Will she surrender to the stranger at Orchid Cay?

For Lily Fielding, the small, safe Caribbean island is all she’s ever known. But the appearance of an intriguing newcomer is about to change everything for this unworldly vicar’s daughter, for the sensual awakening he promises is both intoxicating and illicit...

Raphael Oliveira should resist the temptation that beautiful Lily presents; after all, he knows that wherever he goes, danger follows... Although, once she is under his spell, Rafe’s intense passion and dark past threaten to destroy them both!

With a groan that was part protest, part relief, Rafe gave in to the desire to taste her.

Lily’s mouth was soft and pliant, and unexpectedly hot. Still finding it difficult to breathe, he pulled her even closer, plundering her willing sweetness with his tongue until he was forced to take a breath.

Her submission was as incredible as it was eager, and when he’d dragged his mouth from hers he buried his face in the hollow between her shoulder and her neck.

‘Por Dios …’ he muttered hoarsely, aware that he was near to losing it. But when she gave a little moan and wound her arms around his neck Rafe knew he had fallen into a trap of his own making.

As he inhaled her scent he knew he’d never dreamt that he might be seduced by her youth and inexperience. How could he have known that her lips would excite and inflame him until his body was bathed in her heat? When he’d thrust his tongue into her mouth he’d revelled in its possession. Querido Dios, his control had almost been swept away.

Aware that the fire he had created was threatening to consume him, Rafe curled his hands about her nape. Her silky hair tumbled over his fingers and he badly wanted to go on kissing her. But this was madness, he told himself. It couldn’t be allowed to win.

ANNE MATHER and her husband live in the north of England in a village bordering the county of Yorkshire. It’s a beautiful area, and she can’t imagine living anywhere else. She’s been making up stories since she was in primary school, and would say that writing is a huge part of her life. When people ask if writing is a lonely occupation, she usually says that she’s so busy sorting out her characters’ lives she doesn’t have time to feel lonely. Anne’s written over 160 novels, and her books have appeared on both the New York Times and USA TODAY bestseller lists. She loves reading and walking and browsing in bookshops. And now that her son and daughter are grown she takes great delight in her grandchildren. You can email her at mystic-am@msn.com.

Books by Anne Mather

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

Morelli’s Mistress

Innocent Virgin, Wild Surrender

A Forbidden Temptation

His Forbidden Passion

The Brazilian Millionaire’s Love-Child

Latin Lovers

Mendez’s Mistress

The Greek Tycoons

The Greek Tycoon’s Pregnant Wife

Wedlocked!

Jack Riordan’s Baby

Foreign Affairs

In the Italian’s Bed

Sleeping with a Stranger

The Virgin’s Seduction

Passion

The Forbidden Mistress

Savage Awakening

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

A Dangerous Taste of Passion

Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Kate, the best daughter ever.

With all my love.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

HE WAS STANDING on the cliff that rose steeply at the end of the cove.

Was he watching her? Lily didn’t know. But she didn’t need her intuition to realise who he was. Dee-Dee had told her; had warned her actually. And Dee-Dee seemed to know everything.

But then, Dee-Dee also claimed she had the sight, and no one on the small Caribbean island of Orchid Cay would argue with her. And it was true, the old woman had foretold Lily’s mother’s illness, and last season’s hurricane that had almost destroyed the marina in town.

Lily’s father didn’t agree that Dee-Dee knew everything. He regarded their housekeeper’s visions as just mumbo-jumbo. But Lily supposed that as an Anglican priest he couldn’t be seen to have anything to do with the ‘black magic’ he declared Dee-Dee’s claims to be.

Still, right now, Lily was less concerned with Dee-Dee’s abilities than with her desire for the man to go away. She didn’t like thinking he was watching her and she wondered again what he was doing on the island.

According to Dee-Dee, his name was Raphael Oliveira and he was from New York. The old housekeeper had speculated that he’d got in trouble in the city and had bought one of the most expensive properties on the island to escape from justice.

But even Dee-Dee’s speculations couldn’t always be relied upon and no one had even known that the house at Orchid Point was for sale.

Whatever, Lily wished he would just turn around and go away. This was the time she usually took her evening swim, but she had no intention of taking her clothes off in front of him—even if he was more than a hundred feet away.

Folding her towel over her arm, she started back towards the rectory. She only permitted herself a surreptitious glance in his direction when she was almost home.

And discovered, to her chagrin, that he was gone.

* * *

A week later, Lily was sitting at her desk, entering the details of the previous season’s charters into the computer, when someone came into the agency.

She’d worked for Cartagena Charters ever since she’d left the university she’d attended in Florida. It wasn’t a particularly demanding job, but Orchid Cay was a small town and there weren’t that many jobs that her father would approve of.

Her working area, such as it was, was behind a screen that separated the counter from the office. Usually her boss, Ray Myers, attended to all enquiries himself. But today Ray was away in Miami, taking delivery of a new two-masted schooner. He’d told Lily there probably wouldn’t be any new customers until the weekend, but she was nominally in charge.

Sighing, as much at being interrupted as at the prospect of having to deal with an enquiry herself, Lily slid out of her seat and rounded the Perspex screen into the business area.

