Duel of Passion

by Madeleine Ker

  Òh, she puts me in the shade. She has the most beautiful hair, long and golden-red, and bright blue eyes. We grew up together. Her mother and mine are very close. As a child, I was always being asked why I wasn't more like my cousin Jennifer.' Sophie couldn't help her lips tightening slightly. 'When we got older, she used to steal all my boyfriends.'

  His eyes were warm. 'But not any more?'

  `W ell, she meets enough men of her own at university nowadays. But it's a good job I've moved to London. I never particularly like losing my favourite men to my younger cousin.'

  Kyle looked amused. But it was the truth. She knew for a fact that Jenny was sexually far more experienced than she herself was. They had always been a paradoxical pair—Jenny, the scientist, supposed to be so cool and precise, yet in her teens an expert on men; Sophie, the actress, who had still, at twenty-three, never been made love to by a man ...

  She had finished eating. And he still didn't know who she was. 'Well,' she said lightly, rising, 'please excuse me. I'm going to have a little lie-down until it's cool enough to swim.'

  He rose with automatic courtesy. 'See you on the beach, then,' he said.

  She felt his eyes boring into her back as she walked away.

  `There's something very familiar about you, Sophie Webb.'

  Sophie's poise didn't falter in the slightest as she looked up from the breakfast table a few mornings later.

  He'd said that twice over the past few days. Whenever they had met, in fact. But if he hadn't recognised her by now, after all the hours he'd spent in her company, he wasn't going to recognise her this morning, with her wearing her sunglasses and a wide-brimmed straw hat as she breakfasted on the hotel terrace, against a backdrop of palms and blue sea.

  She was wearing a pale gold sundress over her metallic scarlet one-piece costume, and the colour made her toffee-tanned skin look lusciously smooth.

  Ìt's a little late for that line, isn't it?' she said with light irony. 'Maybe you should ask me if I come here often.

  Ì'm being serious,' he smiled, standing in front of her. 'As I came on to the terrace, it struck me again. You're very like somebody I've met once before, but I just can't place who or when. Can I join you for breakfast?'

  Ìf you insist on sharing your every meal with me,' she said gently, 'people are going to talk.'

  They'd got into the habit of lunching together, and had had dinner together the night before, too. He sat down anyway, looking amused. 'I'll take the chance on my reputation. And, considering that we're both here on our own ...'

  She scooped the seeds out of her papaw, and gave him a glance. He was wearing trousers and a loose cotton shirt, open to show the tanned column of his throat. He looked stunning. She forced herself to keep up the light, cool tone she'd adopted from their very first exchanges. `Considering we're both here on our own?' she prompted.

  `W ell, eating at the same table is hardly cohabitation.' He picked up the menu. 'Sleep well last night?'

  `Fine,' she lied. 'Where's Emma?'

  `Coming in a minute. I'm starting to realise that I'm not very good at dealing with grooming an eight-year old girl.' He turned to the waiter who had materialised beside them, and ordered grapefruit, rolls and coffee. Sophie took advantage of the waiter's presence to ask for a fresh pot of Earl Grey tea.

  They'd spent most of yesterday afternoon on the beach, talking and swimming, and he hadn't suspected for a moment that he knew her.

  Last night, over their dinner of lobster, oysters and a variety of seafoods, she'd wondered if memory would return. After all, it wasn't exactly the first time that Kyle Hart had faced her across a restaurant table.

  But though he'd frowned, and kept probing her for information about herself, recognition had not dawned. Nor, on the other hand, had he made any secret of his attraction towards the woman he still thought of as a stranger met by chance on holiday. He'd made no effort to hide the fact that he was interested in her. Very interested.

  She'd looked into those tawny-green eyes last night, and had seen the speculation in them. She knew he was intrigued by her. And she'd remembered that this man had once had to restrain himself from laughing in her face.

  Well, now the boot was on the other foot. Now it was she who had to bite back her amusement, to stop herself from telling him what a complete fool he was making of himself.

  Would he ever see Sophie Aspen as she really was?

