The Blackmailed Bride
Kim Lawrence

www.millsandboon.co.uk

All about the author…

Kim Lawrence

KIM LAWRENCE was born and raised in north Wales. She returned there when she married, and her sons were both born on Anglesey, an island off the coast. Though not isolated, Anglesey is a little off the beaten track, but lively Dublin, which Kim loves, is only a short ferry ride away.

Today they live on the farm her husband grew up on. Welsh is the first language of many people in this area, and Kim’s husband and sons are all bilingual—she is having a lot of fun, not to mention a few headaches, trying to learn the language!

With small children, the unsocial hours of nursing didn’t look attractive, so encouraged by a husband who thinks she can do anything she sets her mind to, Kim tried her hand at writing. Always a keen Harlequin reader, it seemed natural for her to write a romance novel—now she can’t imagine doing anything else.

She is an avid gardener, loves to cook and enjoys running—often on the beach, as living on an island, the sea is never very far away. She is usually accompanied by her Jack Russell, Sprout—don’t ask, it’s a long story!

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

JAVIER drove through the large ornate gates and up the long winding driveway lined with olive trees towards the distinctive Moorish tower that stood against the backdrop of the mountains. He pulled the Mercedes he was driving in a space beside a battered Beetle which stood out like a sore thumb amongst the other expensive models.

So, Serge still hadn’t persuaded Sarah to part with her old car. An easy-going young woman who would, as a rule, do anything for her husband, Sarah did have a few blind spots.

Javier himself was unmarried, but did not lack female companionship. It had never required much, if any, effort on his part to have attractive women hanging on his every word, but no special woman had ever materialised from these adoring masses. The possibility that if and when he discovered her she wouldn’t be interested had simply not crossed his mind!

Then he’d met Sarah.

Now he was thirty-two, didn’t take anything for granted, and was, he liked to think, more discerning about women—too damned discerning, according to his grandfather, who wanted his chosen heir safely married.

Javier could have taken the easy option and chosen a suitable consort, a woman from a background similar to his own that would enable her to cope with the pressures of being a member of one of the wealthiest families in Europe, just as his father before him had. That was the problem, everytime he was tempted to take the easy way out Javier was confronted by the spectre of his parents’ disastrous union.

Before he’d left the family estate in Andalucia to make the journey to Majorca the old man had finally issued an ultimatum.

‘Marry before I die or I’ll leave everything to Raul or one of the others!’ Felipe Montero had warned his favourite grandson dramatically.

Javier’s immediate reaction to this not very subtle blackmail had been anger; did his grandfather know him so little that he imagined he could be bought…?

He turned to Felipe with much of the pride and hauteur his grandfather was famed for etched on his own chiselled features. What he saw in the old man’s lined face made him bite back the caustic response hovering on his tongue.

Javier had no illusions about what his grandfather was capable of. Felipe Montero was devious, he frequently bullied and connived, he routinely plotted and schemed—in short, when it came to getting his own way he was capable of acts of great ruthlessness. However he was never crude in his manipulations and, even more significantly, Javier had never seen his grandfather look frightened before!

‘You’ll live a long time yet…?’

Felipe smiled; Javier had never needed things spelled out. He was a sharp judge of character who read people almost as well as he read the financial markets.

‘No, as a matter of fact I won’t. The doctors give me six months at the outside.’

Javier didn’t tell Felipe that this wasn’t possible, he didn’t scream, as people often did when they were confronted with the mortality of someone they couldn’t imagine life without, that the doctors must be able to do something.

He wanted to, but he didn’t.

Instead after a short pause he nodded, not insulting his grandfather by questioning the grim prognosis.

‘What is it?’

‘Cancer. The damned thing’s spread from my lungs. So there’s not much point packing these things in,’ Felipe observed with a deep throaty chuckle as he inhaled deeply on his cheroot. ‘And don’t tell anyone else yet—nobody. If the news gets out millions will be wiped off the value of the company…’ A flicker of revulsion appeared in the older man’s eyes. ‘And I don’t doubt they’ll all start treating me as if I’m in my dotage,’ he added, a tremor in his deep voice. It wasn’t dying but the manner of it that scared Felipe Montero.

‘No one will do that.’

A silent promise was exchanged in the look that passed between the two men.

Felipe sighed, satisfied. ‘Unfortunately this couldn’t come at a worst time, of course, with the Brussels deal…’

An extremely disciplined man, it wasn’t often that Javier’s emotions got the better of him, but as he listened to his grandfather fret about the fate of the financial empire he’d expanded up over his lifetime something snapped.

‘There is such a thing as a good time to die?’ he gritted. ‘To hell with the company!’ His deep voice cracked. ‘You’re going to die, Grandfather.’

‘We’re all going to die,’ came the careless response. ‘If you really care,’ Felipe goaded slyly, ‘show it. Marry Aria…she loves you.’

A wry laugh was wrenched from Javier. ‘You never give up, do you?’

If and when he did marry, Javier knew it wouldn’t be to someone who loved him, someone he might hurt as his father had his mother. A fragile creature, his mother had never grasped the fact she was meant to turn a blind eye to her husband’s mistresses; she was meant to look attractive, bring up their son and be the perfect hostess.

‘This is no laughing matter, Javier,’ the old man reproached sternly. ‘Continuity, blood lines are important; you need sons.’

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t.’

The idea of losing his inheritance didn’t frighten Javier.

He immediately recognised that there was part of him that might actually welcome the situation. A man who needed the constant buzz of physical and mental challenges, he could think of few things more exciting than the challenge of starting from scratch, and few things more satisfying than knowing at the end of the day that everything you’d achieved was down to your own efforts, nothing to do with being born into a wealthy dynasty.

Wealth brought its privileges, but Javier had been raised to believe it also carried responsibilities. His deeply ingrained sense of family duty would never allow him to do anything more than occasionally dream about the luxury of being a free agent.

Deep down, however, he was pretty sure it wouldn’t come to that, his grandfather would never disinherit him for standing his ground. Nothing in his manner even hinted at this belief. He couldn’t do much for his grandfather but he could at least let Felipe play the heartless tyrant he liked the world to see him as.

Felipe searched his grandson’s unyielding face with growing frustration. ‘This is about that silly blonde you let Serge snatch right from under your nose, I suppose… Don’t look so stunned, boy.’ He laughed. ‘Do you think I’m blind? If you want my opinion, she’d have been a disastrous match for you…’

Javier swallowed his anger with difficulty.

‘…Far too sweet and malleable. You need someone with a bit more fire…’

‘Like Aria,’ Javier cut in drily.

Felipe conceded this point with a grunt. ‘Well, it doesn’t have to be her…but if you want to be my heir you’ll marry someone and soon…’

‘We shouldn’t be arguing…not now…’

‘Why change the habit of a lifetime? If you start agreeing with me the family will know something’s wrong straight away, and I won’t be able to move for everyone being nice to me,’ he observed with a shudder.

When two people who were congenitally incapable of compromise worked together there were bound to be some sparks. Javier’s combustible relationship with his grandfather was not without its moments of conflict, often vocal conflict, at least on Felipe’s side—Javier was more inclined to smouldering silences. Javier knew his rivals within the family frequently crossed their fingers and hoped he’d over-step the mark one day and alienate the old man totally. What they failed to understand was the deep mutual respect the warring parties felt for each other.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re a stubborn idiot!’ the old man railed at his tall grandson’s retreating back.

A man with extraordinary self-discipline, Javier pushed aside the personal issues that filled his mind as he stepped out of the air-conditioned luxury of his Mercedes. He barely registered the blast of baking heat which immediately hit him; Majorca had been experiencing one of its hottest Julys on record.

