by Anne Mather
The food wasn’t great, but the scenery was spectacular. In any case, Rachel wasn’t hungry. Despite her determination to leave her problems behind her, she couldn’t help thinking about her father. What was she going to tell him the next time she called?
Chewing on a skewer of jerk chicken and pimento, she wondered what Matt was doing today. Probably making up with her mother, she mused ruefully. She hoped he wouldn’t bring Sara to the hotel.
So far, they hadn’t actually discussed his association with her mother. She would find it hard—no, make that impossible—to bring the subject up. How could she ask him his intentions towards the other woman when she herself was in such an impossible situation?
They sailed back into the harbour soon after three o’clock. It was later than Rachel had expected, and she could feel her skin prickling with the heat. She had taken precautions, covering her arms and legs with sunscreen as soon as she came out of the water, staying under the parasols the ferry company had provided while she ate her lunch. But the sun was relentless.
Still, it had been a nice day. It had kept her away from the hotel for over six hours and that was good.
It was only as they were driving back to the hotel that Rachel was forced to review her opinion of Mark Douglas. He’d hired a buggy for the duration of their stay on the island, and it was this they’d used that morning to get down to the quay.
Rachel had been seated in the back, of course, but on the return journey Lucy had insisted that she should take the front seat beside Mark.
‘It’s only fair,’ she said easily. ‘I’m quite happy to sit in the back.’
Rachel would have been quite happy to sit in the back, too. But it would have been churlish to refuse the young woman’s offer.
So, despite some misgivings, she climbed into the front of the buggy, aware that the beach wrap she’d had to put on over her wet swimsuit clung to her body like a second skin.
The first half of the journey passed without incident. It wasn’t far from the harbour to the hotel. And, although it was hot, the breeze generated by the open-topped vehicle was welcome relief.
Rachel was happily anticipating the shower she intended to take as soon as they got back when Mark’s hand suddenly landed on her bare thigh.
She was horrified. What in God’s name was he thinking? His new wife was sitting happily behind them, totally unaware of what was going on.
Sucking in a startled breath, she pushed his hand away, her eyes turning angrily in his direction. ‘Do you mind?’ she mouthed, not wanting to upset Lucy. She was half inclined to ask him to pull over so she could get out.
‘Ooh, sorry!’
If Mark thought the leer of apology he cast in her direction was sufficient, he was very much mistaken. Rachel was fuming, wishing desperately that she’d refused his invitation in the first place.
‘I’m not used to driving a stick shift,’ he continued, gripping the gearstick ostentatiously. As if he expected her to believe he’d made a mistake.
‘What’s wrong?’
Lucy had evidently picked up the tail-end of this exchange. But Mark wasn’t about to let Rachel give her an explanation.
‘Oh, it was just me, bumping Rachel’s leg with the gearstick,’ he said blandly. ‘Sorry about that, Rachel. You’ve got such long legs, I must be feeling confined.’
Rachel’s lips tightened. ‘No problem,’ she said, hoping he didn’t think she bought that apology. She couldn’t wait to get out of the buggy.
At the hotel, Lucy got out with obvious enthusiasm. ‘Oh, I have enjoyed today,’ she said happily. ‘You’ll have to come with us again, Rachel. I know we’d both love to have you.’
Rachel’s smile was forced, but she could hardly blame Lucy for her husband’s crassness. ‘Thank you for asking me,’ she said politely. ‘Would you pass me my bag?’
‘I’ll get it.’ Mark jumped out of the buggy at once, folding the seat forward to reach into the back. ‘You go ahead, Luce,’ he said. ‘I’m going to have myself a beer before I get my shower. You can use the bathroom first.’
‘Oh, okay.’ Lucy was clearly used to this arrangement. ‘See you tomorrow, Rachel,’ she called, waving her hand as she walked into the hotel.
I don’t think so, thought Rachel, turning to take her rucksack from Mark with every intention of following her. But it was a shame that Mark’s behaviour had spoilt the day.