  History was repeating itself. Once again, Kyle Hart's eyes hadn't looked beneath the surface. Once again, he was focusing on the external image. Once again, her appearance was all that mattered to him, as though what she was inside was irrelevant. The only difference was that last time he had seen only Maisie Wilkin, the overweight owl. This time he was seeing only Sophie Webb, mysterious and attractive model.

  It had been on the tip of her tongue several times over the past few days to tell him who she was, and see the look on his face as realisation set in. But, as it had grown clearer that he still didn't have the remotest idea who she was, she'd decided not to tell him. Not yet, anyway. She was waiting to see how things would turn out.

  And things were turning out in a rather amusing way.

  He had even kissed her goodnight after dinner last night. She'd just let his lips touch her cheek before she'd drawn quickly away, and with a faint smile had locked herself into her room.

  Once, she'd have given her right arm for a kiss from Kyle Hart.

  Now, knowing what she did about his shallowness, his cruelty, his superficiality, she was left cold by him. Almost.

  Emma arrived to join them. The eight-year-old had taken a strong fancy to Sophie over the past few days, and she was chattering brightly as she clambered up on to the chair next to her.

  Àre you coming to the beach this morning?' she asked hopefully.

  `Yep.' Sophie pulled down the shoulder of her sundress to show the red strap of her costume against her brown skin. 'I'm all ready.'

  `Great! Can we come?'

  'I'll think about it,' Sophie smiled. 'What do you fancy for breakfast?'

  `Kippers and scrambled egg,' came the unhesitating reply. 'It's my favourite.'

  `No kippers,' Sophie said regretfully, consulting the menu.

  `Kingfish and ackee come pretty close,' Kyle suggested. `Kingfish isn't kippers, and ackee isn't egg, but I think you'll enjoy it.'

  ÒK,' the child conceded. 'I'm going to build a huge sandcastle this morning, bigger than yesterday.'

  `Her father,' Kyle smiled, 'is an architect.'

  `W hat is ackee?' Sophie wanted to know, after they'd given the order to the waiter. 'I've seen it on the menu every morning, but I've never risked it.'

  Kyle was trying to put Emma's dark curls into order. Competent as his long fingers were, they weren't doing much of a job. 'It's very tasty,' he said. 'Actually, it's a fruit, but it ends up a vegetable equivalent of scrambled egg. It was introduced by Captain Bligh.'

  `The Mutiny on the Bounty man?'

  `Yes,' he nodded. 'Another odd thing about it—it's poisonous until it's ripe, and then it sort of pops open, ready to cook.'

  `Here.' She took pity on his amateurish efforts with Emma's hair. 'Let me do that. What do you want, Emma, a plait or pigtails?'

  `Pigtails,' Emma decided. Sophie found rubber bands and a comb in her beachbag, and started neatening the child's hair, watched by Kyle. 'How do you know so much about Jamaica?' she asked him. 'Have you been here before?'

  Ì've worked all over the Caribbean,' Kyle smiled. 'In my younger, wilder days.'

  `W orked? As a banker?'

  `Mainly on yachts,' he answered.

  Sophie's eyebrows rose. She glanced at him over Emma's head. 'Do tell'

  `Not likely,' he said easily. 'My disreputable past isn't a fit topic for the breakfast table.

  Besides,' he added with a glint, 'everyone needs a little mystery.'

  'Touché,' she nodded, amused.

  When Emma's ackee arrived Sophie sampled it, and found it every
bit as delicious as Kyle had promised. After breakfast, the three of them went down to the beach.

  It was another glorious morning, the sun blazing down from a cloudless sky. Sophie watched while Kyle swam, his muscular shoulders cutting an easy swathe through the surf. The child's presence had curtailed the rather dangerous flirtation that had been developing between them, which had been something of a relief. She was finding flirting with Kyle Hart to be a definite strain.

  After a while Kyle emerged, dripping, and dried himself vigorously. Sophie couldn't take her eyes off him, fascinated by the way his body moved, the powerful muscles pulsing and relaxing in such perfect harmony. He was a man who would do everything to perfection, from dancing to making love ...

  He flopped down beside her on his back, closing his eyes with a sigh.

  `This is the life. God, to think I have to go back to work some day!'

  Ìt is rather hard to see you in a bank,' she admitted.

