A Dangerous Taste of Passion

by Anne Mather

  Rafe drove through the village of Coral Key. His home, a sprawling villa made of coral and limestone, occupied the cliffs overlooking a private sandy cove. Rafe had taken to swimming there most mornings, usually before most of his household was awake.

  Perhaps the Fielding girl should follow his example.

  The gates to the property swung open at his approach, thanks to the electronic pad Steve Bellamy, his butler-cum-assistant, had installed in the car.

  As well as vetting all visitors, the ex-policeman acted as chauffeur, computer programmer, and gourmet chef, if required to do so. Though this was a skill he’d sworn Rafe never to divulge to any of his erstwhile colleagues on the New York force.

  Rafe parked the Lexus in one bay of the six-car garage and, leaving the keys in the ignition, he strolled around to the back of the villa.

  A swimming pool lay basking in the noonday sun and, on either side of the pool, tubs of hibiscus and fragrant oleander tumbled exotically onto the painted tiles. Beneath a striped awning, a teak table was already laid for lunch. Just in case he should choose to eat outdoors.

  His housekeeper appeared as he was standing gazing out towards the ocean. Carla Samuels had worked for him for over fifteen years, since long before the breakdown of his marriage. And, although his ex-wife had threatened her with all manner of retribution, she’d insisted on going with Rafe when he’d moved out of the apartment and ultimately to Orchid Cay.

  ‘What time will you be wanting lunch, Mr Oliveira?’ she asked, and Rafe turned to her with a lazy shrug.

  ‘I cannot say I am particularly hungry, Carla,’ he confessed ruefully. ‘Maybe later, hmm?’

  ‘A man needs to eat,’ insisted Carla staunchly. ‘Wouldn’t you like a delicious fillet of grouper, cooked simply with a little butter and lemon?’ And when this aroused no apparent interest, ‘Or a salad? Luella has got some shellfish, fresh off the boat this morning.’ She touched her fingers to her lips. ‘You would love them.’

  Rafe grinned, sliding his arms out of his jacket and hooking it over one shoulder. ‘You don’t give up, do you, Carla?’ He strolled towards her. ‘Okay. I’ll have a salad. But tell Luella no mayonnaise, me oye?’

  Carla’s response was indicative of what she thought of his decision. But, apart from checking with him whether he wanted to eat outdoors or in, she’d learned to keep her opinions to herself.

  ‘Outdoors, I think,’ Rafe decided, following her into the house. He grimaced. ‘God, it’s cold in here!’

  Carla shrugged. ‘Mr Bellamy likes it that way,’ she said smugly, hurrying away before her employer could take her up on it.

  Rafe tossed his jacket onto a chair in the glass-walled entry and then walked on into a huge reception hall. The floor was Italian-tiled, with a central table overflowing with orchids and lilies. Beyond, a curving stone staircase led to the upper gallery, where all the main bedroom suites were situated.

  Rafe’s study was in the wing to his left. He was heading in that direction when Steve’s voice arrested him. ‘Hey, Mr Oliveira,’ he called, striding towards Rafe from the direction of the kitchen. ‘Got a minute?’

  Rafe gave a resigned gesture, turning to rest his shoulders against one of the stone columns that supported the ceiling. ‘Do I have a choice?’

  Steve pulled a wry face. A tall, well-built man, a few years older than his employer, he had the kind of face that Rafe thought anyone would trust. ‘You always have a choice,’ he said now, rumpling his greying hair. ‘I only wanted to tell you, you had a visitor while you were in town.’

  Rafe surveyed the man curiously. He’d known Bellamy for over two years now, and he knew he wasn’t the kind of guy to get upset over nothing. ‘A visitor?’ he said, frowning at Steve’s doubtful expression. ‘Grant Mathews, no?’

  ‘Close. But I get the feeling Mr Mathews is still licking his wounds from his trip to Las Vegas. I did hear he is short of cash.’

  ‘Men like Mathews are not short of cash for long, Steve,’ retorted Rafe flatly. ‘Having a cash-flow problem is their usual excuse. You will see, in about six months he will be desperate to buy this house and the land back again.’