However, he kept a firm hold on her bag, even after his wife was out of sight. ‘Why don’t we both have a drink together?’ he suggested silkily. ‘I’m sure you must be ready for something stronger than root beer.’
Rachel caught her breath. ‘No, thank you.’
‘Oh, come on.’ Mark narrowed his eyes. ‘I know you like me. I’ve seen you watching me when you thought Luce wasn’t looking. I’m sure she bought all that girlish outrage in the buggy, but you don’t have to pretend now. She’s gone, babe. You can be yourself.’
Rachel could hardly speak. She was outraged. How dared he think she would be prepared to go anywhere with him?
‘Just give me my bag,’ she said, keeping her tone neutral. ‘I want to go up to my room.’
‘Why don’t you show me your room?’ he proposed eagerly. ‘Don’t be coy, babe. We’re both adults. You know I can give you a good time.’
Rachel’s gaze was unbelieving. ‘You’ve got to be joking,’ she exclaimed, her anger showing. ‘Please—give me my bag. I don’t want to have to report you to the staff.’
‘You wouldn’t do that.’ He was so smug Rachel wanted to slap him. ‘Luce likes you. How do you think she’ll feel when I tell her you’ve been coming on to me? And I warn you, babe, it’s not you she’ll believe.’
‘Don’t call me babe!’
It was all Rachel could think to say. This shouldn’t be happening, she thought helplessly. She’d done nothing, absolutely nothing, to encourage him to think—
‘Is something wrong here?’
The voice was so memorable. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. Rachel turned her head and saw Matt Brody approaching them, his expression revealing nothing of his thoughts.
He seemed so painfully familiar. Although she’d only known him for a few days, she already felt as if he’d always been part of her life. In dark linen pants and a black body shirt, he looked both powerful and intimidating. And when he met her eyes there was so much sexual chemistry in his gaze that she felt its kindling deep inside her.
It was Mark who spoke first. ‘No, Mr Brody, nothing’s wrong.’ He handed Rachel her bag. ‘Rachel joined Luce and me on one of those picnic cruises around the island, and we were just saying we’ll have to do it again.’ His eyes turned to Rachel. ‘Isn’t that right?’
Rachel pressed her lips together for a moment. Then she said tightly, ‘That’s right.’
‘Maybe tomorrow, hmm?’ Mark was persistent. ‘I’ll get Luce to give you a ring in the morning. Or perhaps you’d like to join us for dinner tonight?’
‘No, thanks.’
Somehow Rachel got the words out, but inside she badly wanted to scream. Did Matt believe him? Was that speculative look he was wearing a signal that he suspected neither of them was telling the truth?
‘Excuse me…’
Rachel couldn’t take any more. Uncaring what either of them thought of her, she ducked her head and hurried across the forecourt and into the hotel. Her flip-flops smacked against the tiles, attracting attention she could very well do without. But at last she reached the stairs and climbed quickly up to her room.
Sagging back against the door, she breathed a sigh of relief. Dear God, what an awful end to what had been a fairly pleasant day. And she didn’t kid herself that Mark’s pursuit of her was over. She’d met men like him before, and she knew it would take more than one refusal to put him down.
The phone rang as she was going into the bathroom. Her father, she thought wearily. He’d probably been trying to reach her all day. If she told him what she’d been doing he’d assume she
was wasting her time.
She couldn’t ignore it, however, and, picking up the receiver, she said, ‘Yes?’
‘Rachel?’
It wasn’t her father. Her legs gave out on her and she had to sit down on the bed.
‘Yes,’ she said, unable to think of any reason Matt might be calling her.
‘Have you any plans for dinner?’
Plans? Rachel pulled a wry face. How could she have any plans?
And then understanding came to her. This was Matt’s way of finding out if she’d really meant what she said when she’d refused Mark’s invitation.
Indignation souring her voice, she said tartly, ‘No. I have no plans. I intend to order a meal from Room Service. Then I’m going to have an early night.’
‘Are you tired?’
Matt sounded sympathetic, but she resented his enquiry even so. ‘No, I’m not tired. And nor am I having a secret tryst with Mark Douglas. I assume that’s what you’re getting at, but the man’s a moron. I wish I didn’t have to see him again.’