He consulted the discreet but expensive metallic banded watch on his wrist and nodded; he had a few minutes to spare. He couldn’t abide poor time-keeping in others and always made a point of never abusing his position of power by keeping others waiting himself. To his mind punctuality was a matter of simple good manners.

As he made his way towards the rear entrance of the large mellow stone building even his well-known critical eye for detail could find no fault in the delightful terraced gardens and wide, well-tended sweeps of green tree-dotted parkland. The pool area, when he reached it, was almost deserted but for a few stalwart—or was it foolish?—tourists sunning themselves in the fiery Majorcan midday sun.

‘Did you see who that was?’ a female guest hissed excitedly as she clambered wetly out of the pool.

Her sleepy husband opened his eyes reluctantly as wet hands urgently grabbed his shoulder. ‘Who…what…?’

‘There, it’s Javier Montero!’ she hissed as the tall man in the exquisitely cut suit shook hands in a friendly manner with the elderly gardener before moving away.

‘Sure, Javier Montero is on first name terms with all the casual labourers on the island…’

‘There’s no need to be sarcastic. I tell you, it was him. I mean, there can’t be two men who look like him.’

‘Don’t drool, Jean. And think, woman, what would Javier be doing here?’

‘Why wouldn’t he be here?’ she responded, with a gesture that encompassed the extensive grounds of the thirteenth-century Majorcan manor house with its distinctive Moorish tower. ‘He owns the place.’

An army of local craftsmen had returned the once neglected building to its original splendour. Tucked away in the Sierra de Tramuntana the exclusive hotel now provided a hideaway for those people who liked their retreats to combine the most up to date modern conveniences with historic ambience, top-class Mediterranean cuisine and personal attention from helpful staff.

Naturally this combination was very costly, but no more so than the other two hotels the Monteros owned on the island. Each establishment was aimed to appeal to specific clientele. People who wanted the cosmopolitan sophistication of Palma would find everything they could want in the elegant surroundings of the hotel situated right in the middle of the medieval old town; and those who liked a resort that offered them the choice of six top-class restaurants on site, a spa and every sporting facility known to man, with top-class tuition thrown in, would adore the resort hotel on the beautiful undeveloped northern coast of the island.

‘Sure, this hotel and God knows how many others around the world, and then there’s the airline, the racehorses and the interests in property development. Is there any pie the Monteros don’t have a finger in…?’ he wondered enviously. ‘I really doubt someone like Javier Montero involves himself in the day-to-day running of hotels,’ he announced, settling himself back down to sleep.

‘It was him.’

‘If you say so,’ her husband agreed, reapplying sunscreen to his peeling nose—it was too hot to fight.

He had been right on one count; though Javier was known to occasionally subject individual hotels to gruelling spot inspections, it wasn’t part of his remit to involve himself in the day-to-day running of individual establishments. Javier’s talents lay elsewhere.

Early on in his career he had displayed a remarkable ability for spotting untapped niches in the markets. This talent had been recognised and exploited, but he wasn’t just an ideas man; when a project was beset by difficulties, be it labour disputes or legal wranglings, Javier was the person who could be relied upon to get things running.

The information that had brought him hot-foot to the island hardened the naturally severe cast of Javier’s staggeringly handsome features as he knocked on the heavy oak-studded door of Serge’s office.

Though of average height, due to his massively broad shoulders and deep barrel chest, the swarthy-skinned man behind the desk gave the impression of being much taller.

‘Javier!’ Serge rose to his feet with a welcoming smile and the two men clasped hands and hugged. ‘It’s been too long.’

‘It has.’ Javier responded with the sort of smile that would have shocked rigid those members of the press who had dubbed him Mr Deep Freeze. ‘How are little Raul and…Sarah?’ Nobody seeing him smile would have guessed that he experienced any difficulty saying this name. ‘Where is she? I saw the car…’

‘It broke down the last time she was here,’ his friend admitted ruefully. ‘You can laugh, Javier, but it isn’t you that ends up pushing the cursed thing. Other than a stubborn, irrational affection for that old tin can on wheels, Sarah is fine—though your godson is keeping us both up nights.’

‘Then I expect you could have done without me asking you to do some discreet digging for me…?’

Serge shook his head. ‘Anything I can do, any time—you know this, Javier. I know you don’t like me saying this, but if we live to be a hundred there still won’t be enough time to pay you back what we owe you.’

‘You owe me nothing, Serge.’ Abruptly Javier changed the subject. ‘About the other thing…’ His dark angled eyebrows lifted and his eyes, startling blue in a face that was an even, deep gold, narrowed. ‘You’re sure about this, Serge?’

Serge sighed and looked grim. ‘I’m afraid so. The reports you heard were right.’

‘And you know who it is?’

‘A waiter working at the resort, a Luis Gonzalez, youngish…about twenty five. He came to work there at the start of the season…’

Javier didn’t make a note of the name but Serge knew that he would not forget the name or forgive the guilty party for the crime he had foolishly committed. Javier made a friend in a million but he was an implacable enemy.

‘References?’ Javier enquired, controlling his impatience; control was one of the things Javier prided himself on.

‘Impeccable forgeries.’

‘Nobody else is involved, nobody higher…?’

Serge Simeone shook his head.

Javier shrugged and squinted against the midday sun through the window, his expression inscrutable. ‘Well, that’s something.’

When it had come to his attention that a member of staff in the large resort hotel they owned down on the coast was using his position to deal drugs to guests, Javier, unsure as to how deep the rot was, had not risked involving any of the staff there; instead, he had gone to someone whose integrity he trusted totally.

‘You haven’t contacted the police yet?’

‘You asked me to wait. What are you going to do, Javier?’ His friend turned and for a moment Serge experienced a spasm of pity for the culprit. Javier’s long, angular, aristocratic face had the texture of cold marble; his deep set eyes were equally chilling. Serge knew that Javier had precious little sympathy with recreational drug use and even less with those who peddled the stuff, after his younger sister had nearly lost her life to addiction.

‘We’re going to pay Luis a visit.’

Kate Anderson tried not to show her shock as she flicked through the pile of grainy, slightly out-of-focus photos her younger sister had silently handed her after she’d asked, ‘Surely they can’t be that bad…?’ Now she knew they weren’t talking a couple of topless shots on the beach which even their conservative parents could have laughed off.

‘It could be anyone…?’ she croaked, trying desperately to put a positive slant on a very negative situation as she handed them back to her sister, who tore the incriminating images into shreds and let them drop to the floor.

While the negatives were not in their possession, both sisters knew this defiance was just an empty gesture.

‘It’s not anyone, it’s me! You’ve got to help me, Kate! You have to do something,’ Susie added, her expression an accurate reflection of her total faith in her sister’s ability to extract her from this present dilemma. After all, she’d been doing it successfully for the past twenty years. ‘You can’t let mum and dad find out…I’d die…’

Kate thought it was much more likely she’d have her generous allowance cut off, but then as far as Susie was concerned that probably amounted to much the same thing!

‘That would be…awkward,’ Kate admitted thinking of her parents’ faces if confronted by semi-nude photos of their younger daughter. She didn’t want to think about the consequences if they actually got into the hands of the press. She could think of several tabloids that would love to print compromising shots of a high court judge’s daughter.

‘What if he sends those photos to Chris…? He’ll never believe I wasn’t sleeping with Luis.’

‘You weren’t?’

Susie’s wails got louder. ‘See? Even you thought I was. Luis was someone to hang around with and go clubbing, he was fun… You don’t believe me,’ she accused. ‘I can tell…’

‘I believe you. Now hush, Susie, I’m thinking…’ Kate pleaded as she concentrated on the problem facing them.

