“MITCH tells us you’ve met before.” Ben handed Jessica a glass of white wine. “That you’re old friends.”
When the receptionist had escorted Jessica to the Wildings’ quarters, she’d expected Mitch to have arrived before her, but when Ben had ushered her through the living area and out onto a private patio, not only was there no sign of Alison Wilding, there was no sign of Mitch, either. It had occurred to Jessica earlier that Mitch—for whatever reason—might have given the Wildings the impression he had never met her before that morning, but at Ben’s words, Jessica found herself sitting back more comfortably in her yellow-cushioned wicker chair. Though of course she didn’t know exactly how Mitch had described their previous relationship to the Wildings, at least they were aware there had been one, and she needn’t be afraid of contradicting anything Mitch might have said in that regard.
“Yes.” Jessica toyed with the stem of her glass. “Mitch and I knew each other a few years ago, but we lost touch.”
Before Ben could respond, someone came through the patio doors behind them—a woman, Jessica decided as she heard the light steps on the brick.
“Darling.” Ben moved forward and as Jessica turned slightly in her chair, she saw him greet the newcomer by grasping her shoulders loosely and planting a kiss on one cheek. “Everything settled with Alain?”
“As settled as it ever will be!” As Ben dropped his hands, the woman said with a chuckle, “If there’s one thing more nerve-racking than dealing with a temperamental chef, I’ve yet to meet it! Ah, our guest is here.”
Jessica cleared her throat, and Alison Wilding—elegant and fine-boned as a thoroughbred, with her shiny brown hair cut gamine style—turned to her with a husky, “What an intriguing perfume you’re wearing. What is it, dear?” She was wearing a green Thai silk dress that skimmed her body as she moved forward, revealing a model-slim figure.
“It’s Rochelle’s latest, Mrs. Wilding.” Jessica got to her feet and as Ben performed the formal introductions, she took the other woman’s outstretched hands briefly. “Thank you so much for inviting me to lunch—such a kind gesture.”
Alison Wilding, Jessica decided, was at least ten years older than Mitch, yet she couldn’t blame him for being drawn to the woman. There was a fragility about her, and an innate feminine grace, that would be irresistible to most men. Her skin was pale, with the texture of cream, and her bone structure was exquisite. Her eyes, unfortunately, were concealed by dark glasses, and Jessica found herself wishing she would take them off; it was difficult to form any real judgment about a person when their eyes were hidden.
“Sit down, dear.” Alison gestured toward the yello-wcushioned seat. “And do call me Alison. Darling—” she turned to her husband, who was standing at her side “—have you given Jessica a drink?”
“Yes, I have. And how about you?”
“Oh, a glass of Chardonnay, I think.” Alison touched the back of a chair across the table from Jessica and sank down into it gracefully. “Mitch isn’t here yet?”
“He should be here in a minute.”
Ben put his wife’s wineglass on the table in front of her. He lifted her right hand to his lips, caressing it with a fleeting kiss; and as he placed her hand on the table, her fingertips just touching the base of her glass, Jessica wondered why she had found the simple gesture so moving. There had been nothing ostentatious about it…she knew instinctively that had Ben been alone with his wife, he would still have kissed her that way. Yet she couldn’t help wondering just what Alison Wilding was thinking as her husband’s touch lingered on her skin; was she perhaps remembering the last time Mitch had kissed her? Was she, even now, wishing it was Mitch who was taking a seat beside her, and not Ben? If so, she gave away nothing of it in her voice as she said, “Tell me, Jessica, where and when did you and Mitch meet?”
“She picked me up in a bar six years ago.”
Mitch’s voice came from right behind Jessica, and as she heard it, she stiffened. Turning slightly, she saw that he had changed from his dusty shirt and shorts, into a crisp, pale gray shirt and crisp white trousers, and despite her intention of steeling herself against his charm, she felt her heart give a little flutter of pure female appreciation.
“Mitch.” Alison’s voice was teasing, chastising. “How very ungallant to give away such a secret. What will Jessica think of you?”
“She can’t think any less of me than she already does, Alison!” Though Mitch’s voice was as lightly teasing as Alison’s had been, when his eyes met Jessica’s she detected a mocking glint, a glint that disappeared so quickly that neither of the others could have noticed it.
“What can I get you to drink, Mitch?” Ben asked.
Mitch motioned to him not to get up. “Nothing right now, thanks,” he said.