‘Yeah.’ Matt sounded amused. Did he believe her? ‘That was my impression, too. I hope you don’t mind, I told him we were seeing one another. I let him think we’d had a disagreement, and that was why you were on your own.’
Rachel blew out a breath. ‘You didn’t!’
‘I did.’ Matt waited a beat. ‘Did I do wrong?’
‘Heavens, no!’ Rachel’s relief was heartfelt. ‘I didn’t know how I was going to convince him to leave me alone.’
‘Yeah, I got the picture.’ Matt’s acceptance was such a godsend Rachel wanted to cry. ‘So, if you’ve no plans and you’re not tired, how about having dinner with me?’
Rachel sniffed. ‘You don’t have to do this, you know. I mean—I’m sure Mark’s a coward. Now that you’ve sort of—staked your claim, he probably won’t bother me again.’
‘I know that.’ Matt’s tone was easy. ‘But I want to. Are you still set on having an early night?’
Rachel’s heart was beating so fast she was sure he must be able to hear it. Dear Lord, after last night she’d been sure Matt would never want to see her again. And that was without the guilt she felt over both her mother and her father. What sense was there in pursuing this relationship when it could only end in tears?
‘I—what time were you thinking of having dinner?’ she ventured, despising herself for even considering his offer. Unless she was going to ask him about her mother, she had no right to see him at all.
And could she do that over dinner?
Why not?
‘How about if I picked you up about six-thirty?’ he said casually, evidently expecting her to agree.
‘Um—six-thirty’ Rachel licked her lips, mentally assessing her wardrobe. ‘Well, all right.’ She paused. ‘I’ll meet you downstairs.’
Matt gave a soft laugh. ‘Don’t you trust me to come up?’
Actually, it was herself she didn’t trust, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘I’ll see you later, then,’ she said, and, without giving him another chance to disconcert her, she put down the receiver.
With at least two hours to spare, Rachel took a leisurely shower. She washed her hair, too, and tried to give it some shape with the hand-drier the hotel provided. But without the right tools it wouldn’t do what she wanted. So, giving up, she coiled it into a knot on top of her head.
What to wear was easier, because she’d only brought a limited number of garments with her. She hovered over skinny leggings, worn with a silky top, but decided the leggings might irritate her already hot legs.
She finally decided on a simple wrap dress of silk jersey. It was only thigh-length, and inclined to cling, but because it was black it wouldn’t draw attention to her sunburn. A broad patent belt cinched her narrow waist, and she slipped matching heels onto her bare feet.
Her only concession to make-up had been the bronze shadow that coated her lids. And a similarly subtle lip gloss to give her mouth some colour. A handful of gold bangles around her wrist, and the amethyst pendant and earrings her parents had given her on her eighteenth birthday, and she was ready.
She looked smart, she thought, but not over-dressed. All the same, she hoped they weren’t eating in the restaurant downstairs. She would hate to have another run-in with Mark Douglas.
When she went downstairs at precisely half-past-six Matt was waiting in the lobby. She’d half expected him to be wearing a suit, as he had the evening before, but his pleated khaki pants and cream linen shirt were definitely informal.
He looked every bit as attractive as he’d done earlier, moving with a lithe, cat-like grace to meet her at the foot of the stairs. His shirt was unbuttoned at his throat, and the khakis shaped his narrow hips and the powerful length of his legs.
She’d never known such a disturbing man, or one who wore his sexuality so easily. She was always aware of it, always aware of him. Yet, despite what had happened the night before—or maybe because of it—she was still so unsure of herself with him.
‘A punctual woman,’ he remarked drily. ‘How unusual is that?’
‘I’m always punctual,’ replied Rachel primly, refusing to admit that she’d been ready and waiting for the past fifteen minutes. ‘Are we dining in the hotel?’
‘As you did last night, you mean?’
Matt’s green eyes mocked her determination not to think of the way he’d seen her the night before. Naked, body splayed, one leg raised so he could bestow a lingering kiss behind her knee.
