Empire Builders by Ben Bova Page B

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    He was shocked when he saw Jane standing in the shade of the roof off to one side of the registration desk. Tall and regal, her long auburn hair flowing past her bare shoulders, she too was wearing a wraparound pareo, forest green with a white floral pattern. Tied at the neck, it came to a modest mid thigh on her.
    Dan grinned at her and disengaged from the two Polynesian women, who giggled and jumped off the cart. He got off more slowly, and walked toward Jane with his smile fixed on his face. Stepping out of the tropical sun into the shade of the roof plummeted the temperature twenty degrees. Or is it just Jane refrigerating the atmosphere? he asked himself.
    “I didn’t expect you’d be here waiting for me,” he said. “Obviously,” said Jane.
    “Very friendly natives.” He took one of the leis from around his neck and draped it over Jane’s head, then bussed her on both cheeks. It was like kissing a statue.
    Stepping back from her slightly, Dan said, “I’d better sign in with the room clerk.” “That’s all been done in advance.”
    “Oh? Thanks.” Dan realized that the kid with his travel bag had disappeared. He grinned again. “Are we sharing a room?”
    “Not even in your dreams,” Jane snapped. “You’d be surprised what I dream about.” “Probably not.”
    “So which hut is mine? Are we next door to each other, at least?”
    “It doesn’t matter. We’re the only two guests in the hotel, at present.” “The only...?” Dan blinked. “I had heard that business out here wasn’t all that good, but there’s nobody else here?” “No one but the staff,” said Jane. “That’s damned romantic?
    Jane made a sound that he swore was a snort. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she said. Turning abruptly away, she headed off toward the rows of thatched huts that served as guest rooms.
    Dan shrugged and turned to the room clerk, a chunky middle-aged woman who was eying him doubtfully. The two young women who had greeted him at the airstrip were standing uncertainly at the far end of the registration desk.
    Dan took a deep breath of clean, sweet island air, heavy with the scents of tropical flowers. The Yamagata jet roared overhead, rattling his bones with its noise, then dwindled into the bright cloud-flecked sky.
    The sound of the plane ebbed into silence. The sea breeze blew, the palm trees swayed. After a few minutes of just standing there admiring the peace and beauty, Dan crooked a finger at the two young women.
    They came over toward him, smiling.
    “I wonder if you lovely ladies would be good enough to show me to my room,” he said to them, thinking, When in Rome , do as the Romans do.
    All through dinner Dan tried to figure out what was bothering Jane.
    She tells me to meet her here in this isolated little paradise, I come flying out to her without asking any questions, and she’s pissed as hell about something. The two little wahines? Can’t be that; we’re both too old to get sore at each other’s sex lives. Hell, it isn’t as if we’re committed to each other. Why should she be sore that I’m friendly with the local entertainment committee?
    No, he decided, watching her pick at her dinner, something else is bothering Jane. Something inside her. Something that really hurts. The dining area was out in the open air, as was almost all of the hotel. The patio was not even roofed over; they could see the stars glittering gloriously in the dark tropical night. The food was good, better than good; Dan knew that a Cordon Bleu chef had been flown in from Rome for the hotel.
    He had not known that they would be the only two guests on the island. That had surprised him. As they sat in private splendor, watching the stars and the luminous white sand beach, listening to the surf booming out along the reef, sipping a chilled ros Tavel, Dan thought how idyllic this evening would be if only he and Jane could forget the past and begin anew.
    “You picked a marvelous spot,” he said,