All Night Long

by Anne Mather

  She noticed that Raul had put one arm along the back of the sofa now and she wished she had the nerve to sit back in her seat and see what he would do. As it was, she was perched on the edge of the cushions, her knees pressed tightly together.

  The waiter returned with their drinks and Ally picked up her glass and took a reassuring gulp. But she had the feeling it would take more than another drink to make her relax. She was far too tense for relaxation; far too aware of him and the temptation he evinced.

  ‘So what made you decide to go to the Bahamas?’ he asked, lifting his own drink to his lips.

  ‘Oh—you know.’ Ally shrugged, collecting her thoughts. ‘Sam thought it would be a good idea for me to have a holiday.’

  ‘Your daughter?’

  ‘Mmm.’ She smiled. ‘Like I said, she feels she has to look after me.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’ Raul regarded her gently. ‘You have that effect on people.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think—’

  ‘I mean it.’ To her consternation, she felt the brush of his fingers against her nape. ‘You’re very appealing, Ally. It’s quite a novelty to meet a woman who is so lacking in self-conceit.’

  Ally blushed. She couldn’t help it. ‘You’re just trying to embarrass me now,’ she accused him uncomfortably. She picked up her glass again. ‘When I’ve had this, I’m going to have to say goodnight.’

  Raul glanced at the narrow gold watch on his wrist. ‘It’s early yet,’ he protested.

  ‘For you, maybe.’ Ally caught herself before she admitted that she was usually in bed by half-past ten these days. She glanced behind her. ‘I just want to speak to the waiter first.’

  ‘The waiter?’

  ‘In the restaurant,’ Ally explained. Then, with a certain amount of reticence, ‘I want to ask him to add the cost of my dinner to my room bill, that’s all.’ She looked round again. ‘I wonder where he is?’

  ‘It’s dealt with.’ Raul took a deep breath as Ally turned confused eyes in his direction. ‘I signed the bill before we left the restaurant.’

  ‘Oh, but—’

  ‘I hope you’re not going to embarrass me by refusing to let me buy your dinner,’ he said mildly. ‘It was my pleasure. As I said before, this has been a very pleasant evening.’

  ‘For me, too,’ said Ally impulsively, and he tugged on a strand of her hair.

  ‘Then perhaps you’ll allow me to escort you to your room?’ he suggested, causing her stomach to plunge uncertainly. He grinned. ‘I’m sure Sam would approve.’

  Ally was equally sure that Sam wouldn’t, but she could hardly say that. Not when he had been kind enough to pay for her drinks and her dinner, and for the wine she had consumed so freely throughout the meal. So, ‘All right,’ she agreed, a little breathily, and forced herself not to flinch when he put a hand in the small of her back as he guided her out of the lounge a few minutes later.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT HAD been a dull overcast morning when they’d left London but Nassau was basking in the heat of the afternoon sun. Ally estimated that the temperature outside the airport buildings was hovering somewhere close to ninety. Heat shimmered above the tarmac of the runways and the breeze that stirred the flags hanging limply from their poles was barely enough to temper the humidity that drifted into the Arrivals Hall.

  She and her fellow passengers were waiting for their luggage to be unloaded onto the carousels, and, exchanging a rueful smile with a young mother who was trying to appease two fretful children, Ally tried to rekindle the optimism she’d felt when she’d left Newcastle the afternoon before. She was almost there, she thought determinedly. According to Suzanne, it was just a short flight from New Providence to San Cristobál, where her friend and her husband ran a small hotel. Suzanne had said someone would meet her here at the airport and escort her to the small plane that would take her on the final leg of her journey, and, apart from her own foolish feelings, everything was going according to plan.

  Only it wasn’t, Ally reflected unhappily. Nothing had gone according to plan since she’d allowed Raul—if that really was his name—to pick her up in the hotel bar the night before. Ever since then everything had gone anything but according to plan and she was having a hard time fighting the suspicion that perhaps this holiday wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

  Which was defeatist, perhaps, but it was how she felt. Last night she’d done something totally reckless, totally irresponsible, and all she’d really wanted to do this morning was get on the train again and go home. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could do what she’d done and not get a conscience about it. She’d acted completely out of character, and she dreaded to think how her daughter would feel if she ever found out.