A man was there, standing with his back to her, staring out of the plate glass windows at the masts of yachts bobbing in the marina beyond.

He was tall and very tanned, with overly long dark hair, broad shoulders encased in a leather jacket. His thumbs were pushed into the back pockets of tight-fitting jeans, accentuating the fact that they clung to narrow hips and long powerful legs.

Lily swallowed. She knew who he was instantly; had sensed it, she realised, before she’d actually walked round the screen and seen him. It was the same man who’d watched her from the cliff a week ago, the man Dee-Dee had warned her might be dangerous to know.

He’d heard her footsteps and turned almost before she’d had a chance to school her expression. She saw dark brown eyes, long-lashed, above hollow cheekbones, a prominent nose and a thin, yet sensual mouth. Not handsome, she thought, but endlessly fascinating. For the first time she allowed the thought that Dee-Dee might just be right.

‘Hi,’ he said, his voice as rich and dark as black coffee. If he recognised her, he gave no sign of it. ‘Is Myers about?’

Lily hesitated. So he knew Ray, she thought. She hadn’t sensed that. Although he spoke in English, he had a faint but distinct accent, as if it wasn’t his first language.

‘Um... Mr Myers isn’t here,’ she said, realising he was waiting for an answer. ‘Are you a friend of his?’

Oliveira looked as if he doubted the innocence of that question, but he didn’t take her up on it. ‘Not a friend,’ he said. ‘But we are acquainted. My name is Rafe Oliveira. He would remember me, I think.’

Lily thought that as far as she was concerned he was virtually unforgettable, but of course she didn’t say that. Did he know of his notoriety amongst the island’s inhabitants?

And he called himself Rafe, she mused, liking it better than Raphael.

Shaking her head at her thoughts, she said, ‘Well, I’m afraid Mr Myers is in Miami at present.’ Then, subconsciously checking the fact that the hem of her vest had pulled free of her shorts as she got up, she added quickly, ‘Can I help you?’

The man regarded her and Lily was instantly aware that the precarious knot she’d made of her tawny hair that morning was beginning to tumble about her ears. Add to that the fact that she was wearing little make-up, and she probably looked hot and bothered.

What an image!

‘I think not,’ Oliveira said now, lifting his shoulders in a gesture of dismissal, and once again Lily was struck by his harsh attraction.

Though it was not something she wished to dwell on. Her father would have kittens if he thought she was entertaining such thoughts about a man who had created such a stir amongst the island’s population.

‘When will Myers be back?’

His words interrupted her musings, and Lily arched brows that were several shades darker than her hair. He’d called Ray ‘Myers’ again, she thought. Which was hardly friendly. Maybe even assuming Ray was an acquaintance was pushing it.

His eyes had drifted towards the marina again and, taking the opportunity to tug her vest down over the wedge of tanned skin she’d exposed, Lily said, ‘He should be back the day after tomorrow. Can I give him a message?’

The night-dark eyes turned back in her direction and she was suddenly sure he’d noticed her efforts to cover herself. Not because she could read his mind, however, but because of the faintly mocking expression that had taken the place of his earlier detachment.

‘No importa,’ he said and, although the words were anything but sensual, she felt an unfamiliar quiver in her stomach. ‘It does not matter,’ he continued. ‘I will speak to him myself when he returns.’

‘Okay.’

Lily expected he would go then, but instead he wandered over to the display of leaflets and brochures advertising the many activities—sailing, fishing, scuba-diving—available to visitors.

Flicking through the leaflets with a careless finger, he glanced back at her out of the corners of his eyes. ‘Did you enjoy your swim the other evening?’ he asked, bringing a surge of bright colour into her face.

From his attitude earlier, she’d begun to believe he couldn’t have recognised her from that distance away. She’d never dreamt that he might refer to the fact that he’d seen her, or that he’d guessed what she’d planned to do before he’d appeared.

Had he seen her on the beach before?

Licking her dry lips, she said stiffly, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, señor.’ And if her tone was tight and unfriendly, so what? ‘It’s some time since I took a swim in the evening.’

Abandoning any pretence of looking at the brochures, he strolled back to the counter, surveying her with a faintly amused gaze. ‘You object to my question?’ he queried lightly, making her painfully aware that he had no trouble in reading her at all.

‘Why should I?’ she retorted shortly, realising he was unlikely to believe her. ‘Now, is there anything else, señor? Because, if not, I have work to do.’

‘So conscientious,’ he remarked softly, lifting a hand to rake long fingers through the wind-tumbled darkness of his hair. The gesture caused a crease to form in the sleeve of his jacket, and she found herself wondering if the leather felt as soft as it looked.

Unlike the arm underneath, she thought, which she was sure would be taut and corded with muscle.

But such thoughts were not conducive to lowering her blood pressure. The air in the room felt suddenly thicker and Lily folded her arms, as if by doing so she could protect herself from his disturbing presence.

Why didn’t he go? she wondered. His business was finished here. Did it amuse him to make fun of her? And why, when he was so obviously out of her league, did her stomach keep tying itself in knots?