The frown line between her feathery brows, which like her lashes were dark in dramatic contrast to the silver-blonde hair colour both sisters had inherited from their mother, deepened as she caught her lower lip between her even white teeth.

Unlike her sister, Kate’s features weren’t strictly symmetrical; her mouth was too wide and full and her aquiline nose had never inspired men to poetry. Her almond-shaped brown eyes, without a doubt her best feature, were unfortunately more often than not concealed behind the round lenses of her wire-framed spectacles.

With or without specs, the first impression people received of Kate Anderson was that she was a young woman with a lively intelligence, sharp wit, and boundless reserves of energy.

‘Susie got my looks; Kate’s the sensible one.’ Kate had lost count of the number of times she’d heard her mother explain away her supposed deficiencies to people.

‘What she lacks in looks she makes up for in personality,’ was her father’s kinder assessment.

Kate knew these were essentially accurate assessments, and she hadn’t done so badly out of the deal. Sensible had given her a lifestyle she enjoyed; but just occasionally, especially when she saw the way men reacted when Susie entered a room, she wished that she’d been standing a bit closer to the front of the queue when they’d handed out the sex appeal factor.

A spasm of sulky annoyance passed over Susie’s pretty face at this impatient dismissal; her tears in general evoked a more sympathetic response.

Kate dropped down into the wicker chair and pulled her knees up to her chin; her irritation bubbled to the surface. ‘What on earth possessed you to get involved with the man in the first place…? You’re supposed to be engaged to Chris… Are things all right between you and him, or are you having second thoughts?’

‘Don’t start on about me being too young to settle down again, Kate!’ Susie scowled. ‘I’m not like you; I don’t want a career and being engaged doesn’t mean you can’t have any fun,’ she announced with a toss of her blonde head.

Kate didn’t swallow this hard-nosed attitude for one minute, Susie was wilful but she was a long way from being as callous as she liked to pretend.

‘Fun! Couldn’t you have stuck to beach volley-ball?’

This evoked a watery smile. ‘Well, if you had arrived last week, like you were meant to, I wouldn’t have been so bored…’ Susie stretched one long sun-tanned leg in front of her. The complacent contemplation of the smooth expanse of shapely golden flesh made the sulky line of her lips lift attractively.

Only Susie, Kate decided, could turn this thing around so that her sister had the ultimate responsibility—Susie really was totally impossible, Kate reflected with rueful affection.

‘I had to work, you know that.’

‘Work?’ Susie snorted in disgust. ‘It’s all you ever think about. No wonder Seb dumped you.’ She lifted her head, pushing a strand of long blonde hair from her eyes, and grimaced apologetically. ‘Sorry, that was a bitchy thing to say,’ she admitted. ‘But,’ she added swiftly in her own defence, ‘this was the holiday from hell, even before Luis turned out to be a low-life, what with Mum and Dad spending every day traipsing around boring churches and things, wanting me to come along.’ Her horrified expression was an accurate indicator that these pastimes weren’t Susie’s idea of pleasure. ‘I always said a family holiday at our age was asking for trouble…’

‘I thought you decided it wouldn’t be so bad when you realised Dad was footing the bill,’ Kate couldn’t resist observing.

‘I just thank God they didn’t book that awful place in the mountains you fancied so much. There wasn’t anything to do there but watch the grass grow.’

‘There also wasn’t a Luis.’

‘Actually, Katie,’ Susie began with an awkward rush, ‘the photos…I think he might have spiked my drink when we were by the pool. I mean, I’m not one hundred per cent positive,’ she added hurriedly, ‘but I know a girl who had her drink spiked…’

Kate’s horrified gasp went ignored as her sister, oblivious to the fact she’d said anything to send chills through Kate’s blood, continued, ‘Oh, she was all right. Fortunately a gang of us arrived as the stuff was kicking in and the guy in question made a quick exit. She collapsed in the loos and we had an awful job getting her back home,’ she recalled. ‘It’s just B—her symptoms—’ Susie corrected herself with a display of discretion that surprised Kate ‘—I felt a lot like that. I could hardly get back to my own room, I felt so woozy, and I’d only had a glass of white wine…’

‘What a total sleaze!’ Kate exclaimed in disgust. ‘We should call the police.’

‘Get serious, Kate!’ Susie responded scornfully. ‘I could kick myself. I’m normally really careful about things like that—I never leave my glass on a table, I carry it around with me. Of course, I never accept a drink from a man I don’t know…’

‘Of course,’ Kate responded faintly.

As she had listened to Susie casually outlining the list of precautions which were obviously second nature to her, Kate wondered if she was herself extraordinarily trusting or just plain reckless, because even though she’d heard of such things happening since the advent of the so-called date rape drugs, she had never dreamt of taking any of these measures… But then she had never dated a stranger; her boyfriends such as they were had always been friends of friends or work colleagues.

‘What really gets me, is that he didn’t even try and touch me… It was Dad’s money he was interested in all along, not me!’

‘Well thank God for that!’

‘I just feel such a fool. I was wondering how I was going to let him down lightly; I thought he was potty about me. God, Katie!’ she wailed. ‘What am I going to do…?’

Placing a comforting arm around the younger girl’s shaking shoulders, Kate hugged her tight. She crossed her fingers. ‘Don’t worry, Suse, it’ll be all right.’ I hope!

‘Then you’ll lend me the money to pay him off…?’ Susie lifted her tear stained face eagerly.

‘We’re not giving him a penny,’ Kate responded, her tone outraged at the idea of giving into a blackmailer. ‘I’ll get the photos and the negatives.’

‘But how?’

‘That,’ admitted Kate frankly, ‘I haven’t worked out yet.’

‘Listen, Kate, I don’t think this is such a good idea. I mean, Luis isn’t going to hand them over, is he? And once or twice I’ve seen him talking with some shifty-looking types. Actually, I think he could be quite mean himself…’ She gave a shamefaced little grin. ‘I suppose, if I’m honest, that was half the attraction…the danger thing,’ she sniffed. ‘You know what I mean…’ She looked at her elder sister who pushed her specs up the bridge of her nose. ‘I don’t suppose you do. I know you think I’m a selfish little cow but even I might lose an hour or two’s sleep if you got hurt because of me.’

Kate pulled a tissue from the pocket of her shorts and dabbed her sister’s pink nose. ‘Don’t fret. I’ve no intention of getting hurt, Suse.’

Kate had waited an hour in the darkness watching the staff bungalow until she was satisfied there was nobody home. The wait had taken its toll, by the time she tentatively tried the door she felt physically sick with nerves and her heart was pounding so loud, its frantic, echoey thud cut out all other sounds. She couldn’t recall ever feeling this scared, not even the first time she’d made her court appearance as a newly qualified barrister.

She could hardly believe her luck when the door opened at the first try. Relieved she wouldn’t have to put her admittedly hazy knowledge of lock picking—second hand, naturally—to the test, Kate slid the credit card she’d brought for the purpose into the back pocket of her dark jeans and adjusted the dark hood on her head so that it covered all her pale hair.

Shining her torch around the darkened room, she picked her way stealthily through the discarded garments littering the carpet. Her skin crawled and she stifled a scream as her foot got entangled in a shirt. This whole enterprise was making her feel grubby. After this is over I’ll need a stiff drink and a bath, not necessarily in that order she thought as she carefully balanced the torch on top of the chest of drawers.

Her hands were shaking so much, it took her two goes to slide the top drawer open. Concentrate, Kate she told herself, taking a deep fortifying breath. It’s my lucky day she decided as her fingers closed around an envelope—the shape of which felt very promising…

Her newly fortified wits fled gibbering in panic as the room was suddenly flooded with strong light from a powerful flashlight that dwarfed her own feeble beam. Before she even had a chance to turn around, a pair of strong arms snaked around her, pinning one arm to her chest as, arched backwards by the tight embrace, her feet were lifted off the ground.

