Harrison didn't care for the sport at all, but he knew his father, and knew there would be no getting out of a round while he was visiting. Fortunately, the Moore family line included a bit of inborn talent, and Harrison was smart enough to get to the driving range often enough to supplement it so that he would not embarra.s.s himself if he ever went out on the links. He hated every minute of it, but it had to be done. Sometimes Bruce came along with a stack of joints to make it easier, and he was wishing for that now.

As if he was reading his son's mind, George made his swing and turned to say, "I suppose you'll be polishing your game to finally be compet.i.tive now, won't you?"

"How's that?" asked Harrison from the golf cart.

George walked slowly back towards his son and handed off his driver to the caddy. "Well, it won't do to have the head of the Moore empire abandon the family game. We've been playing for generations, you remember, and there isn't a successful businessman alive who hasn't gained immense opportunity through being on the green. Can't have the links suddenly bereft of any Moores. It brings out the best in a businessman, son. Remember that."

Harrison forced a smile and nodded, staring intently into his scotch gla.s.s. "Indeed, I will remember that. I suppose you're right, though. Quite honestly, I don't find much time to get out on the links as it is."

"Spending too much time on your surfboard, I imagine. It's a child's sport, and you should abandon it."

Harrison shrugged. He didn't care enough to lie about that, and even his father couldn't upset him when it came to surfing. "I've always found the ocean far more relaxing than the golf course. Maybe you should take it up. It would be good for your heart."

"The ocean isn't meant for man. The golf course is." He gestured to Harrison and then to the teeing green. "It's impolite to hold up the play, son."

Harrison took a deep breath and tried to ignore his father's prodding. It was almost like he couldn't help himself. He always had to be contrary and weigh like an anchor on anything Harrison said or did. He got out of the cart and put down his drink.

As the caddy handed him his driver, Harrison breathed and thought of Clarice. The memory of her beautiful body beneath him, the sounds of her moans in his ears, it made all the anger at his father dissipate like smoke from a candle. He felt warm and happy.

He also, somehow, already missed her deeply.

The Moores played in silence for a few holes more until George had finally had enough scotch to feel comfortable breeching semi-emotional territory. Harrison knew he was sure to get more trouble about the engagement from his mother, naturally, but George wouldn't be able to go without saying something. After all, this was his very own doing, his own demands Harrison was meeting.

It was so predictable that Harrison saw exactly when it was coming. George watched the caddy pour out the last of one of the bottles into his gla.s.s, and George downed half of it before shuffling back to the golf cart. He was trying to look relaxed, but George Moore never relaxed. Instead he more resembled a fresh, unwrapped mummy in his movements. It was almost like his own body was trying to stop him from getting emotional.

"Well then, Clarice seems like a lovely woman," he finally said, looking around at anything but his son.

Harrison nodded and sipped at his scotch. "She is a very lovely woman. I'm lucky to have her."

"And you're sure about her then?" said George.

"Sure?" asked Harrison. He turned with a bit of an incredulous laugh. "Are you double-checking with me that I want to marry her? A bit of a bold question to ask a newly engaged man, wouldn't you say?"

"Women come and go, son, especially when you come from a family line as prestigious and valuable as ours. It's a simple question. You've not exactly enjoyed traditional relationships in your youth, and you've always fought me when this subject came up in the past. It's only prudent to wonder what has changed your mind."

"I'm sure mum will be happy at the implications you're making."

"Your mum is a gem," blurted George. "She is a gem of a woman, and I wasn't so stupid as to throw her away or let someone else s.n.a.t.c.h her up. Are you going to be that stupid, Harrison?"

Harrison stared at his father in surprise. Even these simple endearments were few and far between, and it was strange to hear them. "Father, I don't understand what's got you so excited. I'm not being stupid. I'm marrying Clarice, aren't I? I'm not throwing her away."

"And you shouldn't," said George. He sat down next to his son in the golf cart. "Your family name is supposed to have granted you a special life, Harrison; a life your grandfather worked hard to build, and pa.s.s on to me, and that I have worked hard to make even better for you and your future children. That's what we do, son. That's what all this is about. Part of that life is spending it next to a wonderful partner who loves and supports you, and makes all your successes worthwhile. Someone who will give you your heirs, yes, but it must be more than that. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

Harrison wasn't sure. He was simply stunned to hear this kind of talk, and let his father continue without responding.