‘I think I have embarrassed you,’ he said, ignoring her very obvious desire for him to leave. ‘I did not mean to spy on you.’

Lily’s lips parted. ‘You’ve been spying on me?’ she exclaimed, as if she’d only just become aware of it, but his mouth compressed at her words.

‘You saw me on the cliffs the other evening,’ he told her flatly. ‘As I saw you. I have not yet acquired the ability to go about the island unseen. I assume that was why you changed your mind about going into the water. I am not a fool, Ms—’ He shrugged. ‘Ms Fielding, is it not? Your father is the local priest, no?’

Lily was taken aback. She hadn’t realised he might know her name. But it annoyed her that she cared. Dammit, he wasn’t the first man who’d shown her any attention.

‘All right,’ she said, deciding there was no point in denying it. ‘I saw you.’ And then, because she didn’t see why he should have it all his own way, she added, ‘Were you disappointed when I changed my mind?’

She knew she’d startled him. Dear heaven, she’d startled herself. Though startled wasn’t quite the word. She was shocked, stunned, gobsmacked at her own audacity. She’d never have believed she could say such a thing.

Predictably, Oliveira recovered first. But that was to be expected, she thought resentfully. He’d probably encountered every kind of provocation in his—what?—maybe almost forty years. A faint smile touched the corners of his mouth, but when he spoke his voice was gentle. ‘Sí,’ he said evenly. ‘But I was only disappointed to have invaded your privacy.’ He paused and then went on, ‘You prefer to be alone, no?’ His smile widened and Lily felt as if every bone in her body was melting. ‘Yet there was something...distinctly pagan...about a young woman behaving in such a reckless way.’ He arched a dark brow. ‘Am I forgiven?’

Lily’s mouth was dry. ‘I doubt it,’ she mumbled, not knowing what else to say, and he inclined his head before starting for the door.

‘No matter,’ he said, pushing the door open, allowing a little of the humid air to invade the air-conditioned coolness of the office. Then he turned back, but although Lily tensed all he added was ‘Perhaps you’d tell Myers that I called?’

CHAPTER TWO

RAFE DROVE BACK to Orchid Point, cursing the impulse that had made him embarrass the girl.

He only knew who she was because his cook spoke of the girl’s father with such derision. But then, Luella, like many of the other inhabitants on the island, paid lip service to the Anglican church while secretly attending other forms of religious ceremonies after dark.

He scowled, annoyed with himself for baiting her. Didn’t he have enough complications in his life as it was? An ex-wife who persisted in stalking him; a reputation that was in ruins, despite the fact that all charges had been dropped; and the knowledge that living on Orchid Cay, unless he could find something to occupy him, would soon begin to pall.

He swung the four-by-four round a tight curve where hedges of scarlet hibiscus brushed against the side of the Lexus. Nevertheless, his eyes were irresistibly drawn to the blue-green waters of the ocean, creaming on sands that had been bleached a palest ivory by the tropical sun.

It was beautiful, he thought. He’d missed sights like these while he’d been living in New York. His father still lived in Miami, of course, and he’d visited him fairly regularly. But he’d been so busy building up his business, he’d forgotten all about the simple delights of his childhood in Havana.

That was the excuse his ex-wife had given when he’d discovered she’d been cheating on him. He was never home, Sarah had complained, and she’d been lonely. But their marriage had been a mistake from the start, and he’d certainly not been too distressed when he’d had reason to sue for divorce.

Unfortunately, Sarah had fought him every step of the way. Despite the very generous settlement he’d given her, she’d wanted him to forgive her, to take her back, to move back into their penthouse apartment as if nothing had happened.

But Rafe had considered the loss of the luxurious duplex a small price to pay for his freedom. Even when, some months later, Sarah had bluffed her way into his new home and trashed his bedroom, he hadn’t brought any charges against her. He’d believed that sooner or later she’d accept that their relationship was over.

But in the last few months Rafe had realised that wasn’t going to happen. He’d been arrested for drug smuggling. And, although he’d never had any dealings with the South American cartel Sarah had accused him of joining, it had meant serious lawyer’s bills and a court case that had drained him of any enthusiasm to remain in New York.

The experience had made him think seriously about his life. He was almost forty, and for the past twenty years he’d concentrated all his energies into his work.

That was why, when the opportunity to sell out came, he’d taken it. He’d retained only a nominal interest in the Oliveira Corporation and bought land and property from a man who’d won it playing poker in Las Vegas.

For the next couple of years, however restless he became, he intended to take a break, to do some sailing and fishing, and to generally chill out. He need never work again, but he didn’t think he could stand that prospect. Nevertheless, in future, he intended to invest in small enterprises. Like Cartagena Charters, for example.

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 haven’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.

Which made her apprehensive. She’d have thought she’d recognise any automobile that might turn up at her father’s door. After the feelings she’d had while she was taking her swim, it was worrying. If they had visitors, then Reverend Fielding was unlikely to be holed up in his study as she’d anticipated.

Before she could formulate any plan as to how she was going to get into the house without being seen, a man stepped out of the shadows to confront her.

‘Buenas noches, Ms Fielding,’ he said with suave politeness. ‘Are you well?’

Rafe Oliveira!

