Bay of Rainbows

by Dana James

  Thank goodness she hadn’t mentioned the kiss. No doubt he had already forgotten all about it. After all, it hadn’t meant anything. In fact, it was so totally unimportant that she really had no idea why it hadn’t slipped her mind as well.

  She lifted one shoulder in a semi-shrug. ‘You didn’t introduce me to anyone else either. So assuming it wasn’t bad manners or simply an oversight, you must have had a reason.’

  He nodded. ‘I did, but you won’t like it.’

  ‘There are quite a few things about today I haven’t liked, Mr Bryce. One more won’t make much difference.’

  ‘Nathan, please.’ As she opened her mouth to protest he added, ‘Humour me.’ And despite his smile and the teasing note in his voice, the look in his eyes said it was an order.

  Realising she had no chance of winning an argument against the use of first names when they were about to spend several weeks alone at sea together, Polly made a brief gesture of acquiescence.

  ‘And what do I call you?’ he enquired.

  ‘Madam?’ she suggested.

  His eyes narrowed dangerously and for a split-second Polly held her breath. But then she noticed that the corners of his mouth were twitching and realised he was finding it hard not to laugh. ‘You certainly are different from most of the young women I meet, Miss Levington,’ he observed thoughtfully.

  ‘You mean I have a brain,’ Polly flashed him her sweetest smile. Then, giving him no chance to respond, she said, ‘I was christened Paula Mary Josephine, but everyone calls me Polly.’ She placed her knife and fork side by side on her empty plate. ‘All right, why didn’t you introduce me?’

  ‘Because it suits me for Louis to believe I have problems, and that I’m trying to forget them in the arms of an attractive young woman I’m not willing to share.’ He took another drink, watching her all the time.

  Polly swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry at the thought of those bronzed and powerful arms holding her close against his lean, hard-muscled body as, with a warning glare, he kept those who would come between them at bay.

  It wasn’t easy to maintain a light level tone as she asked, ‘Is that the way you usually deal with problems? By running away from them?’ The images his words had triggered were running riot in her brain, and it took all her strength to blot them out.

  ‘No,’ said Nathan, refilling his glass.

  ‘Then why let that awful little man think it is?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  Having expected him to justify his actions, Polly was taken aback by his response.

  ‘Come on,’ he insisted. ‘You’re so proud of this brain of yours. Let’s see it in action.’

  Furious with him, and with herself for walking into the trap, Polly re-ran the conversation between the two men. Her frown clearing, she looked up. ‘If you’ve got problems with your boat then he has one less competitor to worry about.’

  ‘Exactly. And with Louis concentrating on the other competitors, there’s a good chance my meeting in Athens will go completely unnoticed.’

  ‘But what about your team’s morale and concentration?’ Polly asked.

  Nathan smiled. ‘My team are winners. They know better than to believe anything they hear, unless I’m the person who tells them.’

  ‘What about me?’ she demanded.

  His eyes glittered. ‘Do you really think I’m the kind of man who would run from anything?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ Polly cried. ‘I agreed to sail with you as cook . . . and crew,’ she forced herself to add. ‘Having it spread around the Mediterranean that I’m another of Nathan Bryce’s bimbos was not part of the deal. And you’re right, I don’t like it.’

  ‘But that’s precisely why I didn’t introduce you to Louis,’ Nathan reminded her smoothly. ‘Neither he nor anyone else knows who you are.’

  ‘That’s not the point!’ Seething with anger and frustration, Polly pushed back her chair and stood up. Immediately, he rose to his feet. It appeared to be no more than a gesture of politeness, but Polly knew he was poised to block her slightest move towards the door.

  Not that she intended trying to leave—she had nowhere to go. Besides, jumping bail would make her a criminal. That was something she couldn’t face. Being accused and knowing she was innocent had been bad enough.

  Yet the longer she spent with Nathan Bryce the harder it was to accept that for the next four weeks her only escape from him would be in sleep. But what if she dreamed . . .?

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said with exaggerated politeness, ‘I’d like to freshen up.’