  Steve’s brows rose. ‘And will you let him?’

  Rafe shrugged. ‘That depends.’

  ‘Depends on what?’

  ‘On whether I like living here,’ replied Rafe carelessly. ‘Do not get too comfortable, Steve. I may find island life is not for me.’

  Steve stared at him hard, as if he was trying to see if his employer was serious, but Rafe was getting impatient. ‘The visitor,’ he prompted, causing the older man to do a double-take. ‘You said we had had a visitor. If it was not Grant Mathews, who was it?’

  ‘His daughter,’ said Steve at once, and Rafe stared at him now, trying to come to terms with what he’d heard.

  ‘His daughter?’ he echoed. ‘I didn’t know he had a daughter. What’s her name? How old is she?’

  ‘Does that matter?’ Steve’s tone was dry. ‘In her twenties, I’d guess. Her name’s Laura. Apparently she and her mother used to live on the island—in this house actually—until her mother remarried and Laura went away to college.’

  ‘I see.’ Rafe contemplated what he’d heard. ‘Did she say what she wanted?’

  ‘No.’ Steve was laconic. ‘But she insisted it was you she needed to see.’ He paused. ‘My opinion is that she’s come here hoping to see what you were like. Maybe her father sent her. Maybe not. She certainly seemed interested in you.’

  Amusement tugged at the corners of Rafe’s mouth. ‘Did she now?’

  Steve looked disgusted. ‘I’d have thought you’d have had enough of women who use their good looks as a weapon,’ he retorted shortly, and Rafe gave a sigh.

  ‘Oh, I have,’ he agreed flatly, patting the other man on his shoulder. ‘And thanks for the heads-up, Steve. I may just be unavailable—again—if Ms Mathews returns, no?’

  * * *

  Lily didn’t see Rafe Oliveira again for several days.

  Ray Myers returned from his trip to Miami and was somewhat ambivalent about the news that a Señor Oliveira had been looking for him.

  ‘How well do you know him?’ asked Lily, defending her curiosity on the grounds that she’d worked for Ray for a few years and usually shared his confidence.

  Indeed, it was only six months since he’d offered her a chance to invest in the business. The fact that she didn’t have that kind of money hadn’t soured their relationship. At least, she didn’t think it had.

  ‘We’ve met,’ said Ray carelessly now, sitting down at the computer and attempting to turn up the database detailing any charters that had come in since he’d been away. ‘I see the Ariadne got back okay.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t it?’ Lily was offhand, but she was hurt that Ray was shutting her out. ‘Oh, and by the way, Dave says the engines in the Santa Lucia need overhauling. If you want him to do it, you’d better give him a ring.’

  Ray glanced up at her. ‘I will. Maybe in the next couple of weeks.’

  ‘You might have to take the Lucia out of service before then. We’ve got a group—’

  ‘Oh, yeah, yeah.’ Ray interrupted her as his memory kicked in. ‘You mean that fishing party from Boston.’ He shrugged. ‘I wonder if we can get away with leaving it until after their booking. What do you think?’

  Lily shrugged without answering him. At any other time she’d have given her opinion, but it wasn’t her responsibility, after all. If Ray chose to take chances with his licence, that was his affair. But she couldn’t help thinking that in his place she’d have taken the safer option.

  Ray scowled, but then, evidently deciding it would be wise not to push it, he said, ‘I suppose you know Laura Mathews is back on the island?’

  ‘Laura?’ Lily was surprised.

  Laura Mathews had been a close friend before they’d each gone their separate ways: Laura to New York, to work in an advertising agency, and Lily to university in Florida.

  ‘No, I hav
en’t heard from her.’

  Of course, recently there’d been talk about Laura’s father losing a lot of money at the tables in Las Vegas. Once the richest man on Orchid Cay, these days Dee-Dee said he was struggling to survive due to the downturn in the market. And it was rumoured that he was only living there on borrowed time.

  Certainly he’d had to sell some property. As witness, the house at Orchid Point, Lily mused with some reluctance.

  Years ago, Laura and her mother had lived in the villa that Rafe Oliveira now owned. Laura’s parents had separated when she was a child, and since then Grant Mathews had occupied the plantation house alone.