Lily was instantly conscious of the amber lace clinging to her breasts like a second skin and the embarrassing knowledge that, whether he knew it or not, she was naked under her skirt. The pleasant draught of cool air that had fanned her thighs as she walked up the beach was now banished by the rush of heat that spread down from her stomach. And an insistent pulse made itself felt between her legs.

Because of this, because she felt so damnably vulnerable, her response was uncharacteristically sharp.

‘Have you been spying on me again, Señor Oliveira?’ she demanded, not caring right then whether the accusation was justified or not.

The veranda behind them was lit by hanging lanterns and in their muted light she saw the way his eyebrows rose. His dark eyes registered first surprise, then amusement.

‘I have not been spying on you, Ms Fielding,’ he said mildly. ‘Though I have to admit I think it is most unwise to swim alone at this time of the evening.’

‘So you were watching me!’

‘No! Por el amor de Dios.’ He was impatient. ‘Your father was worried about you. He said you’d gone for a walk. As he was worried, I offered to look for you. I have just stepped out of the house. And here you are.’

Lily chewed on her lower lip. ‘I suppose you guessed I hadn’t gone for a walk?’

‘I did not give it a great deal of thought,’ retorted Rafe not altogether truthfully. But he knew exactly what she meant.

Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Lily didn’t know whether to believe him or not. He was wearing black this evening, or some dark colour anyway. It accentuated his disturbing appeal and, despite her irritation, Lily was not immune to it.

‘Are you going to tell my father I was lying to him?’ she persisted, and Rafe made a careless gesture with his hands.

‘Why should I?’ he asked indifferently. ‘You are not a child, Ms Fielding. If you choose to behave recklessly, that is your...um...funeral, no?’

Lily’s expression was mutinous. ‘So why did you offer to look for me?’

Rafe shook his head. ‘I could say I was concerned about you, but in all honesty I was more concerned about the poor bastardo who might be arrested as a—what do you say?—a Peeping Tom, no?’

Lily held up her head. ‘There was no one else around,’ she insisted.

‘You are sure?’

She wasn’t. Remembering her nerves when she’d heard the drums earlier, and her belief that there had been someone hiding in the trees, Lily had no answer to that.

‘Well, as you can see, I am safely home,’ she said stiffly. ‘Don’t let us keep you.’

Rafe’s teeth ground together in frustration. ‘Do you think it is wise to alert your father to your return until you have had time to change?’

‘I’m sure Daddy is working in his study. He’s probably forgotten all about my absence by now.’

‘You think?’ Rafe’s dark eyes swept down her body. ‘Having met Father Fielding—’

‘It’s the Reverend Fielding, actually.’

‘Bien.’ Rafe allowed himself to be corrected. ‘No obstante, having met Reverend Fielding, I would not put my faith in that belief.’ He gestured to the house behind him. ‘I am of the opinion that he is waiting for us both to return.’

Lily’s face flamed. ‘Well, so what? He’s unlikely to ask what I’ve been doing while you’re here.’

‘Possibly not.’ Rafe thought he was being extremely patient in the circumstances. ‘But, perdón, is that not part of your bikini dangling from your fingers? It is, as they say, a dead giveaway, no?’

Lily caught her breath. She’d forgotten she was carrying the briefs. And how revealing was that?

Rafe sucked in a breath. ‘I assume you are aware there are certain—illegal—activities taking place at this moment in the old slave cabins at the end of the beach.’

Lily suppressed the urge to cross her legs. How did he know what was going on in the old cabins? It increased the possibility that someone else might have been watching her? she thought uneasily.

She shivered. There was something disturbingly intimate about this conversation.

‘I... I’d better go and change, señor,’ she said, deciding she might have misjudged him. But when she attempted to go past him, Rafe stepped into her path.

‘You should not take your safety for granted, you know,’ he said softly, and Lily suddenly found it difficult to take a breath. He put out his hand and lifted a strand of her wet hair, rubbing its silky texture between his thumb and forefinger. ‘It would be very easy for...someone...to take advantage of you.’

Lily swallowed a little convulsively and Rafe’s hand fell to his side. Whatever vibes she’d been giving off, he’d evidently thought better of the impulse to touch her.

Which was a shame because, for a heart-stopping moment, she’d wanted him to pull her into his arms.

And how crazy was that?

He stepped back, spreading his hands again in a gesture of acceptance. But when Lily moved to leave, he said softly, ‘Please, when next we meet do not address me as señor. My name is Rafe.’ His lips twisted. ‘I wish you would use it.’

The air left Lily’s lungs on an uneven breath. Had he sensed what she’d been thinking? It was difficult to know. But one thing was certain—on an island as small as Orchid Cay, the chances of them meeting again were almost unavoidable. And she should remember that.

‘I must go,’ she said and hurried past him, her flesh tingling uncontrollably at the brush of his taut muscular frame against hers.

He followed her inside, intercepting her father, enabling her to make her escape upstairs. And for that she was grateful. But if he hadn’t turned up as he had, her father would probably have been none the wiser.