  Nathan’s brows rose. ‘This seems an odd time to choose.’

  ‘That’s women for you,’ Polly retorted blithely.

  ‘You wouldn’t think of trying to leave without me, would you, Polly?’ His soft words had a steely undertone of warning that was reflected in his eyes.

  ‘Why don’t you bribe a waiter to stand outside the door?’ she snapped back, then stalked past him without a backward glance, acutely aware of the small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as his gaze followed her. Blasted man.

  She came out of the cubicle to find a woman in a figure-hugging red dress, with a plunging neckline that revealed most of her tanned bosom, repairing her lipstick in the mirror above one of the washbasins. As Polly rinsed and dried her hands she was aware of being studied.

  The woman closed her purse with a snap. ‘How did you do it?’ she demanded, her tone a mixture of curiosity and envy.

  Polly’s head flew round. ‘Pardon me?’

  ‘Oh, that’s good. That’s very good.’ Malice sharpened the woman’s features, and Polly realised that beneath the artfully applied make-up she was nearer forty than thirty. ‘Playing the wide-eyed innocent, are we?’ She smoothed the clinging dress over her hips, eyeing herself in the glass. ‘It might just work, for a while. Men are so easily deceived.’

  Shaken, but determined not to show it, sensing that any sign of vulnerability would lay her open to further attack, Polly drew herself up. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,’ she said icily. Lifting her bag from the shelf, she slung the strap over her shoulder and turned to go, only to find that the woman had placed herself between her and the door.

  ‘I’m talking about Nathan Bryce.’ The woman glanced at her reflection, fluffing her expensively streaked hair, then smoothing one finely plucked eyebrow with a fingertip.

  To Polly the long, crimson-enamelled nails looked as though they had been dipped in blood. And the hostility she saw in the woman’s eyes made her shudder inwardly.

  ‘How on earth did you hook him? I’ve never known him go for the skinny boyish type before.’ She sighed indulgently, but her eyes were cold and furious. ‘Men are so fickle, so easily bored, always on the look-out for something new and different.’ Her glance raked Polly from head to toe. ‘But you won’t last a week,’ her tone was scathing. ‘Nathan needs a woman, not a simpering virgin.’

  Polly swallowed. Was it that obvious? Her heart thumping against her ribs, she tilted her chin, fighting a confusion of emotions, some of which she didn’t dare examine too closely.

  ‘I have not hooked Nathan Bryce,’ she snapped, her cheeks on fire as a kaleidoscope of images whirled through her brain. ‘Nor do I want to.’

  She determinedly ignored the vivid memory of his kiss, so brief yet as indelible as a brand.

  She was grateful, that was all. If he hadn’t posted bail for her she would now be preparing for her first night in jail. But gratitude was all she felt, and even that was overshadowed by anger at the way he had blackmailed her into sailing with him.

  ‘What we have is purely a business arrangement.’ Too late Polly realised that her words were open to a very different interpretation from the one she intended, and her heart sank as the woman’s face creased into a hard-edged cynical smile.

  ‘Oh, he’s paying you, is he? Well, I suppose you do have some novelty value. What’s the going rate these days?’

  Reelin
g under the dreadful insult, Polly tilted her chin a little higher, determined not to let the woman see her hurt and fury. ‘I’m sure you know more about such things than I do,’ she replied, amazed that she could sound so calm.

  She watched the barb strike home, then delivered her parting shot. ‘But Nathan Bryce has just parted with twenty-five thousand pounds in order to have me with him.’

  As the woman’s mouth sagged open Polly walked past her to the door.

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ the woman spluttered. ‘You’re lying.’

  Polly shrugged lightly. ‘Ask him,’ she retorted, and marched out, leaving the woman staring speechlessly after her.

  But as she made her way back to the table, Polly’s fierce satisfaction at having the last word in what had been a nerve-shattering encounter quickly faded.

