9780449006092: Volcano
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0449006093 ISBN 13: 9780449006092
Verlag: Gold Medal, 1999

Inhaltsangabe

In her bestselling novel Blue Clouds, Patricia Rice won the hearts of readers everywhere with her delightfully fresh characters and compelling romance.  Now her talent erupts once again in VOLCANO--a fiery love story set on a tropical island paradise. . . .

After landing in gorgeous St. Lucia on business, Penelope Albright receives the shock of her life:  She is accused of smuggling drugs.  Then a sexy stranger appears claiming to be her husband, "kidnapping" her before trouble begins.  Or so she thinks.  Trouble and Charlie Smith have met.  He needs a wife--temporarily--to help him keep a low profile while snooping into the mysterious disappearance of his partner.  And like it or not, Penny is already involved.

True, they mix like oil and water, but soon the lush setting and mounting danger put things in a very primal perspective.  Like the island's legendary volcano that holds the key to a deadly scheme of greed and power, their desire is a force of nature all its own. . . .

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Patricia Rice is the million-copy bestselling author of Wayward Angel, Denim and Lace, Paper Moon, Garden of Dreams, and the national bestseller Blue Clouds. She has won numerous awards, including the Romantic Times Lifetime Achievement Award. A mother of two children, she lives in North Carolina.

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As the airplane circled the runway, Penelope's stomach clenched with panic. She'd never flown out of the country before, never dealt with the unanticipated complications of foreign travel alone. She'd never had such an important assignment, either, one that carried all her desperate hopes and prayers.

Given a choice, she'd take the security of the known any day. She blamed the unfairness of life for assigning the most important project of her career to a tiny island in the middle of the Caribbean, where she knew nothing and no one.

As the airplane wheels bumped on the runway, Penelope watched the tropical landscape fly by with an interest heightened by fear. She was such a damned coward. She should be thrilled at this opportunity.

She steadied her emotions by envisioning the interminable wait to file off the plane, the ordeal of negotiating the soulless terminal with thousands of strangers hurrying toward unknown destinations, and the cab ride to some faceless hotel like all the other hotels she'd ever known. Only then could she finally start the job that would establish her foothold in the career of her choice. She needed that partnership so desperately her teeth ached with it.

Her uneasiness arose from hunger and exhaustion and nothing more. If she could readjust her thinking and consider this as simply one more assignment in a string of successful assignments, she would be all right. She knew she was good. She might be an emotional basket case, but she had brains.

Carting her briefcase and overnight bag off the 747 into unknown territory, she just wished she could solve her growing anxiety along with her growling stomach. The initial gnawing had originated with her 6 a.m. arrival time without breakfast at the Miami terminal for international passengers. The line had been endless, offering no opportunity to grab a bite before boarding. The plane had sat on the tarmac for over an hour after that, so she'd missed her connection in Puerto Rico. She'd spent another hour standing in lines to book another flight, leaving her just enough time to run through an unfamiliar airport, without lunch. Naturally, neither of the flights had served meals. Surely her nervousness had more to do with an empty stomach and incompetent airlines than fear.

Heat slammed into her the instant she stepped down the plane stairs. No brief hike through weather-protected tunnels into an air-conditioned terminal on this underdeveloped island. Warily watching more seasoned passengers, Penelope followed them across the tarmac to a shaded walkway. The tropical sun glared off the pavement, and drooping palm trees shimmered behind the heat in the distance. Even coming from Miami, she could feel the difference.

Penelope skirted around the chattering passengers trailing along the walkway as if they had all day. Even in her low pumps, she still towered over most of the crowd. As a twelve-year-old, her height had utterly embarrassed her. She'd come to terms with it since then, but sometimes she still felt like that gawky teenager, especially when people stared.

She'd been warned her destination required a lengthy taxi journey to the other side of the island. She wanted to arrive before dinner, so she needed to hurry. But she was starving now. Would a restaurant be too much to hope for? Garbed in a man-tailored business suit meant for an office and not the tropics, Penelope felt moisture pooling beneath her shirt as she hurried toward the terminal.

Adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses as she entered the building, Penelope breathed a sigh of relief under the slow-moving fans cooling the high-ceilinged immigration office. The sight of half a dozen long lines ahead of her didn't help the gnawing in her stomach, but the consequences of Beth's accident had taught her patience. She was almost there. The hotel had promised an agent would meet her outside the gates. She wouldn't have to find her way alone after that. Setting her briefcase safely between her navy pumps, she tightened the pins in her upswept hair.

She knew how to find her way alone by now. Admittedly, she'd led a sheltered childhood in an upper-class environment, but she'd spent these last eight years since college making her own way in the world. Caught up in their divorce, her parents had never helped her. Besides, they were still disappointed that she hadn't married Zack and settled down back in Charlotte as Beth had. And she certainly didn't have any man holding her hand, pretending she was too helpless to manage these journeys alone. Zack had never forgiven her the day she'd gone back to Charlotte on her own, leaving him drunk in Daytona on spring break.

Looking around at the tourists crowding the room, Penelope summoned pity for the harried women with crying children clinging to their hands while their husbands juggled baggage and pretended competence. If those women had fooled themselves into believing their husbands would take care of everything, they would be sorely disappointed. Men couldn't do a blamed thing without a woman behind them.

As if confirming her opinion, the man at the head of her line searched frantically through the pockets in his expensive L.L. Bean traveling jacket while his wife held a crying baby and watched in bewilderment. Lost the passports, Penelope thought cynically.

The next man in line looked vaguely familiar. Wearing an expensive suit in contrast to the casually dressed tourists around them, he clutched a leather briefcase as he handed over his passport. Penelope frowned as she tried to figure out why a middle-aged, balding, burly man would look familiar until she realized he was one of PC&M's clients, a major contractor. Interesting that PC&M had acquired a new client here at the same time one of their contractors was moving in on the area. Could be some connection. Maybe the contractor had recommended PC&M to Anse Chastenet. That was how these good ol' boy networks worked. She mentally filed the knowledge for future use.

Shoring up her confidence, she decided that after a few more trips like this one, she'd be an experienced traveler, ready to specialize in Poindexter, Combs, and MacMillan's Caribbean accounts. Maybe then she could take the time to enjoy the exotic setting of the islands.

Right now, she worried about finding her suitcase, getting through customs, and locating her assigned agent. Then there would be the perilous journey to the hotel. Cadogan's guidebook hadn't called it perilous, but she could read between the lines. "Tortuous paths," "series of switchbacks," and "rough, potholed roads" meant any number of things, none of them pleasant in her current frame of mind. She didn't like situations she couldn't control.

Finally, her turn arrived. The agent gave her passport a cursory glance, stamped it, and motioned her away. Penelope had already watched the passengers ahead of her and knew they'd disappeared somewhere to the left. She couldn't see any signs to guide her, and the agent's heavily accented English reduced the possibility of asking questions. Gathering her courage, she shouldered her bag and trudged down another corridor.

At least the natives of St. Lucia were supposed to speak English. Her high-school Spanish and college French wouldn't hold up well in this nerve-racking environment. She'd known the islanders spoke a patois. She hadn't counted on their heavy accents converting their English into a foreign language. She prayed the hotel management had a better grasp of her native tongue or she'd be in for an uphill struggle in installing their software.

She saw no sign of the contractor in the crowd of tourists circling the baggage claim. He must have only brought his briefcase for a quick trip. Pity. She might have made some new connections here if he knew the area. Maybe another time.

Native...

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Verlag
Gold Medal
Erscheinungsdatum
1999
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0449006093
ISBN 13 
9780449006092
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
340
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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