He was gone by the time she came downstairs again. She’d taken a quick shower and changed into clean shorts and a tee shirt. But her father was standing in the doorway to his study, and one look at his face as he bid her to join him warned her that he expected an explanation.

‘Where have you been?’ he demanded at once and, although Lily knew he must have been worried about her, she resented his domineering tone. ‘You didn’t say you were going for a walk on the beach. You’ve been gone more than an hour!’

Lily pressed her lips together, silencing her indignation. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘That’s not good enough, Lilian.’ William Fielding frowned. ‘You know how I worry about you.’

‘I am sorry.’

Lily didn’t know what else to say, but fortunately William Fielding had other things on his mind.

‘We’ve had a visitor,’ he said abruptly. ‘A Señor Oliveira. From Orchid Point. I would have liked you to meet him.’

‘I did meet him,’ began Lily, not knowing what Oliveira might have said and determined not to prove herself any more of a liar than she felt already.

But her father wouldn’t let her finish. ‘I know that,’ he interrupted her shortly. ‘He offered to go and find you. I don’t know what you were thinking, Lily. You must know what goes on at the other end of the beach after dark.’

She was contemplating her response when her father spoke again. ‘You’ve changed your clothes,’ he said, having just noticed her damp hair. ‘Wasn’t it a little late to have a shower?’

‘I was hot,’ declared Lily, refusing to be provoked. She paused. ‘What did Señor Oliveira want? I didn’t know you knew him.’

‘I didn’t until this evening.’ William Fielding’s brows remained creased. ‘I assume he introduced himself to you when he found you.’

Lily sighed. ‘Actually, I’d already met him. He came into the agency a few days ago looking for Ray.’

Reverend Fielding frowned. ‘I wonder what he wanted with Myers.’

Lily shrugged. ‘To hire a boat, maybe.’

‘Oh, I think not.’ Her father shook his head. ‘I’m sure a man like him will have his own yacht.’

Now it was Lily’s turn to frown. ‘A man like him?’ She echoed his words. ‘Who is he? What do you know about him?’

‘Only what I’ve read in the newspapers,’ replied her father defensively, retiring behind his desk. ‘You must have heard he used to run a successful group of companies in New York.’ He stared at her, his eyes intent suddenly. ‘I can’t believe that piece of gossip slipped either yours or Dee-Dee’s notice.’

Lily tried to control the warmth that flooded into her throat as he spoke.

‘Well, yes,’ she admitted. ‘But that doesn’t explain what he was doing here.’

Her father sank into his leather recliner now, lifting his shoulders dismissively. ‘I imagine he wanted to meet me.’

‘But why?’

‘Does there have to be a reason?’ Reverend Fielding looked impatient. ‘The man’s living on the island, Lily. Perhaps he felt in need of spiritual guidance.’

‘And did you give him spiritual guidance?’ Lily couldn’t hide her scepticism.

‘As most of my energies were taken up with finding you, then no, our conversation was correspondingly brief.’

And, as if reminded of her transgressions, her father’s scowl deepened. ‘But I will not be made to feel guilty when we both know you were in the wrong.’

Lily caught her breath. ‘I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, Dad.’

‘It sounds like it to me. Trying to shift the blame, at the very least.’

Lily shook her head. ‘I just don’t understand why that man would come to see you. You’re an Anglican minister. He’s Spanish. He must be a Catholic.’

‘Dee-Dee supports another religion entirely, but she comes to my church on Sundays,’ declared her father, showing he wasn’t half as ignorant of what was going on as she’d imagined. ‘Has it occurred to you that his own church may have let him down?’

Lily blinked. ‘Let him down, how?’

‘Well...’ Her father looked a little reluctant to continue. ‘We don’t know how it happened, do we?’

‘How what happened?’ Lily was impatient. ‘There is something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?’

‘Only that we shouldn’t judge anyone lest we ourselves be judged in return,’ replied her father pedantically, resorting to one of his texts instead of giving her a straight answer.

He shuffled the papers on his desk and gave her a nod of approval. ‘At least you’re home safely, my dear.’ He rescued his prayer book from beneath the pile of notes. ‘Shall we offer a little prayer of thanks?’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘THAT FEMALE IS here again,’ said Steve Bellamy, putting his head round the door of Rafe’s study after the most perfunctory of knocks. ‘Do you want me to deal with her?’

Rafe, who had been examining a nautical map showing all the shoals and reefs present in the waters surrounding the island, looked up with a blank expression. ‘Qué?’

‘Laura Mathews,’ Steve prompted, coming further into the room. ‘Grant Mathews’s daughter.’ Steve regarded him enquiringly. ‘But I see you’re busy.’

Rafe met the man’s challenging gaze with a slight smile playing about his lips. ‘She is very persistent.’

‘She is.’ Steve shrugged. ‘What would you like me to tell her?’

Rafe shook his head. He didn’t feel like dealing with a possibly hysterical woman. ‘Tell her I’ve gone sailing,’ he said, throwing his pen down on the desk and getting to his feet.

Steve’s eyebrows rose. ‘But you don’t have a sailing vessel at present, Mr Oliveira. Your boat is still moored in Newport.’