  Of course, there was no reason why Sam should find out, she assured herself. No matter how much she’d wanted to do it, she hadn’t cashed in her air ticket or cancelled her trip, and surely by the time she got back she’d have forgotten all about last night. She doubted if Suzanne would blame her, if she confided in her, but then Suzanne was a woman of the world whereas, for all her modern outlook, Sam could be incredibly old-fashioned when it came to the people she loved.

  ‘Mrs Sloan?’

  The voice came from behind her and when she turned Ally found a man in a short-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts gazing cheerfully at her. He was very tanned, with a fan of creases at each side of his blue eyes that seemed to indicate he spent a lot of time outdoors. Grey-blond hair escaped untidily from the sides of the baseball cap he was wearing back to front and his smile revealed white, but slightly crooked, teeth.

  ‘Yes, I’m Mrs Sloan,’ she said, and he nodded.

  ‘I thought you must be.’ His grin deepened. ‘Suze said to look out for a tall good-looking woman and she wasn’t wrong.’ He pulled off his cap and held out his hand. ‘Mike Mclean at your service, Mrs Sloan. I’m here to fly you over to Saint Chris.’

  ‘Saint Chris?’

  Ally arched an enquiring brow and he gestured towards the carousel. ‘San Cristobál,’ he explained. ‘D’you want to point out your bags and we’ll be on our way?’

  ‘My bags?’ Ally turned back to the conveyor belt that was now moving. ‘Oh—yes.’ She shook her head a little dazedly. ‘I thought—that is, I assumed that whoever Suzanne had sent would be waiting outside.’

  ‘In this heat?’ Mclean grimaced. ‘No. So long as we go through Customs together no one objects.’ He saw her move forward. ‘That’s one of them?’

  In a short while, Mclean had the sports holdall she had borrowed from Ryan and her own suitcase on a luggage trolley and was propelling them towards the exit. Although he wasn’t a particularly tall man, he was obviously strong and capable, and Ally felt no qualms about putting herself into his hands. Indeed, it was a relief to be free of the responsibility for getting to her destination, and she fanned herself a little weakly when they emerged into the sunlight.

  ‘It’s this way,’ he said, directing her along the walkway that led towards the commuter terminal. ‘Did you have a good journey?’

  ‘Um—fairly good.’ Ally was loath to tell him that she’d slept most of the way. But she’d been exhausted and, after lunch had been served, she’d flaked out.

  ‘Marvellous things, these big jets,’ commented Mclean amiably. ‘Makes my little Piper look like a kid’s toy.’ He grinned again. ‘I guess you’d know about kids. Suze tells me you’ve got two of your own.’

  ‘They’re hardly kids,’ murmured Ally. She paused. ‘Do you have children, Mr Mclean?’

  ‘The name’s Mike,’ he said at once. ‘And, no. I’m afraid I’ve never had that pleasure. I’m what Suze calls a crusty old bachelor. More’s the pity.’

  Ally smiled. ‘Hardly crusty,’ she said. ‘And please call me Ally. Mrs Sloan makes me sound like my mother-in-law. My ex-mother-in-law, I mean,’ she added hastily. ‘I’m divorced.’

  ‘Yeah. Suze told me that, too,’ he admitted, his tone sympathetic. Then, ‘But you’ve done th
e right thing coming out here. Smuggler’s Cove is a beautiful spot.’

  ‘Is it?’ Smuggler’s Cove was where Suzanne and her husband, Peter Davis, had their hotel. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing it. To seeing the whole island,’ she appended. ‘Is it very big?’

  ‘Nah. About eight miles long and five across at best.’ He saw she was flagging and waited for her to catch up. ‘Of course, Suze will have told you that the Ramirezes own most of the island, but what’s left is pretty damn spectacular, I can tell you.’

  Ally frowned. ‘Why would Suzanne have mentioned—who was it you said?—the Ramirezes to me?’

