that she and her mother hadn’t been very close, it was difficult to accept. There were still times when she felt near tears.
She was glad the others wouldn’t already be in residence. She’d have time to relax and steel herself for another confrontation with Marc. That would help.
“You’re gonna love this place,” Joe told her when the chopper touched down on the heliport beside the house. “Marc really fought to get it, but he loved the look of it.”
She was still catching her breath from her first glimpse of the property. It was worth fighting for, she thought. The house itself was unique, very Mediterranean in design, with heavy white stucco and a red roof and a high wall that enclosed it from prying eyes. Secluded patios led off each bedroom, overlooking the bay on one side and the Atlantic on the other. The property had its own private pier and dock and a deliciously large ocean frontage with a private, very white beach. Gaby immediately fell in love with both the house and ocean views. And although she’d spent a good portion of her life vacationing on beaches all over the world, this was different. The house was isolated, and there weren’t any close neighbors. Just behind the house there was a tiered swimming pool with a patio, which had plush lawn furniture and a cabana. The cabana shielded the house from prying eyes, so that the pool area could be quite secluded. Off the master bedroom there was a walled patio that contained a hydro spa.
The beach had high walls at both property boundaries so that the occupants of the house could sunbathe without being observed, except possibly from the air or from passing ships. It was a haven of privacy all around. Inside, the bedrooms were widely separated and had exquisite bathrooms of marble and lots of glass. Gaby’s was on the bay side of the house, and it had a bed with curtains that drew together all the way around. The bedroom was decorated in pastels and was beautiful. It was fit for a princess.
“There’s a private wing for staff as well,” Joe told her, smiling. “We have to bring Carla with us when we come down here, because we don’t cook and Lana can’t. Carla is a jewel. Very Italian. You’ll like her.”
“I already have visions of gaining twenty pounds before I leave here,” she kidded.
“On you it would look good,” he decided.
“It would cost me my career too.” She laughed. “Oh, Joe, it’s a dream of a house!”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “Go ahead and unpack, put on a bathing suit and meet me at the ocean. We’ll swim until dinner.”
“Wonderful!”
She rushed to get into her black designer swimsuit. It had straps that crisscrossed in back and it was cut high at the hips. She didn’t like bikinis, and this suited her sleek body without being overstated. She pinned up her hair and ran to find Joe.
He didn’t look all that bad in black swimming trunks, but Gaby couldn’t help but compare him to Marc, whose big, husky body she remembered so well without the civilizing veneer of clothing. Joe was slightly built, had no body hair at all and was rather pale. But she had no interest in his body, anyway. Only his friendship appealed to her, and she hoped he understood that.
He let out a long, slow whistle. “My, my, what a dish,” he said, smiling sheepishly. He’d come out of his shell a lot, but he still seemed a little uneasy when he flirted with her, as if it came hard to him.
“You’re not bad, either,” she said, laughing. “Race you!”
She took off running toward the crashing surf, with Joe right behind her, and dived in headfirst. The water felt wonderful. Gulls cried overhead, and she felt alive and on fire with a sense of adventure. Marc wouldn’t want her here, and it would be hard watching him with Lana. Yet she felt real for the first time in nine years. It was as if her heart had been given massive doses of novocaine and had only just regained its ability to feel. Just to have Marc back in her life, even on the fringe of it, was a pleasure beyond bearing. She laughed and played like an otter in the water, and Joe watched her without really comprehending why she seemed so radiant.
“Having fun?” he called above the crash of the waves.
“Glorious!” she returned. “Isn’t it beautiful here?”
“You’re beautiful, all right.”
“You’re a flirt,” she accused, and shot water at him from behind her uplifted palm.
He started to retaliate just as the helicopter returned. His face fell as he looked up.
“Will the chopper hold all of them at once?” she asked quietly.
He shook his head. “The Smiths were driving up, so they could do some sightseeing. That will be Marc and Lana.”
She felt her heart sink. Well, she’d asked for it, hadn’t she? “You did tell him I was coming?” she asked, hesitating, her eyes big and green and questioning.
“Sure.”
“Did he go through the ceiling?”
“Right through it to the roof,” he replied. “But he gave in.”
“I don’t want to cause trouble for you,” she said.
“You won’t. We’ll just steer clear of them. He and Lana keep to themselves most of the time, anyway.”
She touched the foaming surf. “People in love usually do,” she said.
“Lana’s the one in love. I doubt that Marc is, though. But I have to say that she must be something, to have lasted a year.”
Gaby frowned. She truly wanted to dislike Lana, but the English woman had such a sweet personality. Why couldn’t she have been a scheming witch? Why did she have to be a nice person?
“You’re sure you’re over him?” Joe asked gently, his dark eyes narrow and searching.
“Of course. It’s been nine years,” she replied, a little too sharply.
“Yeah—” he laughed self-consciously “—I guess that would be stretching things, wouldn’t it, for you to carry a torch that long?”
“It would indeed.” Especially, she added silently, after the circumstances under which they’d parted. Her heart might be vulnerable to Marc, but her mind wasn’t. It had vivid total recall when it came to the past.
“Want to go meet them?” Joe asked.
“No, but you go ahead,” she said quickly.
“Alone?” He gasped theatrically. “And watch Lana drool all over him? Never! Race you down to the wall!”
And he dived in headfirst, leaving her to catch up.
The helicopter took off again, and they swam for a while and then moved back up to the secluded swimming pool where Carla served iced drinks and dainty sandwiches and cakes. The Italian woman was huge and merry and middle-aged, and Gaby liked her on sight. The feeling must have been mutual, because Carla immediately adopted her and began to push food at her.
She refused gently, explaining that every ounce counted in her line of work.
“Better you get married,” Carla chided. “Have babies. Work, what life is that for a young woman, hah?”
And delivering that bit of wisdom she turned and ambled back into the house.
“I guess she told you, huh?” Joe said teasingly. He’d pulled on a shirt and looked as relaxed as Gaby did in her short white beach robe. She’d loosened her hair and let the breeze catch it, blowing it around her face as she sipped a cooling citrus drink. She seldom drank. She’d seen too many young lives ruined by it in the circles she frequented.
Joe seemed to be just the opposite. He put it away with enthusiasm, never seeming to show intoxication. She wondered how long it had taken him to reach that immunity and worried about the next few days. Well, if it got rough, she could always go home.
She glanced