  Ray shrugged. ‘I heard she’s been back a few days,’ he said, and Lily gave a shrug.

  ‘Perhaps she’s come back to comfort her father,’ she remarked casually. Although her memory of the other girl said the opposite.

  ‘Anyway, get on to Dave Tapply and tell him I’d like the Lucia’s engines overhauled, but not until after next week,’ Ray said now. Then, getting tired of trying to find the information he was looking for, he got up from Lily’s desk. ‘Print me out a copy of the current financial statement, would you? I’m no good with computers.’

  Lily felt a twinge of apprehension. It was only intuition, but Ray wasn’t skilled at hiding his feelings and it was apparent that he had more than the Lucia’s problems on his mind.

  ‘You look...worried,’ she said, despite her determination not to get involved. ‘We’re not in trouble, are we?’

  ‘You’re not,’ said Ray at once. ‘You had more sense than to invest your hard-earned cash with a crock like me.’

  Lily gasped. ‘I didn’t have any money to invest,’ she protested.

  ‘Nor do I,’ said Ray dourly. ‘Ain’t that a shame?’

  Lily stared at him. ‘But Cartagena Charters is the best on the island.’

  ‘Which isn’t saying a lot in the present climate, if you’ll forgive the pun. People aren’t coming to the island in the off-season like they used to.’

  ‘Some are.’

  ‘The stalwarts, yeah.’ Ray was phlegmatic. ‘But all these hurricanes in the Caribbean; they’re bad for business. You know we’ve had a couple of cancellations, and since I lost those two boats in that storm last fall it’s been a struggle to—dare I say it?—keep my head above water.’

  ‘But they were insured. The boats, I mean.’

  ‘Were they?’ Ray gave a mirthless laugh. ‘In the small print I think you’ll find there was something about excluding acts of God.

  ‘And that’s what hurricanes are, Lily. You ask the Reverend, your father. I haven’t been able to find an insurer yet who’s prepared to accept liability for storms!’

  Lily realised the apprehension she’d been feeling earlier had been justified. ‘But why buy a new schooner? Can we afford it?’

  Ray regarded her warily. ‘Does it matter? We needed it,’ he reminded her. ‘Haven’t I just said we lost two boats last fall?’

  ‘Yes.’ Lily looked thoughtful. ‘And I suppose if you’re going to get anyone interested in Cartagena Charters, you have to present a successful front.’

  Ray made an affirmative gesture. ‘Now you’re talking.’

  An investor like Rafe Oliveira, thought Lily uneasily. Her nerves prickled at the memory of the other man standing in the office, regarding her with those night-dark eyes.

  Oh, God! She swallowed. Was Ray really hoping to get Oliveira interested in the agency? She doubted if even Dee-Dee could foresee what the South American might do if that happened.

  Or herself, for that matter.

  CHAPTER THREE

  LILY WAS TEMPTED to go for a swim that evening.

  The prospect of feeling the soft water cooling her overheated body was so appealing after more than a week of avoiding the beach that she couldn’t resist.

  Ironically, Dee-Dee had also mentioned Laura Mathews as soon as Lily got home from work that afternoon. Little gossip escaped her notice and anything to do with the Mathews family was worthy of a mention.

  The West Indian housekeeper usually stayed to provide the Reverend’s lunch and prepare the evening meal for both of them. Most afternoons she was still there when Lily got home.

  The news about the Mathewses warranted a longer discussion however. Apparently, the gossip was that Laura had been keeping her arrival under wraps. For some reason, no one had previously had an inkling that she was staying at the plantation.

  But the news was out now. And, according to Dee-Dee, it was believed that Laura had lost her job in New York. Which might account for the low profile she’d been keeping since she got back. As far as Lily was concerned, she was sorry if things were not going well for the girl. Okay, Laura hadn’t had much time for Lily in recent years, but that didn’t mean she wished her ill.

  Whatever, Lily put these thoughts aside as she dropped her clothes and towel on the sand and splashed into the ocean. It was almost completely dark and there was little chance of her being observed.

  Not that there’d been any sign of anyone on the cliffs recently. If there had been, she’d have abandoned her plans.