‘She doesn’t know that,’ retorted Rafe, refusing to acknowledge why the prospect of looking at sailing craft suddenly filled him with such a feeling of anticipation. ‘As far as Ms Mathews is concerned, I will be away for the rest of the day.’

* * *

Lily was sitting at her desk, sorting through a pile of invoices to see which needed paying first, when she heard the outer door open. Ray was manning the agency this morning so she didn’t bother to leave her seat.

But, hearing Ray’s gruff voice interacting with one that was all too familiar, she felt a film of perspiration dampen her upper lip. A thread of moisture trickled down between her breasts and she sucked in a nervous breath. She had hoped it might be some time before Rafe Oliveira came into the agency again.

Shifting a little uncomfortably on her chair, she tried not to listen to their low-voiced exchange. She wasn’t interested, she told herself. The reasons for Oliveira being here had nothing to do with her.

Her thighs were sticking to the plastic seat, however, thanks to the cotton shorts she was wearing. She wanted to move, to conceal herself in the restroom but, when she tried getting up, the legs of her chair scraped noisily over the wooden floor.

She almost groaned aloud. Now Oliveira would know she was there, eavesdropping on their conversation. Spying on him! Gritting her teeth, she got up and switched on the radio, tuning in to a Southern States reggae station that successfully drowned out any other sound.

She wondered if Oliveira knew Cartagena Charters was in trouble. Obviously Ray had contacted him. That was why he’d come into the agency a week ago. But the notion that he might decide to invest or even become a partner in the firm was something else. It was looking more and more likely that the man did have some interest in the company.

‘Lily, have you got a minute?’

Before she could continue with that thought, Ray interrupted her. She had no choice now. She had to show herself.

She paused a moment, examining the open neckline of her shirt, checking that the hem wasn’t displaying any revealing wedges of skin. Then, resigning herself in anticipation of Rafe’s dark-eyed appraisal, she came round the screen to the front of the agency.

Rafe sensed her reluctance to speak to him again as soon as he saw her. She had her glorious mane of sun-streaked brown hair skewered in a precarious knot this morning and she was wearing a simple white shirt and coffee-coloured shorts.

Nothing glamorous, but she looked stunning even so. And probably didn’t realise it.

‘Yes?’ she said, deliberately not looking in Rafe’s direction. ‘Did you want something, Ray?’

‘Yeah.’ Myers glanced at his companion before continuing amiably. ‘You’ve met my assistant, Lily, haven’t you, Mr Oliveira?’

Rafe inclined his head as Lily was obliged to acknowledge him. ‘Por supuesto,’ he said smoothly. ‘It’s good to see you again...um... Lily.’ The hesitation over her name was deliberate, she was sure.

His slight yet unmistakable accent scraped across her nerves, like sandpaper over raw skin. His dark eyes were surveying her with their usual intentness, making her aware of her shortcomings, making her aware of herself.

She managed a polite smile and then, turning to her employer again, she arched an enquiring brow. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Hell, no!’ Ray was far too eager to dismiss that idea, in her opinion. ‘I want to show Mr Oliveira the layout of the marina, that’s all. To show him what a successful business we’ve got here. Could you delay your lunch break for another—oh, say an hour?’

‘Of course.’

Rafe thought there was a trace of doubt in her agreement. But an element of relief, too. What was troubling her? Had she been afraid her employer would ask her to show him around?

But no. It was obvious Myers was intent on trying to usher Rafe out of the door before Lily could say another word.

For his part, Rafe was less inclined to accommodate him. He would have much preferred to talk to Lily. She must know what was really going on with the agency. But she’d evidently not been eager to see him again and he could guess why.

That whole incident about her swimming after dark was obviously still niggling her. Yet all he had been concerned about was her safety.

But did she believe that?

Did he?

‘Okay.’ Ray grinned at Lily and she concluded he was optimistic about this development. ‘After you, Mr Oliveira. If we hustle, we may have time for a beer at Mac’s Bar.’

Rafe said nothing. He had no intention of making this a social occasion. But if it pleased Myers to pretend otherwise, then so be it. The guy would find out soon enough.

‘Adios, Lily,’ he said, resisting Myers’s attempt to hurry him. ‘Hasta luego!’ See you later!

Lily only nodded, but Rafe could see the uncertainty in her eyes. She had cat’s eyes, he thought, green and wary. Was part of the struggle she was having an effort not to let Myers down? He suspected she knew more about the business than she was saying.

When the door closed behind them, Lily breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been half afraid that Ray might ask her to accompany them. And how could she remain silent if he started boasting about the agency’s success again?

* * *

They were back in less than half an hour.

Lily, who had been expecting them to be at least an hour, felt a surge of curiosity as Rafe Oliveira followed Ray into the agency. Why had they come back? Why hadn’t they done as Ray had suggested and continued their conversation in Mac’s Bar?

Did Oliveira want to look at the agency’s financial statements? It seemed likely. Ray was a fool if he thought he could pull the proverbial wool over the other man’s eyes.

But, ‘Hey,’ Ray greeted her cheerfully enough, though she could tell from his expression that things hadn’t gone exactly as he’d planned. ‘You can get off now,’ he added as Lily got to her feet, and she realised he wanted to discuss his business without a critical audience.

