Island of Desire

"But seriously, when you get the chance, check in that walk-in freezer downstairs next to the kitchen."

"A walk-in freezer?" She stuttered in disbelief. "But what if the power goes out? All that meat will spoil."

Her brother grimaced. "Oh, we've got a back-up generator. It's like the man was preparing for the zombie apocalypse or something. Or a colonial rebellion. I bet he had it all figured out in his own mind. The natives would get restless, and it would be up to him, the heroic defender of a besieged American outpost, to fight of the rampaging hordes. I can see him now, taking potshots at people from the balcony, with the loyal members of the garrison looking to him for protection and support, and a comely native woman hanging on one arm, ready to give herself to the virile embodiment of American manhood once the enemy had been driven away."

She laughed, caught by the ridiculous picture he painted. "And how are you planning on getting this downstairs?"

"That's where you come in. Lucky for me you woke up. Though...sis?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't you think you should put on some clothes?"

She looked down, finding to her mild surprise that she was nude. "If I help you drag this filthy thing downstairs, all I am going to do is get another set of clothes dirty," she shrugged. "And that just makes more work for Kalele. If I just get my skin dirty, I can take a shower."

"I guess." Connor sounded unconvinced, even as she made her way around the side of the grill to grab hold of one end. "I'll take the downhill side."

"That's very noble of you."

*****

They managed to get the grill downstairs and outside without killing themselves or tearing big ugly gouges in the hardwood floors, an act which Connor was sure would have been met by hurt disapproval by Kalele. Afterward, to Connor's vast if unspoken relief, Brigid went back upstairs to shower and dress. His sister might have been unaware of it, but the scent of sex and musk had clung to her like a second skin. The smell was unaccountably arousing.

A strange mood seemed to have settled over his sibling. Or rather, not a strange mood, but an old one. She less resembled the driven, career-oriented diplomat she had become, and more the high-spirited young woman she had been before...

Before Mom and Dad and Brenda died, his treacherous mind whispered. All the kids in high school might have called her Frigid Brigid, but you knew better, didn't you? Just because she didn't sleep around like some of the other girls doesn't mean she didn't have a sex drive. And you heard the sounds she made late at night. Her bedroom was right next door, and the walls in the old place on Douglas weren't as thick as they could have been. And don't forget about that time she asked you to fix her laptop and you found all the porn she had downloaded. Remember the lecture you read her about computer viruses? She looked like she wanted to drop into a hole in the floor, but she didn't deny a damn thing.

Shut up, he snapped viciously. Can't you be satisfied with what you have? You just had a night out of your wildest fantasies, with a woman who makes most of the women back home look like a bunch of washed-out, pasty-faced sheep, and here you are, drooling over your own sister. Stop it!

He busied himself with cleaning the upstairs hallway, a task swiftly accomplished with a broom, dustpan, and mop, and then preparing a meal, which, he decided, wouldn't quite be lunch and wouldn't quite be supper, but which would definitely include red meat, potatoes of some sort, and alcohol. After the party the previous night, he thought both he and Brigid were entitled to a quiet night at home.

He was just laying the burgers on the grill when she joined him on the patio, dressed simply in a flower-print skirt and a tight button-down blouse, her red hair tied behind her in a simple pony-tail. The clothes flattered her attractive figure, and he looked away hastily, not catching the faint look of hurt on her face. She accepted a cold bottle of beer, which had spent the previous hour chilling in an ice-bucket, with a grateful nod of thanks. "My internal clock is all out of whack again," she complained as she sat down beside him. "I finally managed to get back to local time, and then I stayed up all night."

"All night." He whistled in admiration as she colored, the blush standing out against her fair skin. "I'm impressed. I only lasted until about two in the morning. But of course," he said with a lewd wink, "you're just reaching your sexual peak. I'm on the downhill slide. Too bad, Sis. I guess you're going to have to find yourself a younger man."

It was only after the words had left his mouth that he realized just how suggestive they sounded. But Brigid didn't take offense. She merely burped daintily into a closed fist and raised her eyebrows in mocking disbelief. "Really? From the sounds coming from next door last night, you hardly seem to be needing boner pills. Or was that someone else who was making sweet little Kalele scream your name?" Her voice rose in a falsetto. "'Oh, Connor, fuck me hard!' Wasn't that what she was yelling? I mean, it was kind of hard to tell, what with all the panting and groaning and whatnot."