  ‘Well, because Julia is going to marry their son,’ explained Mike carelessly. Julia was Suzanne’s daughter, Ally recalled. He pointed at the single-engined aircraft that awaited them on the tarmac. ‘There’s my pride and joy. And don’t worry; I’ve got an icebox on board. I bet you could murder a cold drink?’

  He hastened ahead so that by the time she’d reached the small Cherokee he’d already stowed her bags in the back. ‘Welcome aboard,’ he said, helping her up the short flight of steps into the cabin. ‘You’re going to feel a whole lot better when we get off the ground.’

  Ally hoped so. Right now, she felt hot and uncomfortable, the shirt and denim trousers that had felt too thin in London now damp and sticking to her skin. She’d removed the jacket she’d worn to travel in as soon as she’d got off the plane but she was still sweating. She should have brought a change of clothes in her hand luggage, she thought ruefully. But then, this morning she’d been too bemused to think of things like that.

  This morning…

  Pushing that thought aside, she settled into the seat beside Mike and sipped a cola as he completed his pre-flight checks. Then he adjusted his earphones and she heard the static buzz as the control tower responded to his request for clearance for take-off.

  ‘Not long now,’ he said, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. ‘These guys are pretty efficient.’

  Ally nodded, hoping she wouldn’t disgrace herself. She’d never flown in such a small aircraft before and, when Mike taxied to the end of the runway, she felt her stomach quiver.

  But then they were moving, faster and faster, and in no time at all it seemed they were off the ground and soaring into the blue, blue sky. Nassau, and the island of New Providence, fell away below them and although she still felt a little nervous, her fears seemed foolish. Mike was obviously at home behind the controls and his enthusiasm was infectious.

  ‘Is that San Cristobál?’ she asked, after a few minutes, noticing another island on the horizon. But Mike shook his head.

  ‘Hell, no,’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s Andros. It’s the biggest island in the group. San Cristobál is one of the smallest.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Ally grimaced and Mike grinned at her. ‘Hey, it was a reasonable question,’ he said. Then, pointing down, he added, ‘Can you see the reef? It runs the whole length of Andros. People come from all over the world to dive around the coral.’

  ‘Really?’

  Ally gazed down, entranced, and forgot to be worried. There was so much more to see from this small plane than from the big jumbo that she’d flown in from London. She could see dozens of islands now, strung out like pearls across the ocean, and even the sails of larger yachts that were cruising the calm waters below them.

  Her stomach tightened. Perhaps one of those yachts was owned by the company Raul worked for, she thought tensely. He’d said they chartered yachts all over the Caribbean, catering to the increasingly popular demand for sailing craft. She wished she’d asked him what the name of the company was. Although he probably wouldn’t have told her. A man who slept with a woman and then left before she woke up was hardly likely to leave his calling card.

  She pressed her lips together. It was her own fault, of course. There was no point in blaming him for what had happened. It was she who’d let him buy her a drink; she who’d accepted his invitation to dinner. And it was she who’d invited him into her room for a nightcap, precipitating the events that had followed…

  She shivered. It all seemed faintly unbelievable now, but it had happened. She had done all those things and more besides. If she was now regretting the whole affair, it served her right. She should have known better.

  But, oh, nothing like that had ever happened to her before. All right, she’d been a fool, but she’d also been incredibly vulnerable. Had he guessed that she would have little defence against his practised charm? That, even though he was considerably younger than she was, she wasn’t more experienced? It wasn’t as if she’d led him on. Or not intentionally, she amended, with a grimace.

  And yet, had it been such a bad experience? Ally sighed. If she was absolutely honest with herself she would have to admit that it hadn’t. In fact, it was probably because it had been so incredibly satisfying that she was feeling so hurt—so confused—now.

  But what had she expected? That something more would come of it? That he might swear undying love for her on the basis of one good night’s sex? Come on, Ally, she chided herself inwardly. Grow up!