‘Okay.’

Lily’s eyes flickered over Rafe Oliveira before she scooted into the back to get her bag. Then, with a half-smile that she managed to offer to both of them, she pulled open the door and escaped into the hot humid air of midday.

She usually bought a sandwich and a cappuccino at the nearest coffee shop before finding a quiet spot in Palmetto Park to eat her lunch. With its tree-shaded paths and tropical gardens, the park was a favourite place for picnics.

It adjoined the harbour, and in centuries past had been the holding area for slaves bought by local wealthy landowners. Lily had always thought it was fitting that it had now been turned into an amenity everyone—rich or poor—could enjoy.

She’d walked a little away from the agency and was preparing to cross the street when a hand gripped her arm just above her elbow.

Her initial reaction wasn’t one of alarm. She’d lived on Orchid Cay all her life and there were few people among the locals she wasn’t familiar with. Yet almost immediately the strength and coolness of those hard fingers had her turning to see who had accosted her, and she wasn’t entirely surprised to see Rafe Oliveira’s dark face.

‘Hi,’ he said, releasing her almost at once. ‘Can we talk?’

Lily was tempted to say No and walk on, but that would have been rude. Besides, she was fairly sure Ray wouldn’t like her to offend the man.

‘It’s my lunch hour,’ she said unnecessarily. He had obviously heard what Ray had said earlier. ‘If this is to do with the business, I think you ought to speak to Mr Myers.’

Rafe expelled an exasperated breath. ‘This has nothing to do with Ray Myers,’ he declared shortly. ‘I know it is your lunch hour. I heard what was said. That was what I was about to ask you. Will you come and have lunch with me? There are lots of small eating establishments around here.’

Lily assumed a sudden interest in the strap of her bag. But that didn’t stop her pulse from racing like a jackhammer. Why was he doing this? Why in God’s name would he want to have lunch with her?

‘Why me?’ she asked at last, voicing her doubts. ‘Why not Ray?’

Good question! Rafe regarded her with considering eyes, wondering if he really knew the answer.

‘Perhaps I prefer to have lunch with a beautiful young woman,’ he said drily. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘Well, I’m sure Mr Myers expected you to show more interest in the company,’ Lily declared stoically. ‘You hardly had time to assess the viability of the business before you left.’

Now Rafe’s dark brows arched expressively. ‘And that is your concern, sí? You are perhaps a partner in the company?’

Lily felt her face go red. ‘I work with Ray, that’s all.’ She paused. ‘But you must have had some reason for coming into the agency again.’

Rafe shrugged. ‘And if I did?’

Lily decided to go for broke. ‘Well, is it true? Have you decided to take a financial interest in Cartagena Charters?’

‘Have lunch with me and you may find out,’ said Rafe adroitly, watching the play of emotions that crossed her face.

Lily shook her head. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. And then, as another thought occurred to her, ‘I bet this wasn’t Ray’s idea.’

‘I can understand why you would think that,’ he murmured softly. ‘You must know he is more interested in hiding the company’s failures than in presenting a balanced picture of its assets.’ He shrugged. ‘But you can tell him he will have to start telling the truth if he expects any further interest from me.’

‘Ray just exaggerates a little.’ Her tongue sought the roof of her mouth. ‘It hasn’t been an easy time for him.’

‘It has not been an easy time for anyone.’ Rafe stifled a curse, glancing about them in some exasperation. ‘And do you honestly expect me to continue this conversation here?’ He nodded across the street. ‘There is a man over there who has been watching me ever since I left the agency. What do you think he is doing, hmm? Propping up the sidewalk? Checking out the talent? I think not.’

Lily couldn’t help herself. Ignoring his groan of frustration, she turned to look. And, sure enough, there was a man standing across the street. But whether he was watching them was arguable. Besides, he had a camera hanging from his neck, just like any other tourist.

‘You think I’m paranoid, sí?’ Rafe taunted her. ‘You do not think that, after all this time, I might not recognise a paparazzo when I see one?’ He shook his head. ‘So, will you have lunch with me? If not, I—and my escort—will leave you alone.’

Lily’s lips parted as once again she gave the man, who did indeed appear to be watching them, another quick appraisal. It occurred to her that it might be herself that he was watching and her skin prickled as it had done that evening on the beach.

‘Who is he?’

‘I have no idea.’ Rafe shrugged. ‘He may be working for one of the tabloid newspapers, or perhaps he is DEA, or CIA. I do not care to find out.’

Lily stared at him. ‘But why would either the DEA or the CIA be interested in us?’

Rafe pulled a face. ‘Evidently you do not read the newspapers. Dios, my name was splashed across the headlines for weeks.’

Lily was stunned. She knew the DEA was the United States Drug Enforcement Agency. ‘Are you saying you were involved with drugs?’

‘Mierda! No!’ Rafe didn’t mince his words. ‘But I have no intention of defending myself here. What is your decision?’

Lily hesitated. What she knew she should do was thank him politely for his invitation and walk away.

Yet she couldn’t deny she was tempted.

She found herself saying, ‘All right. I will have lunch with you.’