  She pretended to be absorbed in her book, but she was really thinking about herself, about Maisie Wilkin, and about Kyle Hart.

  Especially about Kyle.

  He was magnificent, really. No wonder he had an oversized ego. And no wonder he'd been so contemptu-

  ous about Maisie. Beautiful people tended to be very unkind about those not so favoured as themselves.

  But such shallowness deserved punishment. He shouldn't be allowed to get away with such a callous attitude. Somehow, she knew she could turn the present situation round to get her own back.

  Somehow ...

  Last night, after showering, she'd gone to stand on the balcony to look at the midnight sea, and she'd realised that if she wanted to she was in a position to deal a blow to

  Kyle's pride that would make up in some way, at least, for the blow he had dealt to hers.

  The only question was how to deal it in the fortnight she had left on Jamaica.

  Sophie turned her head slightly to study Kyle. In repose, his face was cruelly beautiful.

  No man had any right to be so damned beautiful. No man had any right to possess a figure like that.

  His broad chest moved in a slow, tranquil rhythm as he dozed off in the sun. Beads of water glistened like pearls against the bronzed skin that was so fine for a man's. What would it feel like to reach out and caress that muscular throat, trace the way it met the bending curve of his collarbone, continue across those broad pectoral muscles to the dark, hard points of his man's nipples?

  The idea was both exciting and frightening. Any woman would be half afraid to awak e the animal in this man. His masculinity was so very formidable; it was evident in every movement, in his speech, in the crisp hair that started just below the arching wings of his ribcage, making its way across the tightly defined muscles of his stomach to the dark triangle of his Speedo.

  She looked away, weird feelings turning her blood into ice, then into flame. Well, she'd once had a monumental crush on this man, and it was too soon to pretend that she felt indifference. In any case, very few female hearts would ever feel totally indifferent to Kyle.

  Then what did she feel?

  Avoiding the question, she moved her gaze to little Emma, who was adding another turret to the sandcastle she was building, far too close to the threatening w aves. Poor kid. Sophie really hoped that she would still have a home to go back to once this holiday was over.

  A larger wave than the rest suddenly came rippling up the beach, flooding Emma's sandcastle. With a squeak of dismay, she tried to protect her creation, but it was too late. The retreating water left only a shapeless lump where the castle had stood.

  Òh, no!'

  Smiling, Sophie got to her feet, and went over to help Emma rebuild her palace. 'You'll have to make it further back from the sea,' she told the woebegone little girl. 'I know all the lovely moist sand is down here, but we'll carry it up in the bucket.'

  In a few minutes, Emma was intently decorating the walls of a new, even bigger castle with sea shells. Sophie sat beside her, watching and giving advice.

  As the topmost turret went into place, she nodded approval. 'W hat you need now is a Union Jack to fly from the top.'

  Emma's eyes shone. 'Oh, that would be perfect! But I haven't got one.'

  'I have.' Smiling, Sophie produced the little paper flag on its toothpick. 'It was on the breakfast table. When you said you were going to build a sandcastle, I knew you'd need it'

  Delighted, the child planted the flag on her battlements, and Sophie left her playing imaginary kings and queens in her palace and went back to her book.

  As she settled down beside Kyle he turned his head lazily towards her, opening his eyes to smoky green slits.

  `You're being very kind to the kid,' he said softly.

  She shook the sand off her book. 'I like children. And Emma's a lovely little girl.'

  Ì was thinking of taking her to Dunn's River Falls this afternoon, in the car. It's a spectacularly beautiful place. You can climb up the waterfall from the sea, along a sort

  of a ladder of pools and shelves. You have to go in a bathing costume, of course, but it's quite an experience.'

  Ìt sounds it.'

  `Care to come?'

  There was a silence after the casual invitation. Sophie found herself staring blankly at the surf, wondering just what the hell she was getting into. Why hadn't she told him, right away, who she was?

  Then she shook away the feeling of doubt. Let him stay fooled. It would make the truth, when it came, all the more of a shock to his arrogant system!

  Ì might,' she said coolly. 'Can I tell you how I feel after lunch?'