His face was burning. "How did you know it was Kalele?"

"Tahu told me. He saw you choose her. Right before I chose him."

"Tahu, huh? I suppose you could have done worse."

"I certainly could have. He was fantastic, so strong and gentle. And his..." Belatedly, she cut herself off, apparently deciding that telling her brother about Tahu's manhood wasn't exactly the sort of pre-meal conversation he would appreciate.

Ignoring her rosy blush, he turned over the hamburger patties, then spread some barbeque sauce on them. Grease dripped down, creating small spurts of fire which he extinguished with a squeeze bottle full of water. A toothsome smell rose up, that when combined with the warm afternoon, reminded him of summer nights back home, of his father grilling on the back porch of the small house the five of them had shared back home.

He could see the old man now, holding a can of Budweiser in one hand and a spatula in the other, his skin tanned from a summer at yet another building site. Jeff Flaherty had been a foreman for a construction company, and had always seemed slightly puzzled by his two oldest children. But he had given them all the love and affection they needed, along with rides to little league games, gymnastics competitions, and, as they grew older, trips to math camps and scholastic bowls and college campuses.

Their mother had been the smart one, he always claimed, and secretly Connor thought he was right. Eileen Nesbitt Flaherty had put her own career on hold to care for her children. Her life had been endless rounds of cooking and cleaning, of PTA meetings and school fundraisers. Once the older children were able to look after Brenda, however, she had joined a landscaping business. Her tremendous capacity to organize and her eye for detail had quickly won her a series of promotions, until she was managing entire projects. But her career had only started to regain its lost momentum when her life was cut tragically short.

He sighed and sat down beside Brigid, propping his feet on a chair on the other side of the table.

"Why the long face?" she asked. Her fingers traced the line of his eyebrow, and he shivered. "What are you thinking about?"

He shrugged. "Mom. Dad. Wondering if they would be proud of us." His lips twitched. "Wondering what they would make of this place."

Brigid smiled softly in loving reminiscence. "Mom would love it. Absolutely love it. Remember how much she loved flowers? She would have gone ape to live in a place like this. You're a lot like her, that way.

"Dad?" She shook her head. "I think he would have had a heart attack, seeing the way Elenoa and Kalele and the rest dress. Remember how he used to get all bent out of shape when he saw teenagers with baggy pants?" She deepened her voice in a gruff imitation, "'Pull yer damn pants up, kid. This is America!'"

"God, I miss them." Connor swiped an arm across his eyes. His voice threatened to break.

"Me too," she replied quietly.

"Oh, to hell with this," Connor said, jumping up. He dashed into the house, and returned with his laptop and a pair of speakers. "Let's put on some music!" In a matter of seconds he had his musical library punched up and ready to go.

Brigid laughed out loud as the strains of "Waterloo" blasted from the speakers. "ABBA? Seriously?"

He smiled at her, completely unembarrassed. "Remember when we found all those old vinyl disco records in the back of the living room closet when I was about seven years old, and we played them nonstop until Dad threatened to use them for target practice?"

"Oh, God. You and Brenda would make up these ridiculous dance moves, and Mom would watch you two and laugh. She tried to take you seriously, cause she didn't want to hurt your feelings, but when you weren't looking, she would just sit there and giggle at you until I was sure she was going to pass out."

He grinned and took a deep swig of his beer. "Well, disco is comfort music for me. Silly and mindless and happy. ABBA, Donna Summer, the Bee Gees, Gloria Gaynor, John Denver-"

"John Denver is not disco."

"He was popular in the seventies. He counts."

As the sun went down behind the house, the music played on, changing from disco to contemporary to classical. Connor finished his beer and pulled the burgers from the grill, then went inside to bring out the french fries and baked beans he had made while the burgers were cooking.

"The best of both worlds," he said, setting Brigid's plate in front of her with an elaborate bow. "American burgers in the Paradise Islands."

After they ate, they stayed outside, music softly playing, watching the unfamiliar constellations appear in the night sky. Brigid had always loved star-gazing, and it seemed deeply strange not to see the Big Dipper or Draco hanging in the north, slowly circling Polaris.