“Ah, yes!” Ben took a pretzel from a bowl on the table. “With all these faxes flying back and forth, it wouldn’t do for you to drift into an alcoholic stupor and blow your whole deal!”
“No fear of that!” Alison smiled, raising her face up to Mitch. “This one’s too big to blow, isn’t it, Mitch?”
“So when are we going to find out the location of the new project, Mitch?” Nonchalantly, Jessica smoothed a hand over her topknot, though she knew full well it was still safely secured. “And is anyone taking bets?”
Before Mitch could answer, Ben said, “I’m laying odds it’s going to be in Spain. I’ve always fancied a holiday there.”
“Uh-uh.” Alison was obviously trying to conceal a smile. “It’s going to be in North America. What do you think, Jessica?”
“I think,” Jessica said, trying to inject amusement into her own tone, “that since it’s going to be his last hotel, Mitch might be negotiating for a piece of property that’s neither in Spain nor North America, but perhaps closer to home.” With a coquettish tilt of her head, she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Perhaps in England?”
For a moment she thought his eyes widened, as if she had been close to the mark and had taken him by surprise, but when he responded, his voice was so cool she decided she must have been imagining things. “I’m afraid,” he said, “I’m going to have to keep you all guessing, because until the deal is in the bag, mum’s the word.”
“Don’t trust anybody, Mitch?” Jessica countered, her voice casual, but her eyes taunting.
“Can you blame me for that?”
The tension that had been stretched loosely between them ever since he came out onto the patio snapped into place abruptly—and with such intensity Jessica could almost hear it twang. She was aware of nothing but Mitch and his cold, penetrating gaze. As far as she was concerned, they might have been alone on the patio…alone in the world…
But they weren’t alone, and Alison must have sensed the tensions vibrating in the air. The grating sound on the brick as she pushed back her chair splintered the trembling moment, and Jessica drew in a steadying breath.
“Let’s go inside,” Alison suggested smoothly, “and see if Alain has our lunch ready.”
Perhaps she moved too quickly, or with an awkwardness brought on by the sparring of her two guests; at any rate, she stumbled as she got up, lost her balance, and with a little cry, toppled sideways. Had Mitch not moved swiftly, she would have fallen to the brick. But he did move, and he did catch her, holding her in his arms as easily as if she were a child.
“Are you all right?” He and Ben both spoke at once, and Jessica, who had lurched to her feet and rounded the table to stand beside them, stood frozen.
“I’m fine,” Alison said, though a little shakily. “That was careless of me. Jessica—” she turned in the direction of the yellow-cushioned chair which Jessica had vacated “—do forgive me.” She held out a hand—a hand that gestured eloquently toward the empty seat. “Come, let’s all go through and have our lunch. I feel quite peckish.”
Jessica stared, not quite understanding what she was seeing…but when it all became clear to her, she felt as if the world had geared down on its axis. Around her, things seemed to be happening in slow motion. She saw Ben take Alison’s hand, saw him tuck it under his arm and say, “You’re with me, love. Mitch will look after Jessica.” She watched as Mitch, his face carved into a hard mask that chilled her to the bone, crossed to where she was standing, she didn’t resist as he cupped a hand under her elbow. And in the background, from the corner of her eye, she saw Alison’s wineglass, which had been knocked over when she stumbled, roll almost to the edge of the patio table, and then roll back again, the wine running in pale droplets over the edge to fall on the pink brick, staining it for a second before being dried up by the sun.
Jessica swallowed in an effort to relieve the lump in her throat, as she and Mitch followed the other two indoors.
“You didn’t know?” he muttered in a low, rough voice.
“No,” she managed to whisper. “How could I?”
“Alison’s been blind since she was eighteen.” Mitch leaned closer to talk quietly, tensely, in her ear, and she felt his lips brush her hair. “She was involved in a car accident that killed her husband. Her first husband. She married Ben a year later.”
Lunch was delicious—pumpkin soup, followed by glazed poached fish with fresh oysters, finishing with a selection of cheese and crackers and hot, fragrant coffee.
Once Jessica had become used to the fact that her hostess was blind, she began to relax. Alison was perfectly able to eat lunch without any help, other than Ben’s telling her, before she started, where everything was on her plate.
Conversation was general during the first part of the meal, consisting mainly of idle chatter about the island. But while they were being served coffee, Mitch sat back lazily in his chair, and said, “Jessica really did pick me up in a bar, Alison. I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it…won’t you, Jess? It was certainly a night to remember!”