Her rudimentary Spanish could not cope with the staccato burst of furious-sounding words which hissed like bullets in her ear. With Susie’s warnings about this blackmailer and his shady friends ringing in her ears, she began to struggle wildly. With her free arm she flailed backwards, trying to inflict as much damage as possible, enough at least to make her captor loosen his grip. A chair and several sundry items, including her glasses, were casualties of her frenzied efforts to free herself.

Only this captor wasn’t letting her go, not even when she brought her trainer-shod heel—stilettos would have produced much more satisfactory results—down viciously onto his instep, the way they’d taught her in self-defence class. She took small comfort from the fact it must have hurt like hell because he cursed—at least it sounded like a curse.

Kate wasn’t a short woman and, though slim, she wasn’t delicate—she kept herself fit, she ran and enjoyed playing sports—but it soon became clear to her that she was vastly outclassed. It was obvious that restraining her was not overly exerting her captor, who wasn’t even breathing heavily. A pragmatist, she quickly accepted she couldn’t fight her way out of this situation—that left talking her way out, and she was good at that…

‘Please…let me go!’ she panted, forcing her body to go limp.

‘English?’

The startled exclamation across the room was the first indication to her that she wasn’t only outclassed but outnumbered too.

‘You’re English?’ The low, cultured voice close to her ear had only the faintest husky tinge of an attractive accent.

This must be one of the waiter’s sinister friends, she reasoned, recalling Susie’s comments on Luis’s charming broken English—unless that too had been part of his scam.

‘Of course I’m English!’ she exclaimed at her most haughty.

‘A woman…?’ The voice from across the room exclaimed.

‘I had noticed,’ her captor replied drily before switching to rapid Spanish.

Probably issuing instructions about where to dispose of my body, Kate thought, as she struggled in vain to catch the gist of what was being said. Her mind was working furiously. How long will it be before anyone misses me…? Not until morning at the earliest, she realised with dismay.

She’d excused herself early from dinner with her parents, pleading a headache, and if Susie had carried on drinking wine at the rate she had been when Kate had left she would now either be dead to the world or dancing the night away in the nearest night-club.

‘I’m going to put you down now. Do not try to escape.’

Kate nodded her head compliantly whilst privately vowing to do just the opposite should the opportunity arise.

Released from the iron grip and with her feet back on the ground, Kate’s knees displayed the consistency of cotton wool. Fortunately her spirit was more resilient. Chin up—not too much: she didn’t want to come across as bolshy, more an innocent victim of circumstance—she turned to face her aggressors.

‘Will you take that thing out of my eyes?’ she appealed, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the torch.

After a moment someone responded to her request.

She could now see, though the loss of her specs meant the one standing some way away was nothing but a blurred outline suggestive of threatening bulk. The one who had held her was another matter! He was close enough for her to see quite well. Like herself, he was clad from head to toe in black. There the similarity ended!

The hard, lean, muscle-packed torso Kate already knew about from her struggles; the rest of the package reduced her to a stunned silence. She blinked several times as she assimilated the attributes of her assailant, who ironically turned out to be the most physically perfect specimen of manhood she’d ever come across. These numerous attributes included ridiculously broad shoulders, snaky slim hips and long legs, and then there was his face…!

And what a face! God I’m thinking in superlatives, some objective corner of her mind observed as she drank in the details of his long, arrestingly attractive, angular features. His was a starkly uncompromising face—a high intelligent forehead, an almost hawkish nose reminiscent of the strong Moorish inheritance she’d seen reflected in many parts of Spain, his beautifully sculpted slashing cheekbones stretched his even golden-toned skin taut and his mouth was an intriguing combination of control and passion. The jutting angles and sculpted planes married sweetly, giving their owner a countenance that could never be overlooked in a crowd, but combined with his incongruously blue eyes, fringed with extravagant lush lashes and slanted ebony brows, the exceptional became the extraordinary.

The deep-set, startling blue eyes narrowed as he subjected her to a scrutiny just as thorough as her own of him—he didn’t appear overly impressed by what he saw. ‘Now, señorita, where is Gonzalez?’ he demanded impatiently.

CHAPTER TWO

MUTELY Kate shook her head.

He subjected her to another glare of biting derision before abruptly firing a quick sentence in Spanish at his companion who immediately extinguished the light.

For a moment there was total inky darkness. Kate, her brain working frantically, began to speculate on her chances of getting to the door before she was caught. It had to be evens or better? What did she have to lose? Quite a lot, actually, came the instant reply, and besides you haven’t got the photos yet.

‘Don’t even think about it.’

She jumped as the wry voice emerged from the inky blackness, slicing through her frantic thoughts of escape.

The owner’s powerful profile that matched the dark dangerous drawl was revealed as the second man pulled back the curtain, allowing the moonlight to filter into the room.

Kate blinked, dazzled, as the flashlight once more swept across her face; it moved past her and she saw the second man shake his head.

‘Are you expecting him tonight?’ The tall one, who had boss written all over him, recommenced his interrogation.

‘I’ve never met Gonzalez,’ she rebutted honestly.

Kate suspected she might be in the middle of a falling out between villains; she didn’t want to accidentally reveal anything that might make her position even more precarious.

Under the circumstances, playing dumb might not be so hard, she decided bitterly, because only someone spectacularly stupid would have blundered in here like this! They must, she reasoned—now I can reason!—have been lying in wait.

Her guileless response evoked no softening in the magnificently moody face of her sinister interrogator.

‘You just wandered in here by accident…?’ His eyes skimmed the outfit she’d chosen for her first foray into breaking and entering. ‘Dressed like that?’ A derisive snort emerged from between those fascinating lips—cruel lips, she thought, unable to control the fearful little shudder that chased along her spine.

‘You’re one to talk,’ she retorted, peering myopically from one man to the other; both their muscular bodies were sheathed in close-fitting black outfits. We must look like a convention of cat burglars; her full lips twitched at the mental image of a social gathering of black-clad thieves.

‘You find something funny about this?’ he grated incredulously.

The second man had faded into the shadows, apparently content to let his partner in crime do all the talking—perhaps he was the muscle. Not that this guy looked like he needed any help in that area, she mused, as her eyes slid over his impressive torso—not an ounce of spare flesh anywhere that she could see. In fact, in that close-fitting top, if she squinted she could just about make out the slabs of individual muscle across… Stop! The warning voice inside her head shrieked.

Kate took a deep breath and pushed her fear and lustful speculation aside as she tried to view the situation objectively—or at least without gibbering fearfully or drooling lustfully. If she was going to get out of this, he was the one she had to talk round, she decided, weighing up her opposition objectively. What she saw was not wildly encouraging. She’d seen rock faces with more give than that chiselled jawline.

‘Oh, yes, I’m just wild about being jumped on in the dark by some stupid big thug,’ she was frustrated into commenting bitterly. She prodded her aching ribs tentatively. ‘I’ll probably be black and blue tomorrow, which isn’t a good look in a bikini…’ she grumbled, even though she favoured one-piece bathing suits. Talking, even if she was talking rubbish, gave her time to think… At least, that was the theory…

‘If I’m such a vicious thug of limited intelligence, shouldn’t you be treating me with a little more respect…?’

The man had a point and, as for the intelligence part, if those alert eyes were any indication at all he had a brain like a steel trap.

‘Is that a threat?’

‘If I threaten you, you’ll know about it.’

