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“I could com
e 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. I’m lucky I got through to you.”
“It’s good to hear from you, Dad,” she said, flopping back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling, watching the blades of the paddle fan rotate slowly.
“Then you’re not still mad at me?”
“No way,” she said, wishing she could remember what they’d argued about before she’d left Seattle. He’d mentioned several times that he hadn’t wanted her to fly to Salvaje, but she couldn’t remember why.
“Good. ’Cause you were way off base.”
“Off base?” she said, prodding him. “I don’t think so.”
She heard him exhale an exasperated breath. “’Course you were. Jim’s above reproach. Always had been.”
“Jim?” she repeated. Jim who?
“Why you thought that you had to investigate him after all these years…I don’t know what got into you.”
Investigate him? She didn’t want to tip her hand, but she was dying to know who.
“He and I go way back, long before he was elected, and I won’t have you trying to smear his name.”
Elected? A politician? Oh, Lord. Her mind spun back to her conversation with Connie at the Observer. “You think I’m on a campaign against Senator Crowley,” she said, gambling.
“Oh, for the love of Mike, of course the senator!” he growled in exasperation. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” she lied, crossing her fingers.
“Well, you must be in love, ’cause you act as if you’ve lost your mind.”
If you only knew, Dad. She wanted to confide in him, to tell him about her memory loss, but a feeling, a strange, uncomfortable warning buried deep in the depths of her mind, held her tongue. There was a reason, a reason she couldn’t begin to fathom, that she couldn’t talk things over with her father. She sensed it now—that unspoken barrier that existed between them had always been there. “So we fought about Senator Crowley,” she said, trying in vain to remember.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line before her father said, “Honey, are you all right?”
