Serpent in Paradise Read Online Free PDF

I'll
    raise your salary at least a dollar a week."
    "Geez, boss. A buck-a-week raise isn't even going to be enough to pay off
    the guy I'll have to hire to forge the degree!" Ray complained.
    "Yeah, well, that's the way it goes when you choose to practice your
    profession on some damn forgotten island in the Pacific. Upward mobility
    is limited."
    Ray leaned both elbows on the polished surface of the bar and eyed his
    boss. "The lady tourist got to you, didn't she? How'd that happen?"
    "Beats me." Jase stared down at his drink. "How many of these have I
    had tonight, Ray?"
    Ray followed his gaze to the glass of rum. "I wasn't counting. Want I
    should start?"
    Jase's mouth tightened. "No. But maybe I should start paying closer
    attention. We've both seen what too much of this stuff can do to a man out
    here."
    "You're a long way from that stage," Ray murmured.
    "That's probably what all the others said en route to 'that stage,' " Jase
    decided, staring broodingly at his unfinished rum.
    "Hell, that little tourist really did get to you, didn't she?" Ray observed
    with a low whistle. "Don't worry, boss. She'll be gone in a few days.
    Tourists never stay long on Saint Clair. Especially the nice ones. She liked
    my paintings, you know."
    "So that makes her one of the nice ones, doesn't it?" Jase chuckled
    dryly. He pushed aside his drink and got to his feet. "Keep your eyes open
    for anything on that Haley guy I mentioned, okay?"
    "Sure." Ray nodded and went back to polishing glassware.
    Jase decided to do something he hadn't done in a long time: He decided
    to go to bed before two in the morning. It made a nice change.

    Amy had also gone to bed before two in the morning, but she didn't get
    to sleep until nearly three. She found herself tossing and turning between
    the old worn sheets provided by the Marina Inn management. The rattle
    of the ancient window air conditioner eventually proved more obnoxious
    than the heat of the night, so she slid out of bed, her two-hundred-dollar
    French nightgown trailing gracefully behind her, and shut off the
    offending contraption.
    Standing at the open window for a moment before going back to bed,
    Amy leaned against the sill and stared down at the night-shrouded harbor.
    The lights of The Serpent and a few of the other local bars near the wharf
    were the chief evidence of life at this hour. There was a Navy ship in the
    bay, and occasionally a gaggle of seamen weaved their way along the
    dockside below her.
    How had a man like Jase Lassiter wound up in a place like this? For
    some reason Amy found herself filled with a deep and abiding curiosity on
    the subject. There was a fundamental strength in him that didn't seem to
    fit into a sleazy South Seas harbor town. On the other hand, she reminded
    herself grimly, perhaps it took that kind of strength to survive in this sort
    of atmosphere. She wondered about the wife who had left him. Not many
    women would be foolish enough to set up permanent housekeeping on
    Saint Clair. The unknown wife had probably had good reason for divorcing
    Jase Lassiter.
    With a small sigh Amy turned away from the window and went back to
    bed. She had other matters to worry about on Saint Clair. The history and
    future prospects of one Jase Lassiter were the least of her concerns.
    Still, when she finally did drift off to sleep that night, it was to dream of
    turquoise eyes that gleamed with controlled hunger and of a man's mouth
    that sought both to dominate and persuade. Somehow, in the realm of the
    dream, the hunger seemed more than simple male desire, and the
    dominance and persuasion combined into a plea that made no sense at all
    to Amy.

    The morning sun managed to dazzle Saint Clair with a tropical
    brilliance that hid a little of the weathered, seamy side of the harbor. It
    really was a lovely island, Amy decided as she dressed for breakfast. But
    who would want to spend his whole life here? Men who couldn't handle
    real responsibility?
    She brushed her