George looked down into his scotch and cleared his throat. "Family is a blessing, Harrison, and I want you to have all the blessings life can offer. I know you haven't always agreed with me, especially after what happened with Anastasia."

Harrison closed his eyes. The pain in his heart at that moment was too strong for him to spare the vulnerability of anyone seeing it in his eyes. His longtime sweetheart throughout childhood, she had led him on and ripped his heart out just before they left for university, and Harrison had never fully healed from the wound. He had trusted her so deeply. "Father, please... don't."

"You have always had a good, strong heart, Harrison. A warm heart. Your mother's heart. I'm sorry that Anastasia hurt you badly enough to make you want to turn it to ice. It's very difficult for a father to admit when he doesn't have the experience to relate to his child. I was fortunate enough to have met your mother young enough that I never had to endure what you did. I admit, I don't know what it feels like to have a broken heart, son. Not like you had to carry."

Warm tears rolled down Harrison's skin before he could stop them, and he did nothing to wipe them away. He was frozen there in the rare moment.

"I'm happy to see you opening your heart again, Harrison. I'm happy to see you loving someone again."

George patted his son's knee and gave it a stern shake before he finally got too uncomfortable with the show of emotion to go on. He settled up in the driver's seat of the golf cart and cleared his throat as he set the cart in motion over the sunny green links.

A raging cloud of dark emotions overwhelmed Harrison's heart. He should be happy, he realized. Happy that his father was so thoroughly convinced that Clarice was his future wife that he would open up so fully to him. The ruse was working flawlessly. So flawlessly it had inspired his father to spill a veritable emotional tidal wave. He was so close to smoothing out this ma.s.sive problem he had created.

But he didn't feel happy. Harrison felt darker than a moonless night. The ruse succeeding seemed like a faraway problem when pitted against the reality that soon, Clarice would be returning to her real life, and Harrison would return to his. Alone. This beautiful life he was faking, the one his father was so thrilled to finally see him achieve, it was all a lie that would be over sooner rather than later.

Harrison realized he didn't want that. He didn't want Clarice to leave. Seeing the reality of his father's reactions made that starkly clear.

Despite his mother's insistence that the only place she wanted to see in Bali was their private pool, with the help of sweet Clarice's influence, the men were able to convince her to take a day out of the resort and visit the local city after they returned from the links. It wasn't a very large place and much about it still catered heavily to the tourist crowd influxes from the resorts, but it was clean and safe, and did a wonderful job displaying the local Balinese culture.

They took separate town cars out of the resort, on George's insistence, in case he was suddenly needed for something important and had to leave. Harrison didn't quarrel with him over it. Instead, he was glad to get the time alone with Clarice.

The way she grinned at him as she slid across the leather backseat said she was glad for it, too. Harrison smiled back and felt his l.u.s.t rising as he joined her in the car and put an arm around her shoulder.

"Hi there," she said coyly. "First family outing, eh? I'm a little nervous."

"Don't be nervous," said Harrison, kissing her head. "They adore you, especially mother. I can't believe you convinced her to leave the resort. They'll have you canonized for that."

"What's her deal with that?" asked Clarice.

"She's just a bit of a dainty woman, is all," said Harrison with a sigh. "She was raised on an estate, the daughter of a lesser duke. She might actually believe everywhere outside of England is a shanty town."

Clarice laughed, her hand to her chest. "Oh, that's awful, not funny. I shouldn't laugh."

"It's a bit funny," said Harrison. "Insanity always is."

Clarice relaxed against his body as the car began its drive out of the resort and around the island highway. Harrison ran his fingers gently up and down the soft skin of her arm. He realized he couldn't remember the last time he had gotten so physically intimate with a woman.

s.e.x wasn't intimate, not for him. s.e.x was just something he did; something he needed, like food or a bath. He loved it a lot more than most of his needs, but it was part of his body's functioning. But this... this was something different. He didn't hold the women he was with like this, because he didn't feel anything for them, and he definitely didn't want to encourage their feelings for him.