‘I see not a threat, just a boast.’ With dismay, she saw a flicker of interest enter those laser-like eyes—she didn’t want his interest. Her release from this depended on him considering her harmless and an air of stupidity wouldn’t do her case any harm either. Despite this conviction, she couldn’t stop herself adding, ‘I’m normally prepared to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, but in this instance I don’t think there’s any if about it. You are a vicious thug and yes, I probably should shut up, but when I’m nervous I babble…always have done…’

‘I don’t think you’re nervous,’ he cut in smoothly. ‘I think that under that wide-eyed candour you’re as hard as nails. Did you arrange to meet Gonzalez here? Or did he perhaps ask you to pick something up for him? Does he know we’re on to him? Well?’

‘It won’t do you any good to bully me.’ She saw a flicker of amazement chase across his strong-boned features and wondered if she was being daring or just plain stupid to antagonise him. The truth was, she couldn’t help herself; something about this man made her want to score points…

‘I am not a bully!’ he refuted in an irritated steely drawl.

She smiled in polite disbelief and heard what might have been his even white teeth grinding. ‘And it won’t do you any good,’ she elaborated. ‘Because I’ve not the faintest idea what you’re talking about.’ She shook her head so emphatically that the hood of her sweat top slipped off her head.

One dark brow rose as her silver-blonde tresses tumbled free from the loose knot she’d hastily confined them in on her head. Her stomach lurched as, with studied insolence, those electric-blue eyes moved over her body pausing overly long in significant areas.

Kate’s first instinct was to cover herself with her hands. She almost immediately saw how ludicrous and demeaning her response to the earthy sexual appraisal was, and let her hands fall away; in doing so she saw the strands of dark hair caught in her fist.

Unobtrusively she wriggled her fingers to dislodge them; it didn’t seem wise to remind someone with such violent inclinations of the no doubt painful moment when her fingers had become blindly entangled in his hair—lush, silky hair, she recalled. Her fingertips tingled uncomfortably as her brain replayed the sensation. With a head of hair like that, she thought practically, he wasn’t going to miss the little bit she had ripped out.

‘Or maybe you knew he wasn’t here… Maybe this is a bit of private enterprise…? You were taking advantage of his absence to help yourself?’ He fired the fresh volley of questions at her like bullets without removing his unnerving gaze from her face for even a second. ‘What was she about to take out of the drawer, Serge?’

It was spooky. This man it seemed didn’t feel the need to blink—but then he probably had iced water running through his veins, not blood, she thought, rubbing her arms where a rash of goosebumps had broken out.

‘It’s true I didn’t come here by accident exactly,’ Kate admitted with discomfort as the silent second man, moving with surprising speed for one so large, headed towards the chest of drawers.

Apprehension made Kate’s pulse rate soar, an acceptable thing to happen to the most cool-headed of individuals, given the circumstances; the problem was, Kate knew it was only part of the story—there was in fact a much more significant factor. The main reason for the state of near-collapse of her nervous system was—that man! She glared angrily up at the stranger’s dark saturnine face and her insides tightened another painful notch.

The man projected raw sexuality like a force field; she’d never come across anything like it! However, now was no time to analyse her curiously strong reaction to her cold-eyed interrogator; she needed to be clear headed and focused.

Being clear-headed wasn’t as easy as it sounded when you couldn’t rid yourself of a nasty, nagging suspicion. What if Susie wasn’t the only Anderson who was attracted by danger…? Especially when it came so spectacularly packaged. Oh, God, I’m so shallow! In the future she definitely wouldn’t be making so free with her superior sniffs and pitying looks, Kate decided, swallowing a large dose of humility.

‘I came here to retrieve something, but it doesn’t belong to this Mr Gonzalez. It’s…mine.’ She kept her voice cool enough but she couldn’t stop her eyes darting nervously in the direction of the bulky figure who was sifting through the contents of the drawer, which were now scattered on the ground.

A combination of nerves and the heat in the room made Kate’s thin sweatshirt cling damply to her back; sweat pooled uncomfortably in the hollow between her breasts. Conscious of the constant presence of those piercing blue eyes drilling into her skull, she licked her lips nervously.

She’d studied enough guilty people to know she was displaying all the classic signs of guilt herself.

‘She was holding this, I think, Javier.’

Kate couldn’t stop herself from lunging wildly forwards for the parcel of photographs as they passed between the two men. ‘They’re mine!’ she yelled.

For several stubborn seconds she resisted the compulsion of fingers like iron which closed mercilessly around her wrist before her stiffly clenched fingers unfurled. Tears of pain and frustration standing out in her eyes, she glared resentfully up at her persecutor.

‘You’ve no right…’ Her voice faded away as the one she now knew was called Javier slid one long finger under the sealed opening of the package. Paralysed by horror, she watched as he withdrew one glossy print and held it up.

Kate’s face flamed as his clinical glance moved from the photo in his hand to her and back again before he slid it back in. He pulled out a strip of negatives and held it up to the light. His nostrils flared and his lips quivered faintly in an attitude of fastidious distaste as he briefly viewed the images revealed.

The other man shot him a question in Spanish which he replied to in the same language—the reply made the other man laugh in surprise. Kate’s hands balled into fists as she gritted her teeth; every natural feeling in her rebelled at the idea of these two sniggering at her Susie’s expense.

‘Do you do this sort of thing for a living, or is it just a hobby?’

He thinks they’re pictures of me! Kate’s jaw dropped. In other circumstances she might have felt flattered to have her body confused with that of her lovely younger sister, but on this occasion it just made her flip. Where moments before she had felt embarrassed and defensively protective of Susie, now she experienced a flash of blazingly hot rage.

If her adversary hadn’t possessed startlingly swift reactions, her closed-fisted blow would have made contact with his lean cheek. Kate, who had never felt the need to resort to anything as crude as brute force in her life experienced a moment of confusion and shock at her actions before the overpowering need to escape overwhelmed her.

‘Let me go!’ she shrieked, landing a kick on his shins before she subsided her eyes flashing, her breath coming in short gasps. Her nostrils quivered; underneath the light expensive male fragrance he wore she could smell the clean-washed, spicy, masculine scent that she’d noticed before she’d even laid eyes on him—it had bothered her then, and it bothered her more now.

‘Now you show your true colours,’ came the disdainful observation. ‘Cool down, little cat. I have no interest in your sleazy snaps; you can have them…’

Kate felt so pathetically relieved by this contemptuous information that she could have wept. Trying to retain a semblance of dignity, still panting from her exertions, she looked pointedly at his dark fingers still encircling her wrist and did her best to ignore the languid contempt in his tone. She couldn’t afford to lose her temper; he had the photos and for Susie’s sake she had to get them, even if this involved a bit of humiliation.

With an unpleasant, sneery sort of smile that made Kate’s fingers itch to remove it from his smug face, he released her hand and mockingly inclined his glossy head. ‘…When I have the information I require,’ he completed the white crocodile smile fading completely.

Kate’s shoulders slumped as her eyes stayed trained on the photos held tantalisingly out of reach. She was fast coming to the conclusion he was playing cat and mouse games with her and, the awful part was, there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

‘I don’t know anything.’ She sighed wearily as she rubbed her tender wrist; the imprint of those strong brown fingers seemed to be branded into her flesh.

‘Cut the innocent act. You obviously know him, unless you send pornographic pictures of yourself to total strangers…?’ he sneered.

Pink spots of outrage appeared on her smooth cheeks. ‘They are not pornographic, they’re…they’re tasteful,’ she finished, unable to repress a weak grimace at the memory of the photos.

‘Sure they’re art,’ he drawled insultingly. ‘What’s the connection? Is he your lover, or your supplier?’

‘Supplier?’ she exclaimed. Her eyes widened as her frown of incomprehension lifted. ‘Drugs!’ Oh, God, what have I walked into? Had Luis Gonzalez tried to muscle in on the big boys? Were these men here to teach him a lesson, or worse…? ‘This is a m-misunderstanding,’ she stuttered. ‘I know nothing about any drugs.’