His tone had been light, amused almost, but as he spoke, his gaze had flicked over her, his cynical expression for her alone to see. She felt her heart cringe from it, and hoped that nothing of her feelings was showing as she returned coolly, “I don’t think it was all that memorable, Mitch—in fact, my own recollection is a bit hazy. Why don’t you tell Ben and Alison about it, since it obviously made more of an impression on you?”
Ben chortled. “Touché, Mitch.”
Mitch didn’t seem at all fazed. “As I recall,” he began, clasping his hands behind his head, his eyes hooded as he kept his gaze fixed on Jessica, “it was raining that night. I’d been out of the country for a week or so, and came in to Heathrow on an evening flight. I decided to call by the office before going to my flat.” He paused.
Unable to resist the opportunity to rile him, Jessica said softly, “A fatal mistake, as it turned out.”
If her dig upset him, he allowed no sign of it to show. “I spent an hour in my office, and when I came out, found it had started to rain. Heavy rain, cold and miserable. The thought of going on to my flat was distinctly unappealing, and I decided to cross to the pub and have a drink before hailing a cab. You’d been working at the Golden Chain head office for a few weeks, you told me later, but we’d never happened to bump into each other. You’d been working late that night, and you came across to the pub with a couple of friends about half an hour after I did. I noticed you come in—as, I’m sure, every other man in that pub did—you were quite sensational, Jessie, with rain glistening on your black hair and running down your emerald green slicker—but I had no idea that within minutes you’d be coming over to sit on my lap.”
“It makes a great story, Mitch,” Jessica said with a cool smile. “But you’ve missed out one important detail. I had to pass your table on my way to the ladies’ room. You deliberately stuck out one of your feet as I went by, and I ended up on your lap only because I lost my balance.”
“Mitch!” Alison’s voice was threaded with laughter. “Such juvenile behavior for a grown man!”
“I thought so at the time,” Jessica said lightly. “And if one of my friends hadn’t told me earlier who he was, and that he was harmless—”
“Harmless?” Ben’s bark of laughter had a delighted ring. “Harmless? I think you’ve met your match here, Mitch. So what happened next, Jessica?”
Jessica took in a deep breath and tried to keep her features schooled in a casual expression. But even as she did, she glanced at Mitch, and she knew, by the darkening of his eyes, the deepening of the grooves bracketing his mouth, that despite the apparent lightness of the conversation, he was remembering, too, the incredible sexual chemistry that had exploded between them at that first meeting. And before she could respond to Ben’s question, Mitch said, “What happened next was, Jessica’s friends came over to see if she was all right, and once they were satisfied of that, we all had a drink together. Right, Jess?”
Yes, he was right. And she had been astonished at how easily he had gotten along with everyone. After all, he was the boss and they were just very small cogs in one very huge wheel. His wheel. Yet by the time the evening was over, she felt as if she had known him forever.
Her friends had left around eleven, but she and Mitch had stayed. It had felt as if they were in a cocoon, with all the rest of the world shut out. When the bar closed, they went out to the street together, he had hailed a cab, and had dropped her off at her flat; she hadn’t invited him in, and she was sure he hadn’t expected her to. But next day, a Saturday, he phoned and invited her out for dinner that evening. And that had been the beginning…
“Yes.” There was a faint huskiness in her voice. “That’s right, Mitch. We all had a drink together.”
“So,” Ben said, “do you still work for Mitch’s Golden Chain, Jessica?”
She had been prepared for this, that she might be asked about her job, but it was imperative that she keep any relevant information from Mitch. He must never find out where she worked, or lived. If, after she left Starlight, he ever found out why she’d really been there, he would hunt her down and seek vengeance…and if he found her, he would certainly discover she had a child.
“No. I moved from the area the following year.” Jessica sat back in her seat as the waitress poured her coffee. “And had to find another job.”
“What do you do, dear?” It was Alison who asked the question.
Jessica turned to look at her as she said, “Secretarial work.” She saw Ben lean forward, knew he was about to pursue the matter, but before he could, she grimaced and went on. “But I promised myself I wouldn’t talk about work, or even think about it while I’m here. That would defeat the purpose of my holiday, wouldn’t it?”
Ben sat back, his cheery face creased in a grin. “A woman with her head screwed on the right way. You like to keep work and play separate—not like our friend here—” he glanced at Mitch “—who can’t seem to tear himself away from his fax machine for longer than an hour at a time!”