  She could hear the sound of drums in the distance and, knowing what it meant, a shiver ran down her spine. Her father wouldn’t be pleased if he learned that his daughter was swimming after dark just yards from the old slave cabins. He didn’t even approve of her swimming alone in daylight, and in all honesty Lily usually did what he said.

  They’d lived together too long, she thought. Since her mother died when she was in her teens, William Fielding had become infinitely narrower in his outlook. He spent his time writing long boring sermons for his small congregation, and threatening Lily with all manner of retribution if she ignored his words.

  Lily had put on a blouse and skirt for supper. Underneath, she’d put on her bikini briefs instead of panties. If her father had asked if she was going out, she wouldn’t have lied to him. Perhaps she’d have said she was going for a walk, which was only stretching the truth a little.

  And she was twenty-four, after all.

  The water felt cool at this time of the evening. It was because the sun had set and there was no heat in the moon’s pale light. Yet, glinting on the water, it had its own beauty, a mystical appeal that evoked romantic images of a man and woman making love.

  Not that she’d had a lot of experience in that area. A couple of clumsy couplings while she was at university, and a brief affair with her father’s curate, had pretty well cured her of casual sex.

  Dee-Dee had assured her that with the right partner it could be wonderful. But then, Dee-Dee wanted her to attend one of the ceremonies that sometimes took place and see what she was missing for herself.

  So far Lily had resisted her efforts. Not that she wasn’t curious, because she was. She wondered if Rafe Oliveira had had any experience of black magic. Though why she should associate those thoughts with him after only one encounter was rather more disturbing.

  Turning onto her back, she gazed up at the arc of stars above her head and let his dark face fill her vision. It wasn’t difficult. She’d been thinking about him off and on for days.

  But the sudden quiver in her belly, the sensation of liquidity between her legs was different. So different that she found herself suddenly short of breath.

  What was happening to her? With a tentative hand, she explored the source of her feelings, shivering with an ache that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. She felt weak, trembly, totally unlike her normal self.

  Dear God, was this what Dee-Dee had been talking about? Would sex with a man like Oliveira be everything the old woman had said and more?

  She tried to relax. She didn’t have that much longer before her father would start wondering where she was. And it was such a beautiful evening. A night for lovers, she thought, allowing her hand to stray over her stomach to the tight buds of her nipples.

  And then she caught her breath in alarm. Someone was there, standing in the shadow of a clump
of palm trees that grew at the edge of the dunes. It was a man; she was sure of it. And another image of Rafe Oliveira flashed before her eyes. Immediately, she turned onto her stomach and gazed fiercely into the darkness. But, although she stared until her eyes ached with the effort, the shadows, when they eventually shifted, revealed nothing but the trees.

  She frowned. Could she have imagined it? She was tired, and in the darkness it was easy to create shapes in the gloom. But the warnings she’d been given came back to haunt her and she swam quickly back to the shore.

  The idea that what she might have seen had been less substantial than a human being didn’t reassure her. Dee-Dee’s talk of black magic, the distant sound of the drums, were too real to be ignored. As for the souls of the walking dead... Lily shivered again. It was all too easy to be spooked by such tales.

  Deciding she’d spent too long in the water, Lily walked bravely up onto the beach. She towelled herself dry more urgently than usual and then quickly dressed in the skimpy cap-sleeved blouse and pleated skirt.

  The blouse was made of amber lace, and clung to her still-damp breasts and shoulders. But although her skirt was shorter than normal and provocatively flared, it was less revealing. She hesitated before peeling off the bikini briefs. But who was going to see her now? There was no dark figure on the cliffs to watch her and, with a slightly jerky movement, she stripped them off.

  She didn’t like to think what her father would say if he could see her. Yet what had she done, after all? Swum after dark—albeit topless—without his permission? Taken off her wet briefs so her legs would dry.

  It wasn’t anything any other girl her age might have done, she assured herself. However strictly he treated her, she needed some freedom. And he needed to remember she wasn’t a child.

  Lily had reached the modest rectory before she saw the vehicle parked to one side of the building. It was a large four-by-four, and it was unfamiliar to her.