‘Of course you don’t.’

Her eyes filled with tears of sheer frustration. She blinked hard to stop them spilling over. If she could weep like Susie—it was one of life’s mysteries how Susie cried so picturesquely—tears might get her somewhere, but she couldn’t see this man being touched by her own blotchy face and runny nose.

‘Why won’t you believe me? Do I look like a drug addict or something?’

‘And what do they look like?’ If he’d been so damned good at spotting the signs, Javier reflected bitterly, his sister would have been spared those agonising months of rehabilitation.

‘You should know. It’s your business, not mine.’

He went rigid. Not a muscle in his face moved, but his eyes blazed like twin points of fury. ‘Women like you are incomprehensible! Why do you protect him?’ he demanded. ‘Is it fear, or some misplaced sense of loyalty? A man like that will pull you down to his level, and when you get there he’ll leave you…’

Without any warning he grabbed her arm and, swiftly rolling up the sleeve of her top, ran one long finger softly over the blue-veined inner aspect of her left wrist and forearm. Under the light his accessory helpfully directed over the area, his keen eyes searched her fair blemishless skin for tell-tale marks.

Kate shivered helplessly as tingling arrows of electricity shot up her arm. Instinctively she started to pull back and then stopped as a strange heavy lethargy stole over her. Her leaden-lidded eyes were riveted on the image of his dark fingers on her skin; heat travelled like a flash-flood, bathing her entire body; the distant buzzing in her head got closer.

She only started breathing again when he released her.

‘Satisfied now?’ With dignity she rolled down her sleeve.

‘Not quite.’

Her stomach muscles clenched as she saw his intention. Her angry dark eyes clashed with his emotionless gaze for several seconds before she conceded defeat.

‘Let me,’ she said sarcastically as she turned back the sleeve that covered her right arm. Chin lifted defiantly, she thrust out her arm in front of him.

She waited for him to look away, embarrassed, shocked or maybe repelled—she’d seen all the reactions which, to her mind, were wildly out of proportion to the small puckered area of skin, pinker than the rest of her skin, that lay along the inside of her arm, just above her elbow joint—there was another, smaller and less prominent area on her shoulderblade which the plastic surgery had not quite been able to conceal.

It was amazing how such a small blemish could throw some people and make them look at you differently. Kate had decided a long time ago that other people’s squeamishness was their problem, not hers, and she didn’t go out of her way to conceal or reveal the childhood scars she still bore from a domestic accident.

This man wasn’t thrown. Neither did he fall into the category of those who politely pretended not to notice the marks. Seb had been one of those—Seb who, despite his protests that it really didn’t matter to him, had never been able to bring himself to touch the scarred area.

This man had no such qualms. He took the arm she defiantly offered between his big hands and turned it slightly sideways, rubbing his thumb lightly over the shiny scar tissue as he did so. Kate shivered and the blue eyes lifted momentarily.

‘A burn?’ There was not a shred of pity in his expression and over the years Kate had become something of an expert at detecting it.

She cleared her throat, it felt raw and achey. ‘Are you always this morbidly curious…?’

‘You are not comfortable discussing it?’

Not just mad, bad and indisputably dangerous, he had to turn out to be into amateur psychology—this just got better and better! ‘Not with homicidal maniacs.’

‘Do you know many homicidal maniacs?’

Kate shook her head. ‘Most murders are domestic,’ she announced authoritatively. ‘If you’ve seen enough…do you mind…?’ she added, with a cool nod to her arm. It was hard to project cool when this man’s touch made her shiver.

He straightened up and their eyes met again. Kate had the impression he saw through her bravado, saw right through to the insecure teenager she’d once been, still learning to cope with the occasional stare or rude comment. Disliking the feeling of vulnerability, she shook her head to dispel the scary illusion as she pulled the fabric back down over her arm.

‘I hope,’ he remonstrated severely, touching the stretchy cotton fabric of her top, ‘you do not cover yourself all the time.’

This whole situation, she decided, was getting distinctly surreal. She was getting personal advice from someone who waited in dark rooms for blackmailing drug-dealers. Perhaps working with the criminals had given her a unique rapport with the fraternity; if her mother was to be believed, it had given her a twisted and cynical outlook on life.

‘Only when I’m doing a spot of breaking and entering.’ She bit her lip. Irony was a luxury a person in her position could not afford. Then, emboldened by the unexpected gleam of amusement in his eyes, she nodded towards the photos. ‘Listen,’ she continued in her most persuasive tone—there was no point dismissing out of hand the slim possibility that he was human, after all. ‘I honestly don’t know your friend, so why don’t I just leave and forget I ever saw you?’

‘Friend? Por Dios…!’

Kate backed away from the lash of contemptuous fury in his voice and carried on backing nervously until the sound of the heavy-set second thug clearing his throat significantly brought her to an abrupt halt. She looked over her shoulder and discovered he was positioned, arms folded across his massive chest, in front of the only exit.

‘I tell you, I don’t know him. I’m just a guest here. I only arrived today…’

As she’d appealed to his partner, the second man sauntered up to join him—Kate had almost forgotten his silent presence. She turned her head as the flashlight he carried shone momentarily in her eyes. ‘If we let her go, she could warn him we’re on to him.’

The sinister significance of this observation was not lost on Kate, who paled with alarm. ‘If,’ she exclaimed shrilly. ‘What do you mean, if? You lay a finger or try and stop me leaving and I’ll make so much noise…’

The one in command winced at her shrill tone. ‘Make any more noise than you already are and a concerned guest or member of staff might call the police.’

The best news she’d heard all day—and a long, long day it had been. Had it only been this morning she’d boarded the flight to Palma…? Somehow this wasn’t quite the Sangria and sunset sort of end to the day she’d anticipated.

‘Let’s cut out the middle man,’ she suggested tartly, reaching for the phone and holding it out to him. Her scars might not have fazed him but Kate could tell her response had taken him aback, and maybe he was right. Maybe she was acting foolishly—somehow, though, she didn’t think tears and pleas were going to get her very far.

‘And I would naturally feel obligated to hand over these,’ he tauntingly wafted the pack of photos in front of her nose.

‘And they’d believe your story? I think I might have a little more credibility with the police than you,’ she countered calling his bluff.

For some reason, this claim caused his companion to laugh, though he did sober up fast enough when he was on the receiving end of a silencing glare.

‘You think so?’

He wasn’t to her mind displaying the sort of dismay a shady character like him ought to when threatened with the forces of law. Perhaps he hid his illicit dealings behind a legitimate front, she speculated uneasily.

‘I’m a very respectable person.’

‘Now, I might be swayed by the throbbing note of conviction and the big brown eyes…but the police, they generally like more concrete proof…’

‘You want proof…right.’ With a triumphant smile of pure relief she remembered the card in her pocket. ‘That’s me, K. M. Anderson.’ She shoved her credit card under his nose. ‘I’m sharing one of the bungalows with my—with a friend…’ No need, she decided, to involve Susie.

‘You could have stolen it,’ he replied glancing without interest at her gold card. ‘In fact, under the circumstances, I’d say that’s highly likely.’

Kate’s chest swelled with indignation, a fact that didn’t escape her tormentor’s notice. Kate’s eyes began to sparkle angrily as his eyes dropped with unabashed interest on the heaving contours. To her horror, she felt her nipples harden and peak.

Lecherous creep, she thought, her anger intensified by the treacherous reactions of her body and the accelerated rate of her heartbeat.

‘One of the things I hate most in this world is men who can’t keep their eyes on a woman’s face when they’re talking to her!’ she announced with scornful defiance.