“Wrong!” Mitch pushed back his chair and stretched. “I’m taking the next couple of days off. I’ve made my move, and there’s nothing I can do now but…wait.”
“Look at the man,” Ben said admiringly. “Anybody else would be wound up to the nines, with so much at stake, but you, Mitch, look as cool as the proverbial cucumber.”
“He thrives on it,” Alison added. “On all the suspense. And since you’re taking a break, why don’t you and Jessica spend the afternoon together?”
“Alison.” Jessica injected a chuckle into her voice. “You sound like a mother anxious to get a date for her gangly teenager!” Spending time with Mitch was, of course, the very thing she needed to do, but she had to make sure she left him with the opposite impression. Airily, she glanced at him and felt a twinge of surprise when she saw the expression of shock in his eyes—shock at what she’d said? But why? Surely she’d treated the matter lightly enough that Alison wouldn’t be offended by her teasing comment?
“Believe me,” she hastened to add, “I’m more than happy to be on my own. I’m one of those lucky people who enjoy their own company.”
“No, Alison’s right.” Mitch had made a quick recovery; his tone was silky. “We’re both on holiday, and we should take advantage of that. Why don’t we have a siesta, and then we can meet afterward and have a swim together—?”
“Wonderful idea!” Ben pushed back his chair and got up, and then assisted Alison as she got to her feet, too.
Everything, Jessica reflected, was going her way—not the way she wanted it to be, but the way it had to be, if she was to find out what Eric Trenton needed to know.
She allowed Mitch to escort her from the dining room, and after she had thanked Ben and Alison for lunch, he ushered her out and along the lobby to the foyer.
“Will an hour be long enough for you?” He stood with her by the elevator.
“Mmm.” The elevator arrived and she stepped in. He didn’t follow. “Aren’t you going up to your room?” She drew her brows together in a small frown.
“I have a chalet in the grounds,” he said, and as the doors started to glide closed, he added with a lazy smile, “If you’re good, I may invite you to see it sometime.”
* * *
Once in her room, Jessica went straight to the phone by her bed and spent the next five minutes talking with Antonia and Jason.
Everything was fine, Antonia told her, and Jason’s happy tone reinforced Antonia’s assurances. Jessica winced as she laid down the handset after Jason’s hasty, “Bye, Mummy. I’ve got to go. Dominic’s waiting to play.” The sound of his voice had made her heart ache as surely as if his small hand had been squeezing it. She would do anything—anything—to keep his father from finding out about him.
As she crossed to the built-in closet, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and was taken aback by the expression on her face. Her mouth was compressed into a tight, ugly line, an indication of the stress she was under. She’d have to loosen up before she joined Mitch later…but she was aware how very difficult that was going to be.
She knew she ought to lie down, but she also knew she was far too uptight to rest. She slid open the closet door, and riffled about among the lightweight clothes dangling from their hangers. Projecting the right image to Mitch this afternoon was of the ultimate importance.
She’d purposely worn the scarlet bikini for their first meeting, knowing he’d have no reason to think that meeting was other than pure coincidence, and because of that, he’d have no reason to suspect that she’d worn the bikini for the express purpose of exciting him sexually. If she wore it again—or anything that was just as blatantly designed to make male hormones run amokhe would surely suspect she was trying to turn him on…which, of course, she was. But what she wanted him to believe, initially at any rate, was that she had no interest whatsoever in him, and had no interest in dressing to attract him. Therefore…
Narrowing her eyes, she slipped her black maillot from its hanger. She knew very well that flesh hidden from the eye could be far more tantalizing to men than flesh exposed; and she knew, also, that the black maillot-which looked deceptively prim and proper on its hanger—took on a whole new life once it molded itself to her voluptuous body. Yet it was neither low-cut at the breasts not high-cut at the thighs; it was, one could argue, the epitome of modesty…
She had modeled it for Antonia the night before leaving for the island, and her sister’s eyes had sparkled.
“Atta girl!” she’d said approvingly. “And I wish I could be on Starlight when you wear it. You’re going to knock that treacherous so-and-so’s socks off.”
Jessica’s lips twisted bleakly as she went into the bathroom. She might have to knock more than Mitch’s socks off before she found out what she wanted to know…but if that’s what it took, then that’s what she would have to do.
