Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author

ANNE MATHER

Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the publishing industry, having written over one hundred and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.

This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful, passionate writing has given.

We are sure you will love them all!

I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.

I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.

These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.

We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is mystic-am@msn.com and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

All Night Long
Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

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

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE man was watching her.

Ally shifted a little uncomfortably on her stool at the bar and transferred her attention to the tall glass in front of her. Despite the fact that she had come down to the bar with the avowed intention of flirting with the first attractive man she saw, the reality was proving rather more daunting than she had anticipated. Besides, although she was almost sure he was watching her, he could be staring at something over her shoulder. Young men like him did not usually waste their time with middle-aged divorcees, particularly when the divorcee in question looked considerably the worse for wear.

Ally heaved a deep sigh and permitted herself another surreptitious glance in his direction. This time she caught his eye and she could feel the heat surge into her cheeks as she quickly looked away.

Dear God, she thought, picking up her glass and taking a reinforcing gulp of her vodka and tonic. He was watching her. But why? Surely he couldn’t think she was a wealthy tourist, not with her cheap jewellery and chain store clothes.

She took a steadying breath. The trouble was, she wasn’t used to this. It was twenty years since she’d been an active member of the singles scene and she had no idea how to cope with such an obvious appraisal. All right, she’d been fairly satisfied with her appearance when she’d looked in the mirror of the hotel room vanity unit upstairs, but she didn’t kid herself that her brown hair—which had been decently cut and styled and streaked with blond highlights—or her decidedly unmodel-like figure were the stuff of any man’s erotic dream. She was—or rather, she had been—a wife and mother for too many years to start regarding herself as an attractive single woman again.

But that was why she was here, she reminded herself. Why she was spending the night at this luxurious hotel at Heathrow Airport before boarding the morning flight to Nassau and from there to the tiny island of San Cristobál. This holiday was intended to be her opportunity to escape—at least for a few weeks—from the pain and humiliation of the past year. And if, by going to stay with Suzanne, she was falling short of making a complete break from everything and everyone she knew, she was doing something she had never done before.

So why was she behaving so coyly, just because some man—some strange man—was showing interest in her? It wasn’t as if she was likely to see him again after tonight. And, besides, he was far too young for her. If he was watching her, it was probably just curiosity. She looked so out of place here; he was no doubt wondering what she was doing out alone.

‘Is this yours?’

She started at the voice. Despite her awareness of the man at the other end of the bar, she’d been completely wrapped in her thoughts, and the low appealing enquiry came as a total surprise to her.

It was him. As she’d been absorbed in finding reasons why he wouldn’t be interested in her, he’d left his stool and was now propped against the bar beside her, her black clutch bag in his hand.

‘Oh—’ How had he taken possession of her handbag without her being aware of it? ‘I—yes. Yes, it’s mine.’ She fairly snatched the bag from his outstretched fingers. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’ His voice had a faintly mocking tone as if he found her rather ungracious acceptance of his kindness amusing. ‘It was on the floor.’

‘Was it?’ Too late. Ally remembered her elbow brushing something as she’d swung round in her seat. ‘Well, I’m very grateful. I’d hate to have lost it.’

Which was so true. Her traveller’s cheques, her passport, and her air tickets were all in the bag. She’d been too nervous to leave them locked in her suitcase in her room.

‘Accidents happen,’ he responded lightly, his dark eyes appraising her with discomforting intensity. ‘Are you waiting for your husband?’

Her husband?

Ally somehow suppressed the desire to laugh. It would have been slightly hysterical laughter, she thought bitterly, and she had no desire to show herself up in front of such a disturbing—and she sensed sophisticated—individual.

So, ‘No,’ she replied, with what she hoped was cool assurance. ‘I’m not waiting for my husband.’

‘Then can I buy you a drink?’ he asked, nodding towards her almost empty glass. ‘Vodka, isn’t it?’

Ally’s jaw was in danger of dropping and she hastily pressed her lips together. ‘I—why—well, that’s very kind of you, but—’

‘But you don’t know me from Adam,’ he suggested softly, easing his hip onto the stool beside hers. ‘Well, that’s easily remedied. My name’s Raul. What’s yours?’

Ally hesitated. Raul, she thought, liking the sound of it. But, just Raul. Not Raul whatever-his-surname-was. It seemed that he had no more desire to betray his identity than she did, and while that should please her, it didn’t.

‘Um—I’m Diana,’ she said, choosing a name at random. ‘Diana—Morrison.’

‘Hello, Diana.’ His thin lips curled into an engaging smile. ‘So—can I buy you a drink, Diana?’

