Free Serpent in Paradise by Unknown

she retorted, moving to collect her suitcase. "Don't get the
    idea that I might be willing to repay you for your help by warming your
    bed. If you choose to get yourself involved in this mess, it's not because I
    asked for your help!"
    "Have you ever asked any man for help, Amy Shannon?" he demanded
    softly.
    "No," she stated proudly, "I haven't."
    He hesitated a moment, as if he wanted to say something else. Then he
    smiled. "Second room at the top of the stairs."
    Amy grabbed her bag and hurried toward whatever sanctuary awaited
    at the top of the staircase.

Chapter 4
    « ^ »
    A n hour later Amy finally abandoned her efforts to sleep and tossed back
    the sheet. Soundlessly her bare feet found the hardwood floor, and the
    French nightgown drifted around her ankles as she padded across to the
    open arched window.
    The second room at the top of the stairs was clean and pleasantly
    furnished with bamboo and wicker, but there was a strange emptiness
    about it. It was as if no one had inhabited the room for a very long time.
    Which was entirely understandable, Amy decided wryly as she stood
    staring out to sea. Jase's souvenir-hunting houseguests undoubtedly slept
    in the master bedroom along with the master!
    She pushed that annoying image aside, gripping the edge of the window
    lightly. Below her the Navy ship still rocked gently, and a few men came
    and went in the darkness. But they were quite a distance away from her.
    Jase's home was removed from the working docks of the waterfront, unlike
    The Serpent. Had he needed to have a place where he could get away from
    his demanding business, even for a short period of time? Was he ever
    lonely? Did he miss the wife who had left him?
    No, he was probably far too satisfied living out the classic male fantasy,
    Amy told herself firmly. She mustn't romanticize such a man, not even for
    a moment.
    Yet, she trusted him. It was incredible, given everything she knew about
    him. What in the world was the matter with her? Here she was in his
    home, more or less agreeing to accept his help. What was it about Jase
    Lassiter that made her so incautious? It wasn't like her at all.
    Restlessly she stepped through the open window and out onto the
    veranda. A night breeze drifting in off the ocean caught the silky fabric of
    her nightgown, and she found herself remembering how the material had
    looked draped over Jase's tanned fist. Sensuous. Exciting. The picture in
    her mind wouldn't be banished. It stirred uneasy, dangerous sensations
    that she knew better than to cultivate.
    The veranda stretched completely around the house. Amy glanced to
    one side, looking for lights in some of the other rooms that opened onto it.
    All was in darkness. Was Jase in bed? Or had he stayed downstairs to
    contemplate his glass of rum? She found herself wondering which
    bedroom was his.
    Leaning forward, Amy rested her elbows on the railing, her
    spice-colored hair tumbling around her shoulders.
    "You shouldn't have come to Saint Clair, Amy. You're in the wrong place
    at the wrong time."
    Amy froze at the soft drawl of his voice in the darkness behind her.
    Then, with a feeling that she was somehow about to face her fate, she
    turned slowly to find him standing in the shadows of the entrance to the
    room beside hers. So close. Dear Lord! She hadn't realized he would be
    using the room next to hers.
    For a long moment they met each other's eyes in the shadows. Amy
    could feel the heavy tension in the air between them and knew that she
    was now facing a far more dangerous situation than she had faced when
    she'd gone back to her room to find it ransacked. She couldn't even move.
    "The wrong place at the wrong time," Jase repeated huskily, coming
    slowly toward her. He was still dressed in the khakis he'd had on earlier,
    the shirt open at the throat and the sleeves rolled up on his forearms. The
    dark mahogany of his hair was almost black in the dim light, but his
    brilliant turquoise eyes glittered with masculine