She was ready far too early, and found herself pacing back and forth in the bedroom. After putting on the black maillot, she’d slipped into a gathered cotton skirt in a small black-and-white geometric pattern, and a black T-shirt, that she’d tucked in at the waist. She looked; she knew, impeccable…perhaps even stark. With her black hair scraped back into a severe ponytail, her face scrubbed clean, and no jewelry except silver stud earrings, nothing about her appearance even hinted at seduction.
Yet.
She’d heard people talk about having butterflies in their stomachs when they were nervous; that, she acknowledged, would be a totally inadequate description of how she felt. No way could butterflies survive in her stomach, tightly knotted as its muscles were. How about a bunch of Sumo wrestlers grappling in her stomach? Yes, that was more like it.
Restlessly she moved around the room one last time, and then decided she could stay up there no longer. She had to do something—perhaps go for a walk in the grounds—anything to take her mind off Mitch, and the problems facing her. After a last glance at her reflection in the mirror, she dropped her sunglasses into the pocket of her skirt, scooped up her capacious beach bag, and made for the door.
When she came out of the elevator, to her surprise the first person she saw in the foyer was Mitch. He was sitting with a young couple in the area over by the window. The three were absorbed in conversation, but when he noticed her, his eyebrows shot up. He glanced at his watch, and she saw him grimace, and after a few quick words to his companions, he got up and came over to join her.
“My apologies—just after you went upstairs, I bumped into the Latimers. Maria worked in one of my hotels before she met Ken…I haven’t seen them since their wedding day four years ago. We were just catching up with each other, and—” he rubbed the heel of one hand across his shadowed jaw “—as you can see, I’m not ready.”
“That’s all right,” Jessica murmured stiffly. “I’m early.”
“No problem.” He caught hold of her forearm, loosely. “Come to the chalet with me—I have to go over for my swim trunks…and—” his tawny gaze slid mockingly to meet her eyes “—a shave, if you think I’m going to need it.”
“You look fine to me,” Jessica said, her airy tone giving no sign that she knew only too well what he was thinking, knew only too well what he was remembering. Only hours after he shaved, Mitch’s jaw always became rough and abrasive as sandpaper, and during the months of their relationship, because Jessica’s skin was very sensitive—something Mitch soon discovered—he had always made a point of shaving just before they went out on a date. “In fact,” she went on now, in the same airy tone, “you look…rakish, with that fungal growth. Rather fitting, actually.”
He had led her to the foyer’s side door, and as they walked out into the heat of the afternoon, he laughed dryly.
“Are you implying that my morals leave something to be desired, Jessica, just because I have a bit of a beard? What would you think…” still holding her forearm, he guided her along a path edged by beds of hibiscus shrubs with showy blossoms of orange, red, and apricot “…if I were to imply that, just because you’re here alone, you’ve come to look for a wealthy husband?”
“I’d say you were putting one and one together and coming up with five.” Jessica’s voice was tart. “I’m here on holiday, period.”
“A pretty rich holiday, isn’t it, for a secretary?” He slid his hand down her bare forearm and she thought he was going to release her; instead, he trapped her further by circling her delicate wrist tightly with his fingers.
Jessica shrugged. “People make choices, Mitch. I work hard all year, and if I choose to scrimp on other things, and blow all my savings on one good vacation, albeit a short one, that’s my decision to make.” If only he knew, she reflected tautly, that every penny of her savings was invested with a view to paying for Jason’s future education, and that her hotel bill on Starlight was being paid for by a man she despised.
“I find it odd,” he went on thoughtfully, as if he hadn’t listened to a word she’d said, “that you did come here alone. The Jessica I knew wasn’t a loner. She’d never have dreamed of planning something like this—”
“Something like what?” The pressure of his thumb and fingers around her wrist was disturbing…more than disturbing. The pad of his thumb was rubbing on sensitive skin at her inner wrist, resulting in shivers of sensation dancing up her arm…and making her heartbeats take off in a crazy race to nowhere.
“Like…traveling abroad, to a place she’d never been before, by herself.”
“You thought you knew me, Mitch, but you didn’t.”
“No.” His voice was cool. “I didn’t, did I? But you certainly set me straight that day we spent at Stokely Manor with Garth and Amanda. At any rate, that’s all in the past. I do know you now, and I do know what you want—”
“And what’s that?” she asked tersely.