Yet every time Clarice's body moved even a little away from him, all he wanted was to pull it back close and not let go. And every time he tightened her arms in little squeezes, she made a soft little happy sound and nuzzled against him. It almost made his heart burst.

Something different was happening to him.

The town cars dropped them off as instructed at a local theater, one that Harrison recommended quite often to guests of the resort. Bali was respected the world over for its performance arts, including dance and theater, and he did his best to make sure visitors didn't behave like his recluse mother and deny themselves the cultural experience. Bruce was especially pa.s.sionate about it, too. So much so that with his anthropology background, between the two of them, they had increased attendance at this particular hall by almost fifteen percent. As a thank-you, the owner offered Harrison box seats to any performance he wanted to attend -though Harrison always bought the tickets anyway. He didn't need the perks, and it was more important to him that the local economy continued to thrive.

Clinging tightly to George's arm, Vanessa was looking around very suspiciously as they walked up the stone staircase to the beautiful play s.p.a.ce. Harrison gave Clarice a nudge and a nod.

"Look at her face. She thinks it's going to start raining frogs any moment," he whispered.

Clarice glanced over slyly, and when she turned back, her eyes were alight with amus.e.m.e.nt and her attempts at bottling laughter. She pushed her face into Harrison's arm to hide the noise she couldn't stop, and that only made Harrison lose his composure.

"Are you coming, then?" asked his father from the top of the stairs. His expression said he had heard the laughter.

"Two seconds," said Harrison with an apologetic hand wave. "My bride just needs a drink of water, that's all."

Clarice was shaking with laughter and turned towards the town car, pretending to turn it into a cough. But she also found room to swing a playful fist at Harrison's arm for his shenanigans.

"You're an a.s.shole, you know that?" she said to him once she had caught breath enough to talk.

"You mean to say I'm hilarious and should start my own comedy routine at the club," said Harrison. "I've thought about it, I won't lie to you. I was thinking my stage name could be Lance Thunderwood."

"There is no way you made up that name for a comedy show. p.o.r.n, yes. Comedy, no."

"Busted, that is my p.o.r.n name," said Harrison. "Dynamic, isn't it?"

Clarice smirked at him and shook her head. "What am I going to do with you?"

Harrison shrugged. "I don't know, f.u.c.k me senseless?"

"If you're extremely lucky."

He stuck out his arm to her with a smile and a wink. "How about for now, we just watch some theater? I'll need my senses for that, anyway."

"Yeah, what is this going to be like, anyway? I have to plead ignorance on the arts of Indonesia," she asked as she took his arm.

He escorted her up the stairs. "The Barong dance is a very old performance. You've probably seen the costumes they use before, it's quite popular. They look like giant dragons and require two men to operate, it's really something to watch. They tell the story of a battle between good and evil, one dating back to the 10th century."

"The highest drama," said Clarice. "I can't wait."

"You're going to love it. I bet they're bringing the costumes out of their sacred storage right now, blessing them already. They have to, you see, because the costumes themselves are holy. It's really extraordinary."

"I see you're quite the theater expert!"

"I've been a time or two," he replied slyly. "Does that impress you?"

"It doesn't not impress me," said Clarice with a giggle.

"Actually, that's the only time I care to head to Denpasar or any of the larger cities, to see the theater. Imagine all of this on a scale four or five times the size, including the budget. It rivals anything I've seen in New York or London."

"Really?" said Clarice. "I would love to see that!"

"I don't want to undersell these locals, though. The big theaters are nice and fancy, but their motivations seem different, somehow. Out here, people fill their performances with a soul, a pa.s.sion that the city troupes lack. I don't fully get it, although I'm sure Bruce could explain it to us.

"No, I understand completely," said Clarice. "I think it's the same with any creative art. I definitely see it in the writing world. You can pull more raw, emotional power out of a struggling newbie than a cushy, popular, best-selling writer, because one of them still remembers what it's like to have nothing but their pa.s.sion."

Harrison said, "That's a very astute observation, darling. I agree."

"Well, I am pretty amazing," she said.

"I second that."

"Do you think your mother will like the play at all?"