That refocused his attention all right; the astonished blue gaze instantly zoomed in on her face.

The startled gasp, followed by a low chuckle, didn’t come from the man whose enigmatic scrutiny was making her wish like mad she’d kept quiet on the subject, but from his partner.

‘As I was saying,’ she began doggedly, ‘I didn’t steal the card. It’s mine. I brought it along in case the door was…’ She stopped abruptly, her eyes growing round in dismay as she bit back the incriminating explanation.

‘Locked…?’ The fascinating network of fine lines around his cerulean eyes deepened.

Kate felt her guilty blush deepen.

‘What a resourceful woman you are…. You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.’

‘Why should I? You haven’t told me why you’re here and I’m pretty sure it’s not by invitation,’ she murmured stroppily.

‘Hush!’ he admonished, cutting her off with abrupt urgency before turning to his companion. ‘Serge, did you hear that?’

The hot flare of anticipation Kate glimpsed in his blue eyes suggested to her that she was dealing with an adrenaline junkie, the type who got high on danger, she speculated. The sort that took risks and got a kick out of doing so. She’d often noted these two qualities, allied with a callous disregard for the law, in some of her clients—men who, had they channelled their talents into less anti-social endeavours, would probably have made very successful businessmen, or even for that matter lawyers like herself.

The other man nodded and replied softly. ‘It could be Gonzalez?’

The light was suddenly doused and Kate’s hopeful ears were rewarded by the sound of footsteps on the paved area outside the window. She didn’t care who it was, it was the chance she’d been waiting for. She opened her mouth to cry for help.

Before she had a chance to raise the alarm, a large hand clamped down hard over her parted lips whilst another twisted her arm behind her back. ‘You want to warn your lover?’ a cold, hateful voice rasped mockingly in her ear, Kate tried to turn her head, hating his contempt, hating the sensation of his warm breath on her neck, and fearing the confusing ripples of sensation it created. ‘I don’t think so…’

Biting his hand as hard as she could was not the most subtle response, but Kate was desperate by this point.

He didn’t cry out, even though she felt the salty tang of blood on her tongue, but his grip did slacken—only slightly, but it was the moment Kate had been tensely waiting for. It was enough to allow her to break free. With a determined, sinuous wriggle, she twisted away from him and even before she was upright began to run. Head down, she hit the floor, running like a sprinter ducking desperately for the winning line.

CHAPTER THREE

KATE opened her eyes and moaned. She looked around groggily. This was new—waking up in a strange bed, in a strange bedroom. Not all new experiences were good ones and actually this was one she could well have lived without!

She couldn’t have amnesia. She knew her name; she could even recite her pin number and other personal details. She just didn’t recall the events that had culminated in her being in this bed—maybe this was an occurrence some girls could take in their stride, but not her. Don’t panic, Kate, she told herself, there has to be a perfectly simple explanation for this.

The problem was, try as she might, she couldn’t come up with it. She attacked the problem with her usual vigour and all she got for her troubles was a brain ache.

The last thing she remembered was getting on the flight for Palma; her memories of that were perfectly clear. She’d ended up holding a baby all the way for the harassed young mother travelling alone with two active toddlers and a fretful six-month-old. The mother had been grateful; the baby had expressed his gratitude by throwing up all over her cream linen designer suit.

The unthinkable suddenly occurred to her. What if she wasn’t alone in the strange bed? Holding her breath, she reached behind her, a relieved sigh escaped her lips as the search came up empty.

Javier entered the room just as she was blindly patting the pillow, her eyes screwed tightly shut. He heard her hoarse sigh from the other side of the room. A spasm of amusement lightened the severity of his lean, dark features as he approached, a nightdress folded over one arm.

It wasn’t too hard to interpret his guest’s actions. Ms K. M. Anderson—it hadn’t taken long to discover that they did indeed have a K. M. Anderson staying—was wondering if she’d woken up beside a stranger. From her reactions, it seemed safe to assume this wasn’t an everyday occurrence for her.

Javier found himself idly wondering what her response would have been if her hand had encountered his own body instead of the pillow lying there beside her. For a brief moment he imagined her turning, arms outstretched, a smile of invitation on those full sexy lips. Reality intervened; it was much more likely, considering her reckless streak, she’d have picked up the nearest heavy blunt object and knocked him senseless with it. All the same, even his remarkable will power could not totally banish the lingering image of warm, welcoming arms.

Frowning, Kate rolled onto her back. The large fans swooshing silently overhead seemed in keeping with the tasteful and expensive Colonial-style furnishings in the room around her. Her parents’ beachfront bungalow had similar furnishing, though it wasn’t nearly as spacious.

Of course! She was on holiday. She was in bed at the hotel in the room she shared with Susie… Her relieved expression faded—this theory only worked to a point. This lavishly appointed space wasn’t their much more modest bedroom with its twin beds, rattan furniture and a nice view of one of the pools from the dinky veranda.

‘My head hurts,’ she complained out loud.

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘You!’ Kate shrieked in loathing.

She shot bolt upright, bristling with antipathy. The mystery of her brain blanking out the last few hours was a mystery no longer; it had merely been a protective reflex. Protecting her from the worst day of her life.

‘How did I get here?’ Not under her own steam, that much she knew, and where was ‘here’? ‘Kidnapping is a very serious offence.’ It was in England, and she had no reason to believe the Spanish treated this offence any differently.

One slanted brow rose politely. ‘So I believe.’

It was frustratingly apparent her stern warning hadn’t had any effect on his bone-deep air of assurance—other than to infuse it with a slight edge of infuriating, indulgent amusement—but then why would it…? She was talking to a hardened, desperate criminal. There was every likelihood he had probably done a lot worse than kidnapping! Perhaps he still thought she was some junkie who nobody would miss?

‘And there are people who will miss me…lots of people…’ She broke off abruptly clutching her head as an arrow of agony shot through her temple.

Through a miasma of pain, Kate felt the mattress give as he came to sit on the edge; her nose quivered as she encountered the attractive male fragrance emanating from his warm body—any closer and she might feel the warmth too. Kate tensed at the thought. This was getting way too intimate for her liking! With a muffled cry of protest that hurt her head, she tried to shuffle blindly away, but a firm hand on her elbow prevented her.

‘I won’t hurt you.’ Kate was mad with herself for instinctively believing him, despite all the evidence to the contrary. ‘You should lie down; you took quite a knock.’

‘You should know, you probably delivered it,’ she retorted through gritted teeth.

‘Actually you ran full pelt into the wardrobe—solid mahogany. Renewable sources of course; the owners have a very green policy…’

This information did actually correspond with Kate’s own hazy recollection of the incident. ‘You make it sound as if I did it on purpose,’ she muttered truculently. ‘Actually, I had my eyes closed.’ Like now.

Her blue-veined eyelids flickered as she felt the pad of one fingertip brush aside a strand of hair from her forehead. Her mind supplied a vivid lifelike image—possibly aided by the fact she could still smell his elusive male scent—to go with the action. The image of long, sensitive, tapering fingers, very dark in dramatic contrast to her fair creamy skin, lingered in her mind as her stomach muscles began to quiver uncomfortably.

Keeping her eyes closed, she told herself, had nothing to do with being afraid of seeing his raw sex appeal up close. The light hurt her eyes—that was all.

‘From the look of your spectacle lenses, it wouldn’t have made much difference if you’d had them open,’ he murmured, his deep voice laced with disparaging amusement. ‘Does the light hurt your eyes?’