  First Nathan had thought she was easy because he had seen her with Giles. His opinion had been reinforced by the fact that she had agreed to sail with Clive. Now this woman, a complete stranger, was saying the same thing because she was with Nathan. She felt angry and degraded.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Nathan enquired as she resumed her seat.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied curtly.

  ‘You seem a little tense.’

  ‘Tense? Me?’ Polly’s laugh was brief and bitter. ‘What possible reason could I have for being tense? As if I hadn’t been through enough today, I’ve just been dubbed your plaything of the week—’

  ‘What?’ The look on his face literally stopped her breath.

  ‘You heard.’ There was no way she was going to boost his ego by repeating the slander. ‘But apart from that everything’s fine, wonderful, couldn’t be better.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Nathan gave a bland smile. Not a trace remained of the cold rage that had set his face like granite.

  Polly’s fury doubled. How dared he be angry? It was she who had been insulted. Only the waiter arriving with their main course stopped her telling Nathan Bryce exactly what she thought of him and his female acquaintances. The effort of holding it all in made her feel as though she was about to explode.

  ‘It does seem,’ Nathan mused as the waiter departed once more, ‘that things are working out quite well after all.’

  ‘For you, maybe.’ Polly attacked her fish.

  ‘Now how can you complain?’ There was something in his voice that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. ‘After all, even though Clive Kemp is locked up, you’re still making the trip you’d looked forward to so much.’

  The succulent fish turned to sawdust in Polly’s mouth and she had difficulty swallowing. Holding the glass tightly so that her hand wouldn’t shake, she sipped the cool water, then met his gaze. ‘Let’s not pretend I had a choice. The conditions amounted to blackmail.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ he contradicted gently. ‘It was a business agreement.’

  Food forgotten, Polly glared at him. ‘Is that how you measure everything in life?’ she demanded, struggling to control her voice. ‘By whether or not it’s good business?’

  His calm smile never faltered. ‘Given that I’m a businessman, what else would you suggest?’

  ‘And I suppose it’s just too bad if people get hurt,’ she cried. ‘The end justifies the means. Secure the deal and to hell with integrity or compassion.’

  His features hardened. ‘Who’s been hurt? I’ve just got you released from jail. Given that you, not I, were arrested, whose integrity is open to question? And as for compassion, haven’t I just provided your first decent meal of the day? But of course,’ his tone flayed like a whip, ‘you’ve never done a dishonest thing in your life.’

  As she opened her mouth Polly remembered she had deliberately withheld the fact that she couldn’t sail. She swallowed quickly and moistened her lips. ‘It isn’t my morals that are being questioned.’

  ‘No?’ he said softly. ‘Then what else has today been all about?’

  Polly glared at him. Then she felt the blood drain from her face as she realised he was right. The Customs men had believed she was a drug-smuggler; Nathan had assumed she had virtually jumped out of Giles’s bed and into Clive’s. And that dreadful woman in the ladies’ cloakroom—no, that didn’t bear thinking about.

  For though the thought of making love with either Giles or Clive made her cringe in distaste, imagining Nathan Bryce’s arms around her, his mouth plundering hers as he moulded her against his powerful, hard-muscled length, sent hot sweet sensation lancing through her body.

  Shocked, and bitterly ashamed at the treachery of her own feelings, Polly bent her head to hide her flushed face. How could she even think such things about a man whose reputation as a womaniser rivalled Casanova’s? Where was her pride? Her self-respect?

  Giles’s taunts about her sexual naïveté had stung. Though he had gone through the motions of caring she saw now with the painful wisdom of hindsight that, despite all his assurances of love and respect for her, he had really only been interested in his own pleasure, pursuing it with all the subtlety of a bulldozer.

  With Clive the situation had never arisen. If it had, she would have handled it with a decisiveness that left no room for misunderstandings.

  But Nathan Bryce had only to look at her for her heart to skip a beat, then race out of control. Just being near him made her skin exquisitely sensitive. His briefest touch was an electric shock. All her senses were highly tuned to him.

  It didn’t mean anything, she told herself fiercely. She’d had an extremely stressful day. Things had got a bit out of proportion. A good night’s sleep would see her back to normal—sensible and rational, and perfectly capable of ignoring such ridiculous flights of fancy.

