress that left more of her exposed than covered, hailed her from the arm of a large, beefcakey man with no visible neck and skin-tight pants that looked like they'd been painted on him.