‘A little.’ Kate was willing to ignore this insulting slur on her eyesight. He had her glasses—she needed them, and much as it went against the grain it was time for a bit of pleading. ‘You’ve got my glasses? Give them to me.’ She opened her eyes. ‘Please,’ she added gruffly. ‘Being without them is like…like being naked.’ It was hard enough to explain the vulnerability of being short-sighted to anyone not similarly afflicted, but to someone as genetically perfect as this man it was probably a waste of breath.

His perfection was hard to miss this close too. She didn’t need her specs to assimilate the dark, brooding magnificence of his strong-boned features—looking at them alarmingly intensified the dizziness she was experiencing.

‘I’m afraid I stepped on them in the dark.’

‘You did it deliberately!’ she heard herself wail childishly.

‘They say your other senses compensate…’

Kate watched with total fascination as his long fingers made a stroking sensation a hair’s breath away from the pale skin of her forearm. As if those well manicured fingertips were electrified, the fine hairs on her skin became erect.

Was this the unnatural affinity she’d heard abductees developed with their kidnappers? she wondered hazily as her insides dissolved in the flood of scalding liquid heat which cascaded through her body. Like hell it is, Kate! Face facts! This is lust, sexual attraction—at least, on my side—plain and simple. His motivation for playing cat and mouse games were less immediately obvious.

‘…when one sense is compromised,’ the insidiously sexy drawl continued. ‘In my experience, closing my eyes often enhances and heightens tactile sensations…’

Her shameless brain immediately provided several steamy images of situations where he might feel obliged to close his eyes. The situations revealed in those fragmented images uniformly necessitated him being naked, his golden skin gleaming beneath a layer of sweat. The hoarse groan of pleasure she imagined being ripped from his throat was so realistic that a swiftly subdued whimper emerged from her own throat—this was getting out of hand.

So the man was incredibly good-looking, sinfully sexy and packed more masculinity into his little finger than most men did in their entire bodies… That was no excuse to lose the plot, Kate told herself sternly.

‘This might help that naked feeling you were talking about.’

Kate looked blankly from his enigmatic face to the creamy cotton scoop-necked nightdress he handed her. Her brain made the link between his words and the garment and she bit her lip. She wasn’t—was she?

She hardly dared, but she forced herself to look downwards at her own body—it could have been worse, but not much. Her skin looked dramatically pale against the black of the simple bra she wore; she couldn’t see them but she knew her matching pants would afford an equally stark contrast.

‘You took my clothes off!’ she choked, her voice shaking with outrage and suspicion. Was that all he’d done…?

‘I did,’ he confirmed, coolly unapologetic. ‘It seemed the most sensible thing to do under the circumstances. You were burning up.’

If she hadn’t been, she was now! With a fraught squawk of dismay, she belatedly slid beneath the duvet, leaving only her face and tousled ash-blonde hair peeking out.

One dark brow rose expressively. ‘There is really no need for a display of false modesty; women on the beach wear less than you are.’ One corner of his mouth lifted as a devilish gleam appeared in his eyes. ‘Considerably less, actually,’ he added drily. ‘Or are you afraid you’ll inflame my lust? Don’t…I have strong control.’

In other words, he wasn’t that desperate!

His languid drawl sent an extra-sharp stab of pain through Kate’s pounding skull. Though she never normally envied Susie her looks, at that moment she wouldn’t have minded having the equipment to make this man eat his contemptuous words.

‘Oh, yes, you struck me right off as someone oozing strong moral fibre,’ she sneered, oozing hostility. ‘And as for women on the beach, they haven’t been interfered with by a raving lunatic.’

‘Do you always have such lurid fantasies?’

Kate’s cheeks flamed. With one quirk of an eyebrow he’d managed to give the distinct impression he wouldn’t touch her with a ten foot barge pole. ‘None involving you!’

An honest girl, Kate knew she would in the future. It was inevitable; he was the sort of male that made the female unconscious run riot. She just hoped her fantasies would wait until she was safe in the bosom of her family—she refused to allow herself to contemplate if. She was going to get away from this man.

Javier saw her wince. ‘You really should not shout or get agitated,’ he remonstrated.

‘Advice from you I can do without.’

He gave a shrug. ‘I removed your clothes because you were dressed inappropriately for the weather conditions. Though ideally for a spot of larceny,’ he added slyly.

‘Are you calling me a thief?’ she gritted.

‘If the cap fits…?’

‘Takes one to know one…’ she countered childishly.

‘Takes a thief to catch a thief,’ he riposted without a pause.

‘Gosh, your colloquial English is really very good.’ I can’t believe I just said that…! I’ve been knocked unconscious, kidnapped, I’m lying as good as naked in a strange bed in the company of an indisputably dangerous man who could do anything at any moment and all I can do is admire his grammar…!

His heavy lids drooped hiding the expression in his deep set eyes momentarily from Kate. ‘The British, they’re just priceless.’

‘Pardon?’

Those lush dark lashes lifted off his cheekbones revealing cynical blue. ‘Shades of the empire; you refuse to learn another language and delight in commenting on foreigners’ funny accents.’

Kate, who was mortified by this interpretation of her unthinking observation, couldn’t help but observe that his deep velvety drawl could be classified as many things, including dangerously seductive, but funny wasn’t one of them!

‘I didn’t mean it like that!’ she exclaimed, horrified to have him lump her together with an unpleasant, ignorant minority she had nothing whatever in common with. ‘Anyhow, it’s an absurd generalisation, and I was not being patronising.’ Why am I making such a fuss? she wondered eyeing the good-looking cause of her discomfort resentfully. His good opinion is not something I’m going to lie awake at nights thinking about—now his mouth, that was another matter, her wilful thoughts added naughtily.

‘You look feverish.’

Kate stiffened as a cool hand touched her perspiring forehead—she could hardly explain the likely reason for her sweaty state. The hand lifted and she sighed.

‘I’m prepared to give the benefit of the doubt,’ he announced abruptly. Their eyes met and something indefinable passed between them that made Kate’s breathing quicken perceptibly. ‘Actually, I went to school in England,’ he added casually.

Kate frowned. ‘Boarding school?’ That suggested a privileged background, as did his autocratic manner. Had he chosen crime out of choice or had circumstances forced him down that road? It seemed a wicked shame that someone she sensed had so much potential should waste his talents.

‘Do I detect a hint of disapproval?’

The edge of indulgent amusement in his voice made Kate bristle. ‘Well, if I had children I wouldn’t ship them away…’ She encountered the interested glint in his eyes and bit her lip. Like he’s really interested in what you’d do with your children, Kate… A sane person didn’t enter into a debate on private versus state education with her abductor.

‘It didn’t do me any harm.’

Kate couldn’t stop herself snorting derisively when he wheeled out the tired old line.

‘In fact…’

‘It got you where you are today—which I’d say was looking at a kidnapping charge, at the very least.’

‘Does that mean if I let you go you’ll run straight to the police?’

Kate’s face fell as she realised her smart tongue had got her into even more trouble. ‘I’m in no position to go to the police without incriminating myself.’ She waited, fingers crossed, for his response.

‘You being such a hardened criminal…’

Kate unable to interpret the odd inflection in his tone frowned. ‘Not hardened, exactly… You went to school in England—does that mean you’re not Spanish?’

‘A man could be forgiven for thinking you’re trying to change the subject.’

‘I’m curious, that’s all…’

‘About my ancestry?’

‘About your eyes…’ She cleared her throat and blushed hotly as the dangerous glint in his eyes intensified. ‘I just happened to notice they’re blue,’ she explained carelessly. ‘It’s unusual for someone with your colouring,’ she added defensively.

‘Yes, it is. I have a Scottish grandmother.’

‘It’s never too late, you know…’ she heard herself blurt out suddenly.

Much to her dismay, he eased himself farther onto the bed and folded his arms comfortably across his chest. Kate had his full, undivided attention and she didn’t want it!

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