  Kyle's eyes were closed again, absurdly long lashes fanning his tanned cheeks. 'As you please. It isn't just your face that's familiar, you know,' he said in the same relaxed tone. 'It's your voice, too. Your voice reminds me of some other woman even more than your face does. I just can't think who.'

  She sat very still. 'Have you known so many women, then?' she asked lightly.

  À few.' He rolled on to his stomach, catlike, and suddenly the tawny eyes were open, and staring into hers. She'd taken her dark glasses off, and the glowing stare seemed to reach deep into her soul, searching after the truth.

  For a shuddering moment she felt totally certain that he knew exactly who she was.

  How could any woman hide anything from a man with eyes like that? Frozen, she waited for the recognition.

  Then the passionate curve of his mouth moved in a wry smile, and he shook his head.

  'Whoever you are,' he said huskily, 'I'm glad you're here. You make the morning beautiful.'

  Sophie's fingers were shaking slightly as she reached for her sunglasses and started to put them on.

  His long fingers stopped her, trapping her hand in his own.

  `Don't put them back on,' he requested quietly. `Why not?'

  `Because your eyes are remarkable. Cool and grey and calm. Put up with the sun for a while. For my sake.'

  She felt her cheeks flush as she withdrew her hand from his, and defiantly put the sunglasses back on. 'If I didn't know you were a respectable banker,' she said drily, 'I'd suspect you of trying to flirt with me, Mr Hart.'

  Ì'm too sensible to try anything like that, Miss Webb.' Denied the enjoyment of her eyes, he was watching her satin-smooth mouth, his lids hooded. 'You're not the flirtatious type.'

  `No?'

  `Definitely not. Flirtations are for shallow people. You are as deep as well-water. With you, only a profoundly passionate love-affair would be possible.'

  She opened the book, a thick best-seller, and stared at the pages.

  Ànd you?' she heard her own voice asking. 'Are you deep or shallow, Mr Hart?'

  `W ell,' he grinned, 'let's say I'm getting a little deeper with each year that passes.'

  `But you're still shallow?'

  `Better than I was. At your age, I certainly wasn't as grave and solemn as you are.'

  She still didn't look up from her book. 'I'm not exactly a child.'


  `How old are you? Twenty-two? Twenty-three?' `Twenty-three.'

  Ì'm almost fifteen years older than that,' Kyle said gently. 'Yet you make me feel ...

  daunted.'

  `That's an odd word.'

  Ì'm always daunted by the inaccessible. You remind me of a teacher I had at infant school. Miss Willoughby,

  her name was. We called her Miss Willowy, because she was so slender and unapproachable. She had the same iceberg poise that you have.'

  Sophie looked up at last. He was studying her figure with that provocative gaze, as though wishing that the one-piece costume wasn't there. His eyes dwelled on the scarlet V between her thighs, caressed her slim midriff, and took in the slight but definite curve of her breasts against the clingy metallic fabric. If he'd looked at his kindergarten teacher with those eyes, she thought wryly, turning slightly away from him, he had definitely been a precocious child!

  Ì'm sorry to hear that I daunt you,' she said, returning to her book, though she hadn't read a word of the last ten pages. But I wouldn't like to be thought of as too accessible.'

  `You aren't,' he assured her, sunlight making her eyes smile like emeralds beneath their fringe of black eyelashes. 'The way you talk intrigues me, Sophie. You have the immaculate enunciation of a newscaster. No, not a newscaster ... an actress.'

  `How odd,' she said, trying to stop her expression from changing. 'I've never done any acting.'

  ' "I've never done any acting,"' he echoed her, his husky voice parodying her accent.

  'You close your mouth so primly after every sentence,. as though determined not to let any secrets out.'

  Às you said earlier on, everyone needs a little mystery.' Kyle laughed softly. 'Are you really reading that book?'

  Ìt's extremely fascinating, as it happens.'

  Ìt must be. You've just flipped two pages over at once, and you don't seem to have noticed.' He reached out and unstuck the two leaves that had clung together. `There,'

  he said with a glint in his eye. 'Perhaps the story will make more sense now. If you've never tried acting, then you should do so. You certainly have the sex appeal and the beauty.'