With a deadpan face, Harrison said, "Oh, absolutely not, no. She's going to be furious she left the resort. But since you're the one who talked her into it, I can just blame it on you."

Harrison was right about his mother. He sneaked glances at all of them during the performance, and he couldn't remember the last time he had seen her so bored and stiff. His father actually seemed to be relaxing and enjoying it, though.

And Clarice, well... Clarice continued to shatter the icy fortress around his heart with her beauty and charm. She was completely enraptured by the performance, as enraptured as he felt the first time he had arrived in Bali and taken in the show. She barely took her eyes off the stage for the entire thing. Even when he would stare at her and smile, and take her hand in his, she would squeeze back and turn for just the briefest of seconds to return it before her attention was right back on the stage. She seemed to love it as much as he did; he actually envied her, getting to take it in for the first time.

After the performance, Clarice was gushing, and all she wanted to do was take in more of the local scenery and culture. Harrison was delighted about it.

"Why don't we go take a stroll around the market?" he suggested to his parents. "I can introduce you to some of the locals and vendors we work with at the resort."

"Oh, I think not, son," said his mother, fanning herself with her hand. "It's so dreadfully humid here, I don't know how you can stand it, I'm simply melting."

"C'mon now, mum, come wander around the marketplace with us. There's excellent fruit and fish, so fresh you'd think you had died and gone to heaven," said Harrison. "You can find some lovely gifts to take home to your bridge circle. Tales from the exotic orient!" he mocked.

"No, no," said Vanessa, ducking her head to avoid a bug that Harrison was almost certain she had imagined. "George, honestly, I just want to return to the resort. It's simply dreadful out here."

George heaved a big sigh and put a hand on his wife's back. "Not all of us were meant to ex-patriate, I'm afraid, my boy. I need to get your mother back to somewhere with air conditioning."

"Well, at least you can't say I didn't try," shrugged Harrison. "You'll just have to live with the guilt of not spending time with your new future daughter."

Clarice slapped his chest gently. "Don't you dare guilt them, you jerk."

"Yes, quite," agreed Vanessa. "Clarice would never be so foolish as to think I don't adore her." She came forward and gave Clarice a small embrace and a peck on the cheek. "We'll see you when you return, dear." She hugged her son and without another word headed back to the waiting town car.

George simply shrugged and followed his wife. Harrison called after him to tell the other town car driver to head back, too; he would call when they were ready to return to the resort.

"So," said Harrison to Clarice once the cars pulled away. "I've got you all to myself, huh? What do you say we tour the marketplace first, and then do something a little wild?"

Clarice grinned wickedly and tugged at Harrison's shirt. "I think that sounds perfect. What did you have in mind?"

"Something beautiful. You'll see."

The market was as delightful as Harrison promised, and even though it was a weekday and the town was rather small, the place was bustling with life and noise. Children dashed around the adults playing games, chasing dogs, selling trinkets, and occasionally trying to hone their pickpocketing skills, according to Harrison. Clarice was smitten and gave him a big kiss when she realized he was sneaking each of them wads of money when they came up to him giggling. Obviously, they knew him well enough, which meant he did this all the time.

Harrison took her up to one of the street food vendors and lifted up two wooden skewers stacked with dead fried scorpions glittering with red spices. Clarice immediately repulsed on instinct.

"Tsk, tsk!" said Harrison as he handed one of the sticks towards her. "I thought you were an adventurous woman of the world."

"Those are bugs," she said, with her nose crinkled.

"You'll be interested to know that it's only you sn.o.bby Americans who are so resistant to adding insect protein to your diet. For the rest of the world, it's quite natural." He wrapped his mouth around the scorpion on the top of his skewer and slid it off into his mouth. He crunched it in one big bite and smiled, smacking his lips.

Clarice made a face at him and shook her head.

"C'mon, you big wimp! I dare you."

As if those were magic words for Clarice, she gave him an angry glare as she took the stick from him and brought it to her nose with a sniff. Harrison watched her, his eyes alight with amus.e.m.e.nt, as she took a lick of the spice coating and was surprised to find it was sweet. Finally, she took a deep breath and dove in, pulling the first scorpion off into her mouth.

"Yes!" said Harrison, feeling victorious as he went for his second.