  But she couldn’t prevent her mind from drifting back to the moment when they’d reached her door and the mistake she’d made by inviting him in…

  ‘I—want to thank you again,’ she began, fumbling in her bag for her key-card. ‘You’ve saved me from spending a rather anxious evening on my own. I’m not used to travelling alone, and I was feeling a little apprehensive.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ said Raul, taking the rescued key-card out of her hand and inserting it in the lock for her. The green light flashed and he smiled. ‘There you go.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Ally turned the handle and opened the door. She stepped inside and then glanced back over her shoulder. ‘Um—goodnight.’

  ‘Didn’t you forget something?’

  Ally swallowed. Of course, she thought unhappily. He expected her to invite him in. That was why he’d offered to escort her to her door. All the rooms had mini-bars and he would know that. What could be more natural than to invite him in for a nightcap? It was the accepted thing to do. Or it would be if she had more confidence in herself.

  And yet…

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, not looking at him, pretending to be intent on closing her handbag. ‘Er—I should have asked. Would you like to come in for a drink?’

  Let him say no, she begged, forcing herself to turn and face him. And then her cheeks burned when she saw the key-card in his hand.

  ‘A drink?’ he echoed now, handing her the key-card, and she realised it hadn’t been his intention to invade her privacy. ‘Well, I—’

  ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to,’ she broke in hurriedly, but she knew as soon as she spoke that she’d said the wrong thing. She sounded as if she might take offence if he refused, and, as if to endorse this thought, Raul inclined his head.

  ‘Why not?’ he said, stretching out an arm to press the door wider. His lips twisted. ‘We might as well end the evening as we began it. Please, go ahead.’

  A maid had been into the room while she was at dinner and now the queen-size bed was turned down and a cellophane-wrapped chocolate had been placed on her pillow. In the lamplight, the room looked warm and personal and Ally’s tension increased in direct opposition to its implied intimacy.

  The door closed behind her guest and, casting him a rather panic-stricken glance, she threw her handbag onto the bed and hastened towards the refrigerated cabinet. The cool air from inside was balm to her hot cheeks and she scanned its contents with anxious eyes, looking for a small bottle of single malt.

  ‘Whisky?’ she asked, finding what she was looking for and lifting it out. She closed the door of the cabinet with her hip and leaned back against it. ‘I’m afraid there doesn’t appear to be any ice.’

  Raul had paused in the middle of the floor and was looking about him with some interest. But now he regarded her with considering eyes.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said.
‘In all honesty, I’ve probably drunk more than I should have anyway.’ He gave her a gentle smile. ‘But thanks for the offer.’

  Ally shook her head. Conversely, now that he was rejecting the drink, she was disappointed. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘It’s no trouble, you know.’

  Raul hesitated. ‘Well, if you insist…’

  ‘I’ll get a glass,’ she said, once again on the defensive. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’

  There were glasses in the bathroom, she remembered with some relief, but she had to pass him to get to the bathroom door. Easing round him, she managed to reach her objective without embarrassing herself still further and she gratefully switched on the light. The fluorescent glow was reassuringly bright and she managed to unscrew the cap and pour the contents of the bottle into one of the squat water glasses without spilling any.

  She was reluctant to leave the impersonal brilliance of the bathroom for the discreetly lit surroundings of the bedroom, however. Pausing in the doorway, she said, ‘Here you are,’ and extended the glass towards him so that Raul was obliged to move into the harsher light to take it. She injected a note of polite interest into her voice. ‘I hope it’s all right.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be.’ Raul swallowed a mouthful of the whisky and nodded. ‘It’s fine,’ he said quietly. Then, ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Ally wrapped her arms about her midriff. ‘Oh—you mean because I’m not having a drink? Well, actually, I feel as though I’ve drunk too much, too. Particularly as I’ve got a long flight in the morning. I just hope I’ll wake up in time. Perhaps I should order one of those wake-up calls—’

  She was babbling; she knew it. And she was hardly surprised when he broke into her prattle to say in an oddly flat tone, ‘I’d better go.’ He paused. ‘I can see I’m making you nervous, and it is late.’

  ‘Oh, but—’ Ally moistened her lips. ‘You—you haven’t finished your drink.’