Smuggler’s Cove is a beautiful spot.’
‘Is it?’ Smuggler’s Cove was where Suzanne and her husband, Peter Davis, had their hotel. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing it. To seeing the whole island,’ she appended. ‘Is it very big?’
‘Nah. About eight miles long and five across at best.’ He saw she was flagging and waited for her to catch up. ‘Of course, Suze will have told you that the Ramirezes own most of the island, but what’s left is pretty damn spectacular, I can tell you.’
Ally frowned. ‘Why would Suzanne have mentioned—who was it you said?—the Ramirezes to me?’
‘Well, because Julia is going to marry their son,’ explained Mike carelessly. Julia was Suzanne’s daughter, Ally recalled. He pointed at the single-engined aircraft that awaited them on the tarmac. ‘There’s my pride and joy. And don’t worry; I’ve got an icebox on board. I bet you could murder a cold drink?’
He hastened ahead so that by the time she’d reached the small Cherokee he’d already stowed her bags in the back. ‘Welcome aboard,’ he said, helping her up the short flight of steps into the cabin. ‘You’re going to feel a whole lot better when we get off the ground.’
Ally hoped so. Right now, she felt hot and uncomfortable, the shirt and denim trousers that had felt too thin in London now damp and sticking to her skin. She’d removed the jacket she’d worn to travel in as soon as she’d got off the plane but she was still sweating. She should have brought a change of clothes in her hand luggage, she thought ruefully. But then, this morning she’d been too bemused to think of things like that.
This morning…
Pushing that thought aside, she settled into the seat beside Mike and sipped a cola as he completed his pre-flight checks. Then he adjusted his earphones and she heard the static buzz as the control tower responded to his request for clearance for take-off.
‘Not long now,’ he said, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. ‘These guys are pretty efficient.’
Ally nodded, hoping she wouldn’t disgrace herself. She’d never flown in such a small aircraft before and, when Mike taxied to the end of the runway, she felt her stomach quiver.
But then they were moving, faster and faster, and in no time at all it seemed they were off the ground and soaring into the blue, blue sky. Nassau, and the island of New Providence, fell away below them and although she still felt a little nervous, her fears seemed foolish. Mike was obviously at home behind the controls and his enthusiasm was infectious.
‘Is that San Cristobál?’ she asked, after a few minutes, noticing another island on the horizon. But Mike shook his head.
‘Hell, no,’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s Andros. It’s the biggest island in the group. San Cristobál is one of the smallest.’
‘Oh.’
Ally grimaced and Mike grinned at her. ‘Hey, it was a reasonable question,’ he said. Then, pointing down, he added, ‘Can you see the reef? It runs the whole length of Andros. People come from all over the world to dive around the coral.’
‘Really?’
Ally gazed down, entranced, and forgot to be worried. There was so much more to see from this small plane than from the big jumbo that she’d flown in from London. She could see dozens of islands now, strung out like pearls across the ocean, and even the sails of larger yachts that were cruising the calm waters below them.
Her stomach tightened. Perhaps one of those yachts was owned by the company Raul worked for, she thought tensely. He’d said they chartered yachts all over the Caribbean, catering to the increasingly popular demand for sailing craft. She wished she’d asked him what the name of the company was. Although he probably wouldn’t have told her. A man who slept with a woman and then left before she woke up was hardly likely to leave his calling card.
She pressed her lips together. It was her own fault, of course. There was no point in blaming him for what had happened. It was she who’d let him buy her a drink; she who’d accepted his invitation to dinner. And it was she who’d invited him into her room for a nightcap, precipitating the events that had followed…
She shivered. It all seemed faintly unbelievable now, but it had happened. She had done all those things and more besides. If she was now regretting the whole affair, it served her right. She should have known better.
But, oh, nothing like that had ever happened to her before. All right, she’d been a fool, but she’d also been incredibly vulnerable. Had he guessed that she would have little defence against his practised charm? That, even though he was considerably younger than she was, she wasn’t more experienced? It wasn’t as if she’d led him on. Or not intentionally, she amended, with a grimace.
And yet, had it been such a bad experience? Ally sighed. If she was absolutely honest with herself she would have to admit that it hadn’t. In fact, it was probably because it had been so incredibly satisfying that she was feeling so hurt—so confused—now.
But what had she expected? That something more would come of it? That he might swear undying love for her on the basis of one good night’s sex? Come on, Ally, she chided herself inwardly. Grow up!
But she couldn’t prevent her mind from drifting back to the moment when they’d reached her door and the mistake she’d made by inviting him in…
‘I—want to thank you again,’ she began, fumbling in her bag for her key-card. ‘You’ve saved me from spending a rather anxious evening on my own. I’m not used to travelling alone, and I was feeling a little apprehensive.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Raul, taking the rescued key-card out of her hand and inserting it in the lock for her. The green light flashed and he smiled. ‘There you go.’
‘Thank you.’ Ally turned the handle and opened the door. She stepped inside and then glanced back over her shoulder. ‘Um—goodnight.’
‘Didn’t you forget something?’
Ally swallowed. Of course, she thought unhappily. He expected her to invite him in. That was why he’d offered to escort her to her door. All the rooms had mini-bars and he would know that. What could be more natural than to invite him in for a nightcap? It was the accepted thing to do. Or it would be if she had more confidence in herself.
And yet…
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, not looking at him, pretending to be intent on closing her handbag. ‘Er—I should have asked. Would you like to come in for a drink?’
Let him say no, she begged, forcing herself to turn and face him. And then her cheeks burned when she saw the key-card in his hand.
‘A drink?’ he echoed now, handing her the key-card, and she realised it hadn’t been his intention to invade her privacy. ‘Well, I—’
‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to,’ she broke in hurriedly, but she knew as soon as she spoke that she’d said the wrong thing. She sounded as if she might take offence if he refused, and, as if to endorse this thought, Raul inclined his head.
‘Why not?’ he said, stretching out an arm to press the door wider. His lips twisted. ‘We might as well end the evening as we began it. Please, go ahead.’
A maid had been into the room while she was at dinner and now the queen-size bed was turned down and a cellophane-wrapped chocolate had been placed on her pillow. In the lamplight, the room looked warm and personal and Ally’s tension increased in direct opposition to its implied intimacy.
The door closed behind her guest and, casting him a rather panic-stricken glance, she threw her handbag onto the bed and hastened towards the refrigerated cabinet. The cool air from inside was balm to her hot cheeks and she scanned its contents with anxious eyes, looking for a small bottle of single malt.
‘Whisky?’ she asked, finding what she was looking for and lifting it out. She closed the door of the