The night was warm and humid, and Brigid felt restless. "How about a movie?" she suggested. "As late as I was up last night, I'm nowhere near ready for bed."

At least, not to sleep.

"Sure," Connor shrugged, standing up. She helped him gather up the remnants of the meal, smiling as she carried in the poi bread. Connor had been driven to mute astonishment that there hadn't been a single hamburger bun in the residence. It was only with difficulty that she had dissuaded him from going on a search mission to the village store. Instead, they had used poi bread as makeshift buns. Despite that, the meal had been fantastic.

"What do you want to watch?" he asked, as they finished putting away the leftovers in the refrigerator. At Connor's urging, Brigid had looked at the walk-in freezer, and had been stunned at the depth of Shaw's avarice. It spoke, she thought, of a very frightened man. A man who stockpiled food in the fear that civilization itself would come crashing down. She suspected they would find a cache of weapons and ammunition as well, before long, and made a note to look around the residence in the coming days.

"Flip you for it," she replied, snagging a quarter off the counter. She spun it off her thumb, the twirling sides gleaming in the low light.

"Heads."

She caught it and slapped it down on her wrist. "Tails," she grinned. "I win."

Connor gave a resigned smile and followed Brigid upstairs to her suite, taking two glasses and a bottle of wine along. He poured and set them on the coffee table, then sprawled on the sofa. "I just hope this stuff still works. I wouldn't trust Shaw with a toilet plunger, let alone a flat-screen TV and a DVD player."

Brigid squatted in front of the TV, her finger running down the titles of the DVDs she had shipped to the islands. She could feel her brother's eyes on her and smiled inwardly.

Why not?

"What is this?" Connor asked, as a high-masted schooner, its white sails caught in the breeze, appeared on the screen. The title came up, and he snorted a laugh. "The Blue Lagoon? Seriously, Brigid?"

"Have you ever seen it?" she asked, settling in beside him on the couch.

"No. There's a lot better stuff to watch besides cheesy movies from before I was born."

"Then shut up and watch. It's sweet. It's about love. True love."

Connor made an unconvinced sound in his chest, but made no further protest.

The movie played, and Brigid found herself drifting into a sweet, quiet lassitude. I'm happy, she thought, almost shocked by the realization. How strange that the thought should be so unexpected. But she was. She had all she could possibly want. A safe home, good food and new friends, her brother beside her, and a rewarding job.

She wriggled in beside Connor, sighing as he at last relented and put his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled closer, her head nestled against her brother's chest. She made a quiet, satisfied sound, feeling warm and safe.

Too warm, in fact, despite the efforts of the ceiling fan, its wooden blades circling slowly overhead. She huffed impatiently and moved away, her fingers finding the buttons of her blouse. In moments, she had the hot, confining garment off.

"Um, Brigid? What are you doing?"

"I thought it'd be obvious. It's too hot in here, so I'm taking my shirt off." She moved back under his arm, and sighed contentedly. "There, much better. If the American government won't pay for air conditioning, I'll be damned if I'm going to spend all night sweating."

"Going a bit native, aren't we? Are you going to start wearing those skirts and go topless all the time?"

"If I didn't think my boobs would get all floppy and dangly without a bra, I might," she responded tartly.

"Hmm. It doesn't seem to have made a difference where Elenoa and Kalele are concerned. Maybe you should ask them their secret."

She smiled. "Connor Flaherty," she teased. "Do you mean you want to see your sister walking around without her top on? Shame on you."

"I admit nothing," he responded. But as she settled back she could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat in his chest. A thud that only quickened as Brooke Shields was revealed in all her youthful glory on the screen.

She let her hand fall, not quite casually, onto Connor's thigh. "Do you think I'm as pretty as her?" she asked, her fingers slowly stroking his skin.

"No." Before she could draw in more than a hurt gasp, he continued. "I think you're better." He looked down at her, his dark brown eyes full of some unnameable emotion. "But you're not pretty, Brigid. Pretty is for flowers and little girls.

"You're beautiful."