She felt a quiver of anticipation run over her. Oh, God, he’d been sucking on her nipple, his hand cupping her bottom. There was no way she could put that image out of her mind.
In an effort to distract herself, she said, ‘I wanted to thank you again for what you said to Mark Douglas. I was dreading seeing him again.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Matt, reaching for one of her hands and tugging her gently towards the exit. ‘If he troubles you again, just let me know.’
As if she could do that!
Rachel shook her head, but she didn’t say the obvious. She didn’t know where to reach him, except through the hotel. And she could imagine the speculation there would be if she asked one of the receptionists for his address.
And there was still her mother…
Somehow she had to find a way to ask him about his association with Sara Clairborne. Why, if they were only friends, hadn’t her mother told her father what she was going to do? And the claim Sara had made about staying on the island. She couldn’t have done that without some support from Matt.
Rachel’s mind was buzzing, and it was almost a relief when Matt directed her to his Jeep. Obviously, wherever they were dining, it wasn’t within walking distance.
It was almost completely dark, and the night was filled with the sound of cicadas. The atmosphere was warm and slightly humid, the air velvet-soft against her heated skin.
Matt helped her into the front of the Jeep and then walked round to get in beside her. His arm brushed hers as he settled in his seat, and her mouth went dry. She couldn’t help it. Her eyes were drawn to the taut thigh only inches away across the console, the unmistakable bulge of muscle between his legs.
She so wanted to touch him. Every nerve in her body was on high alert, responding to his sensual appeal. The goosebumps that ran down her arms and legs were a silent acknowledgement of the effect he had upon her. She’d never experienced such an awareness of her own body, this shameless desire to give herself to him.
She sucked in a breath and he glanced curiously towards her. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, and she wondered what he’d say if she told him exactly what she was thinking.
But, ‘Fine,’ she managed, her voice a little higher than it should be. ‘Um—’ She cleared her throat, trying to get control of her emotions. ‘Where are we going? Is it far?’
‘Not too far,’ said Matt, which was hardly an answer.
She didn’t know the island, so she had no idea what ‘not too far’ might m
ean. She tried to remember if they’d passed any restaurants that morning when he’d taken her to Mango Cove. But if they had she’d been too absorbed in other things to notice them.
When they left the small town behind, the road ahead of them seemed awfully dark. Rachel was used to driving in England, where even on the darkest roads there were houses or pubs, small villages. All she could see at present were tall hedges, or the startled eyes of the occasional small rodent attracted by the headlights of the Jeep.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, however, she glimpsed the ground falling away at the side of the road. And, because she was nervous, she found herself saying, ‘Couldn’t we have gone to Juno’s again? I liked it there.’
‘Did you?’ Matt didn’t sound as if he believed her. ‘And, yes, we could have gone to Juno’s, but I thought you might like to see Jaracoba.’
‘Jaracoba?’ Rachel’s mind went blank. Was that the name of a place, or what?
‘It’s my father’s house,’ said Matt, glancing her way. ‘As a matter of fact, he invited you to dinner.’
Chapter Ten
‘OH!’
Rachel couldn’t hide her disappointment. She’d thought Matt had invited her to have dinner with him, but now it seemed she’d been mistaken.
Yet wasn’t this what she wanted? she argued with herself. An opportunity, perhaps, to confront him with her mother’s reasons for being here?
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Matt continued, evidently sensing her ambivalence. ‘It was at my instigation. Though I have to say my father wanted to meet you, too.’
‘Why?’
The darkness gave Rachel the courage to be forthright. She doubted she’d have been so brave if Matt had been able to see her face.
‘What do you want me to say?’ Matt shrugged, glancing her way again, and, remembering the terrain, Rachel wished he’d keep his eyes on the road. ‘Because you’re Sara’s daughter, I guess. He’s known your mother for a lot of years.’
‘He’s known my mother…?’ Rachel’s breathing was suddenly suspended. ‘Is—is your father’s name Matthew Brody, too?’ she asked, hoping against hope that this was the explanation for her mother’s flight.