If only to find out why he’d gone to see her father, she reassured herself staunchly. Not because just looking at him caused a funny feeling in her stomach.

‘Bien.’

Without any further hesitation, Rafe took her arm and steered her along the street.

However, Lily pulled away as soon as she was able and said tersely, ‘But I’d prefer not to eat in a restaurant. I usually have a sandwich in Palmetto Park.’

‘And you are suggesting I should do the same?’ he queried incredulously, and Lily caught her breath.

In khaki cargo pants and a black tee shirt, he looked lean and dark—and dangerous, she thought, her skin prickling again. Was she really thinking of getting involved with this man?

‘That’s up to you,’ she said now, half hoping he would refuse.

But he didn’t. ‘Very well,’ he agreed with a swift glance over his shoulder. ‘You had better tell me where we find this—picnic—lunch.’

Lily started to respond and then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man he had spoken of earlier. He was standing, half hidden by the bole of a palm tree, just a dozen yards away.

‘We...we’re still being observed,’ she said abruptly, realising she hadn’t quite believed him before. ‘That man—the one you mentioned. He’s over there.’

Rafe knew a momentary twinge of impatience. It crossed his mind that he shouldn’t involve her in his affairs. She was too young, for one thing. And did he seriously want another female’s feelings on his conscience?

‘I did warn you,’ he said now, giving the man a passing glance. ‘So perhaps lunch is off, sí? We should just agree to go our own separate ways.’

Lily hesitated. ‘Um...not necessarily,’ she heard herself say with some amazement. Why, when she’d been having such doubts about her involvement with him, wasn’t she seizing this chance to get away?

But then, Oliveira had said he might tell her what was going on with Ray, she defended herself fiercely. Taking a breath, she added, ‘That is, if you’re still willing to join me in the park.’

CHAPTER FIVE

THE COFFEE SHOP where Lily usually bought herself a sandwich and a polystyrene mug of cappuccino was on the other side of the street.

Breaking free of her escort, Lily started to cross the road. Only to halt in alarm when Rafe grabbed her arm again and dragged her back.

Out of the path of a speeding minibus that had showed no intention of stopping.

She heard Rafe’s angry words in her ear, his hot breath against the nape of her neck and found she was trembling. She was sure his words were not repeatable, but fortunately she couldn’t understand them.

She didn’t think he was speaking to her, however, and she turned to him with a breathless word of gratitude.

‘Idiota,’ he muttered, after she had stopped shaking. ‘He could have killed you.’

‘But he didn’t,’ said Lily, grateful for his vigilance. ‘I don’t know how to thank you. What I did was stupid. I should have looked both ways.’

‘Sí,’ he agreed, his face still dark with concern. ‘But that—that maniac was not about to stop.’

Rafe grimaced and then, realising she needed reassurance, his expression cleared. ‘It would be such a waste to lose you,’ he added with gentle sensuality. ‘Myers would be devastated, I am sure, and the good padre, your father, would never forgive me.’

The way he was looking at her caused all the oxygen to drain from Lily’s lungs. Although he was no longer touching her, she felt breathless, weak. She kept telling herself it was the result of the near-accident, but she couldn’t look away from his disturbing gaze.

What was there about those hollow cheekbones and that thin-lipped mouth that caused such a visceral reaction inside her? she asked herself incredulously. Why, when she knew she wouldn’t like to make an enemy of this man, was she allowing herself to get involved with him?

‘I think perhaps I should go back to the agency,’ she said now, her voice still a little uneven, but Rafe only arched a mocking brow.

‘You disappoint me,’ he said. ‘I was looking forward to spending more time with you.’

Lily sighed uncertainly. But it would have seemed churlish to abandon him after he’d virtually saved her life, she thought defensively.

‘All right,’ she said, looking up and down the street again before adding, ‘The place where I buy my sandwiches is across the road. If you are certain you want to have lunch with me, we should join the queue.’

The queue?

Rafe scowled as he saw that there was indeed a queue of people waiting outside the coffee shop across the street. And, in the present circumstances, he had no desire to spend the next fifteen minutes waiting in line to buy a greasy burger and an indifferent cup of coffee.

‘Are you sure you would not rather find a small eatery and sit down?’ he asked, aware that, for all her defiant courage, she still looked rather pale.

‘Humour me,’ he went on, aware that her eyes had been drawn to the open neckline of his shirt. The brown column of his throat seemed to intrigue her and he was impatiently aware of his own reaction to her. Running a hand over the triangle of dark hair exposed by his shirt, he said roughly, ‘I had quite a shock, too.’

Lily hesitated. There was no doubt that the idea of standing in a queue for several minutes before then searching for an empty bench in the park was daunting.

Besides, the man with the camera was still watching them and, as she glanced his way, she saw him raise the camera towards them. ‘All right,’ she said quickly, expelling an uneasy sigh. ‘Not least because I don’t like anyone taking my picture without my permission.’

* * *

The eating place Rafe chose was not somewhere Lily had ever been before. Which was a relief. Not that she thought anyone would recognise her with Rafe Oliveira, the man who had left New York apparently under a cloud, and who now owned the exclusive villa at Orchid Point.

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