She blinked rapidly, fighting back tears, but she kept the movements of her hands soft and slow. From the moment she had risen from bed, she had known what she wanted, as surely as a migrating bird knew in what direction north lay. "That's very sweet," she said, keeping her voice light and casual. "Thank you." A quick glance through her lashes told her that her touch was having the desired effect. The front of Connor's shorts was tented. Rather impressively, she realized.

It's time.

She lifted her head, letting her lips nuzzle the warm skin at her brother's throat. Ignoring his startled flinch, she darted her tongue out, tasting him for the first time.

"Jesus, Brigid!" He twisted away, his eyes wide and wild.

She met them firmly. Her chin lifted in challenge. "Don't play the innocent with me, Connor James Flaherty. You've been looking at me all day. And not the way a brother should look at his sister, either. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Men," she said disgustedly. "Either you're putting us up on a pedestal, worshiping from afar, or you're lusting after us like a teenage boy with a stack of magazines. Why don't you just treat me like a woman, you dope?"

"If I did that," he said, his voice harsh with suppressed pain, "I'd be arrested. You know," he continued sarcastically, "it being illegal to have sex with your sister and all."

She shrugged, unconcerned. "And who's going to arrest us here? Do you think these people care about incest? Remember, they're all descended from a few boatloads of explorers who came here centuries ago. Shit, it'd be more surprising if they didn't keep it in the family on occasion."

She moved closer, trapping him against the arm of the sofa. "You asked me, a while back, why I hadn't settled down and got married? I think the answer's right here, Connor." She cupped his groin with her palm, rubbing softly. She had to close her eyes against a surge of desire as she felt his hard male heat for the first time. "The one man I've always wanted is my little brother. But I couldn't have him.

"Not until now."

She watched his face carefully, trying to hide her fear. If he rejected her, she didn't know how she would cope.

His throat worked nervously as he swallowed. "You...want me? Christ, Brigid, why?"

She kissed his lips softly, tenderly. "You idiot. Can't you see how wonderful you are? I want you because I love you.

"I love you, Connor. I love your weird sense of humor and I love how smart you are. I love the way you want to save the planet, even though you always claim you're just trying to make a buck. I love the way your eyes light up when you have a new idea. I even love your terrible fashion sense.

"But most of all," her voice broke. "I love the way you look at me."

"The way I look at you?"

"Yes." She slowly pulled his shirt over his head. "When we're together, you look at me like I'm the only woman in the world. And I know, truly know, Connor, you would never hurt me or betray me. Ever."

"Of course I wouldn't." He blinked up at her as she stroked his chest. "You're all I have left, Brigid."

"I think you're wrong," she said. "But I won't argue." Her busy fingers unbuttoned his shorts and lowered his zipper. With a happy hum she slipped her hand downward. Her breath caught as his erection surged upwards, filling her palm.

"I want to make love with you, Connor. Don't you want to make love with me?

"I'm hot," she whispered in his ear. Before he could protest, she had lowered his shorts to the floor. She drank in his naked form, so different from the night before. This time he was aroused, and she was the cause. His erect cock rose rampant, bobbing in front of her hungry eyes. "And wet. So wet." She guided his hand under her skirt, to the junction of her legs, stifling a happy whimper as she felt his fingers at her gates. "I want you inside me, filling me up. I want that feeling of completion as we come together. And I want us to come together. Your come, inside me."

"You're serious." If there was an expression that went beyond astonished, she was seeing it on her brother's face.

"I've never been more serious in my whole life. We are meant for each other, my love.

"Please." She took his hand and placed it on her breast. "Love me."

She lowered her lips to his mouth, her eyes never leaving his. For an instant that seemed to last a lifetime, she waited for him to reject her, to scramble away and flee into his suite and break her heart a second time.

Instead, in the instant before her mouth touched his lips, he raised his hands, tangling them in her hair, and drew her down for a kiss which rocked her to the bottom of her soul.

He was gentler than she expected, not rough, not hurried. For a long time he was content to simply kiss her and bask in the warmth of her affection. His lips were soft, his tongue skilled, his hands so tender and loving on her body she was tempted to weep.

His hands drifted down her back and cupped her rear as she lay on top of him, pressing downward. She smiled into his mouth and ground her mound down onto the straining length of his cock, his moan music to her ears.