Only when she heard Ter
ry's shoes tapping on the concrete sidewalk did she murmur a protest. Josh, too, must have been aware that they were soon to have company. He pulled away, only to kiss her hard and quick again, saying under his breath, “There's a smudge of lipstick on your chin.”
She was still blotting at it when Terry opened the door and moved in beside her. “Whew, what a day.”
As the car glided through the avenues of the recently developed island, he recounted everything that had happened since he'd last seen them.
“Have you been to Hilton Head before, Megan?” he asked excitedly. She could see his pride not only in his own resort, but also in the beautiful island itself.
“Yes, once my—” She looked swiftly at Josh. “My husband, James, and I came here for a long weekend. I loved it.” She glanced through the tinted windows at the deep forest that had been saved from destruction. “I love the South in general, with its moss-draped live oaks and pine trees. I also love the coast and beach. Hilton Head is the one place I've seen that combines both.”
“Well put,” Josh exclaimed. If her mentioning James had bothered him, he didn't show it. “Maybe I should hire you to write copy for commercials and print ads.” They all laughed.
“The original developers were unique, in that they wanted to preserve as much of the natural flavor of the island as possible,” Terry explained. “Did you know that at one time a huge cotton plantation stood on the island, even before it became a game preserve?”
“Yes. And wasn't there a significant Civil War battle fought here?” Megan asked.
Terry glanced at Josh and winked. “She's not only pretty, Josh, she's smart, too.”
Josh's leonine eyes scanned her face possessively, proudly. “I noticed that a long time ago.”
Only the sight of the impressive gates as they entered Seascape could have unlocked her gaze from his. Flanked by beds of flowers blooming in profusion, the raw-wood entrance branded with the distinctive yet unobtrusive logo for Seascape led into a lane bordered with live oaks dripping with moss. Their massive branches made a shady canopy over the narrow road.
“Oh, Terry,” Megan exclaimed, but it was Josh's thigh her hand found and squeezed hard in her excitement. “It's like something out of Gone With the Wind.”
Terry beamed, evidently pleased with her delight. On either side of the road behind the trees stretched acres of emerald golf greens. Bridle paths ribboned the otherwise untouched woods beyond. Megan felt overwhelmed, trying to take it all in. Seascape's main building was another delightful surprise. The sprawling complex was built almost exclusively of glass and wood, and it blended harmoniously with is woodland setting.
“It's wonderful, Terry,” she said, stepping out of the limousine, which had come to a stop in front of wide glass doors. “Absolutely perfect. I don't know what I expected, but this surpasses it.”
“Come inside.”
Well-trained bellmen, athletic men for the most part, scurried to get people checked into their bungalows with the least inconvenience. Most guests were conveyed to their cottages in golf carts.
“I've already assigned you to a building, so I'll just get the keys and send you on your way,” Terry said hospitably.
Megan nodded absently. She was gaping at the lobby like a country bumpkin in the city for the first time. What impressed her most was that none of the decor was gaudy or inhibiting. Even amidst the luxury, she sensed a homey, comfortable atmosphere.
“Look, Josh.” Unthinkingly she took his hand and turned him in the direction of an indoor waterfall, which tumbled over carefully arranged railroad ties and natural stone into a sparkling fountain. Flowers of every species and color surrounded it like a blooming picture frame.
He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close to his side. “Glad you came?” he asked into her hair.
Forgetting all about her devious plans, past heartaches, and hopes for retribution, she looked up at him with undisguised pleasure and answered honestly, “Yes.”
“This is Greg,” Terry said from behind them. They turned to face a college-aged young man with American good looks who was smiling in a friendly fashion. “He'll take care of you. May Gayla and I count on the two of you to join us for dinner?”
Josh consulted Megan by raising a questioning eyebrow. She nodded imperceptibly. “Yes, thank you. We'll look forward to it,” he said for both of them.
Terry was summoned to the check-in desk, which was swarming with arriving guests and hustling employees. He waved them off, entrusting them to Greg's good care. Greg drove them through the paved paths of the complex toward the bungalow where they bad been assigned rooms. Once away from the busy main building, Megan could only appreciate the serenity of the resort. As they cruised along tree-shrouded paths, the placidity was broken only by Greg's livery chatter.
“The swimming pools are through there. One is heated, the other isn't. That building houses the health club. There are exercise rooms for both men and women, showers, steam rooms, saunas, you name it. To get to the tennis courts, take the sidewalks marked with signs showing little tennis rackets.”
“I don't know if I'll ever find my way around, but I'll have fun trying,” Megan said. She was becoming uncomfortably aware that they were getting farther and farther from the central group of buildings. “How many rooms make up a bungalow?” she asked casually, hoping that her weak voice didn't give her uneasiness away. She could feel Josh's eyes roving over her face.
“Four,” Greg said.
“Four,” she repeated as though mulling over a vital piece of information.
“Yeah, but only the two you're in will be occupied this weekend.”