  Polly set down her knife and fork, unable to face another mouthful. Suddenly she was aware of her cardigan being draped around her shoulders and slowly she looked up to see Nathan standing beside her. Taking her arm, he drew her to her feet, his body shielding her from the rest of the room.

  She stood quivering in his grasp, terrified he might somehow guess what she had been thinking. His warm hand sliding down to clasp hers was both comfort and torture.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong. I’m fine, really,’ she blurted, stretching her mouth into a smile which she sensed didn’t quite come off.

  Nathan’s face was unreadable. ‘I think it’s time we went back to the boat.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  They made their way along the marina without speaking. But it wasn’t a comfortable, companionable silence, at least not for Polly. She felt emotionally battered and thoroughly outraged. None of this mess was of her making, yet she was just as much a prisoner as if she had been in gaol like Clive.

  Her spirit had been severely dented by the shocks of the past twelve hours. But, regardless of how she felt, she had to put on a good face. Her pride and self-respect demanded it.

  Straightening her spine, she shot him a glance. ‘I suppose it’s too much to expect that you might look at what’s happened today from my point of view.’

  ‘Why should you think that?’

  Polly found his tone of polite enquiry and total absence of facial expression disconcerting. She hadn’t a clue as to what was going on in his mind. No doubt this ability to mask his thoughts and feelings was vital in the cut-throat world he inhabited, but she found it unnerving. It was like being lost in the dark. You couldn’t see the signposts.

  ‘Because men are only really interested in two things—money and status.’

  Nathan looked down at her, one heavy brow rising. That was something else she found maddening, the fact that he towered over her. Not that she felt threatened, at least, not physically. But it did give him yet one more advantage in a situation already loaded against her.

  At five feet eight she was above the average height for a woman. And when she wore heels she was frequently taller than the men she worked for—a situation which, to her amusement and relief, they seemed to find slightly intimidating.

  Unfortunately, this had not held t
rue with her last boss. His inability to keep his hands to himself had led to her resignation. The unexpected break, hard on the heels of her disaster with Giles, had nudged her into accepting Clive’s invitation. Which in turn was responsible for the disastrous mess she was in now. Damn all men, Polly thought fiercely.

  ‘This idea about men caring only for money and status,’ Nathan said thoughtfully, ‘is it a long-held opinion, or one you’ve arrived at recently?’

  There was no trace of a smile on his face, so why did she have the feeling he was laughing at her? ‘Today has merely confirmed years of observation,’ she retorted stiffly.

  ‘Cynicism doesn’t become you,’ he chided, his eyes ocean-deep as they reflected the lights at the edge of the marina. ‘You’re far too young and beautiful to—’

  ‘Don’t patronise me,’ Polly flared, furious at the treacherous thrill his words provoked. He probably had a Master’s degree in flattery. ‘I’m twenty-four. Hardly a child.’

  ‘But not yet a woman,’ he said softly.

  Grateful that the darkness hid her fiery blush, Polly clutched her cardigan more closely around her. She might as well be wearing a notice. How could she possibly tell him that her limited sexual experience was a matter of choice, not lack of opportunity? She could just imagine him saying, ‘Yes, of course,’ while his eyes betrayed amusement and pity.

  The temporary nature of her job, staying only a few weeks at any one place, meant she had met and worked for a wide variety of men. Though pleasant and friendly, she had always kept her professional and private lives totally separate, making it quite clear that, for her, business and pleasure did not mix.

  What strange quirk of fate had forced her into working for Nathan Bryce—the most handsome, fascinating and ruthless man she had ever met? She had always been a confident, outgoing person. So how was it he could make her feel uncertain and inadequate, yet set her a-quiver with treacherous delight at his lightest touch?

  ‘My private life is none of your business,’ she said tightly.

  ‘It is when you expect me to accept a pronouncement about men offered as fact and founded on ignorance,’ he responded at once. ‘However, you do have a point.’