“A relationship with no strings.” His features twisted wryly. “There’s something you probably never guessed, Jess. I often thought about you after you left, and I wished you hadn’t disappeared so completely off the face of the earth.”
“Any why was that?”
“Because…if we’d had the chance to talk again, once I got over the shock of finding out you were—what did you call it, ‘a good-time girl’?—we could have started fresh, started a new relationship on completely different terms. I’d have set you up in my place in Belgravia. You could have kept one night of the week free for me-perhaps a Friday—and for the rest…” He released her rist but caught her hand in his before it could fall, and wove his long fingers through her slender ones. “You would have been free to live your life as you pleased. No strings—no questions asked.”
While he had been talking, they had been approaching a pretty chalet, its walls almost hidden behind a tumble of bougainvillea vines with bracts of a vibrant bluish purple. The front door was pale violet, and enormous scarlet roses rambled over a weathered trellis arching above the entryway.
Mitch paused under the trellis, and looked down at her. “What do you think, Jess? Is it too late?”
“Too late…for what?” The scent of roses was rich in her nostrils, and so sweet it was like a taste of heaven.
“Too late to begin an affair.” He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “A new affair. My flat’s gone, but we can choose another, choose it together. What do you say, Jess? Are you for it?”
Was he serious? It was impossible to tell; his eyes were shuttered, giving absolutely nothing away. But Jessica felt a strange hysteria building up inside her. Had he, when they first met almost six years ago, offered her such a deal, she had been so utterly besotted with him she’d have had no hesitation about saying “yes.” One night a week with Mitch Carradine—it would have been only a crumb, but she would have settled for it. And there would have been an honesty about it, right from the beginning. An affair, and not a serious one. No commitment, on either side.
But so much had happened following their first meeting! She had fallen hopelessly in love with him; she had become pregnant with his child; and she had discovered that all the time he had been making love to her, he had been deceiving her. The man was contemptible. Oh, certainly, as she’d listened to his offer just now, she had felt her body react to the invitation. One night a week with him, one whole night, to do nothing but make love. But it wouldn’t be love…was never love on his part, could never again be love on hers.
But she couldn’t let him suspect what an offensive offer she found it, nor how she wanted to throw it back in his face.
She withdrew her hand from his grasp, and leaned back against the edge of the door. “Well,” she mused, her mouth curving in a slow smile as she looked up at him from beneath her thick, coal-black lashes, “that’s something to think about—isn’t it?—for the cold winter nights ahead. Do I have to give you my answer now, Mitch, or may I think it over?”
A flicker of something passed across his eyes, but it was gone so quickly she had no idea what it signified. Emotion of some sort, of course, but it could have been scorn, triumph, pain. She didn’t know; would never know. Didn’t care to know.
“No rush, Jess. You have all the time in the world. I’d like to have you back in my life again…on any terms.”
“That’s very…generous…of you…”
He unlocked the door and pushed it open. “I’m a
generous man—just how generous I can be, you’ll find out if you accept my offer. Now, would you like to—?”
“Come into your parlor?” Jessica shook her head. “No, thanks, Mitch. This fly—I think—would be safer, for the moment, if she were to wait outside.”
He chuckled. “In that case, this…spider will be as fast as he can. Don’t go away.”
Oh, she had no intention of going away! Jessica slipped her hands into her pockets as she wandered around the chalet’s garden, inhaling the exotic scents that mingled with the salty ocean air. Mitch could never know just how eager she was to see the inside of his temporary domain, could never know how she’d had to restrain herself when he’d invited her in. But she would get inside, when it suited her, and she would make it seem as though he had persuaded her against his will.
What was it Ben had said about all those faxes flying back and forth? What a wealth of information would be on those printed papers. If only she could get a
glimpse—just a glimpse—so she could get an idea of what was going on. But she mustn’t rush things, mustn’t risk making him suspicious. She would tease and tantalize Mitch today, but she would lead him only so far. Tomorrow, she would pretend to weaken, and allow him to coax her into the chalet.
She raised her face to the sun, her eyes closed, and let the heat seep into her bones. It was sheer bliss, the warmth on her cheeks and brow, the gentle flutter of her skirt around her calves, the sound of the ocean mingling with the call of the gulls.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, dreaming, before she heard Mitch’s voice come from behind her.
“Ready?” he asked.
She turned around, forcing a smile, a smile that died slowly when she saw him.
And her blood began a slow, heavy drumbeat along her veins.