Ally swallowed her disappointment that he hadn’t chosen to be any more forthcoming, and cautiously inclined her head. ‘Why not?’ she said steadily. ‘Thank you.’

He summoned the bartender with considerably less effort than she’d needed earlier and ordered her another vodka and tonic and himself Scotch over ice. Listening to him order the drinks, Ally wondered if he was an American, but although his accent wasn’t wholly familiar, she sensed it wasn’t a transatlantic drawl.

But it was an attractive accent, she conceded. Just as he was one of the most attractive men she had seen in her life. He was very dark-skinned, with lean, tanned features that had a faintly aquiline severity. But his mouth was far from severe. It had a decidedly humorous twist to the sensual lower lip, and his very dark hair made her wonder if he had any southern European blood in his veins.

She felt a slightly incredulous twinge that he should actually be buying her a drink. In her experience, men seldom came on to her, and just because her dress had a rather more daring neckline than usual, and she’d had her hair professionally styled, it did not mean she was any less the ugly duckling. There had to be some other reason why he was showing an interest in her, and she couldn’t help worrying that she might not be experienced enough to cope with it, whatever it was.

What did she know of men, after all? Precious little, she acknowledged ruefully. She’d married Jeff soon after leaving school and for eighteen years after that she’d been too busy juggling the tasks of supporting him though his university days and raising the twins to pay much attention to anything else.

‘There you go.’

The barman had returned with their drinks and Raul, if that really was his name, was pushing her glass towards her. Perhaps with a couple more of these inside her she’d feel a little less anxious, she thought hopefully, obediently raising her glass to her lips and forcing herself not to drop her gaze when he caught her eyes across the rim of his glass.

But it didn’t last.

‘I guess it’s okay.’

His lazy comment made her realise that she’d swallowed at least a third of the drink in one gulp and she hurriedly replaced it on the bar. ‘I wasn’t thinking,’ she said foolishly, her nervous fingers toying with the edge of her coaster. She concentrated on setting the glass more centrally on the small mat. ‘It’s very nice.’

‘Good.’ He set his own glass down and she was supremely aware of his dark gaze assessing her averted face. Then, his breath fanning her hot cheek, ‘Do I make you nervous?’

Ally sucked in a breath. ‘Why should you think that?’ she demanded, indignation giving her voice more confidence, and he sighed.

‘I suppose because I get the impression that you’re not used to—well, to this.’

‘Picking up men in bars, do you mean?’ she asked, controlling the instinct to confirm his suspicions and walk out of the bar with some difficulty. ‘No, I’m not. Are you?’

‘Used to picking up men in bars?’ he echoed mildly. ‘Hardly.’

‘You know what I meant,’ she accused him hotly. ‘Now you’re making fun of me.’

‘No, I’m not.’ And then, seeing her disbelief, ‘Well, possibly. Just a little.’ His smile was rueful as he picked up his drink. ‘I’m just trying to get you to relax, that’s all.’

‘By asking me if I’m nervous?’ Ally was scornful. ‘I’m self-conscious enough as it is without you making me feel worse.’

The cuff of his blouson jacket brushed sensuously against her bare arm as he set his glass down again. It was made of soft leather, fine and expensive, and she couldn’t prevent a shiver from sliding down her spine at the involuntary touch. It was black, like his hair, and beneath its folds a black tee shirt outlined the taut muscles of his flat stomach.

Ally caught her breath. Jeff would never have dreamt of wearing anything so casual in the evening, she reflected. A dark suit—latterly he’d been buying himself Armani, only Ally hadn’t been aware of it until— She discarded that thought before it could hurt her and moved on. A blazer, a sports coat—Harris tweed for preference—those were the things she was used to. But Raul looked as elegant in black jeans as Jeff had ever looked in his designer gear. But then Raul’s clothes were obviously designer-made, too…

‘Tell me why you’re self-conscious,’ he said, distracting her from her covert appraisal of his appearance. ‘You have nothing to be self-conscious about.’

‘No?’ Ally stifled the snort that rose into her throat. ‘Well, as you so succinctly remarked earlier, I’m not used to this—this scene.’

‘What scene?’

‘This scene.’ Ally permitted herself to look at him for a moment and then expanded her gaze to include the whole room. ‘Women sitting in bars on their own, accepting drinks from total strangers.’

‘We’re not total strangers.’ He kept a perfectly straight face but she was sure he was laughing at her. ‘We’ve been introduced.’

‘We introduced ourselves,’ Ally amended wryly. ‘That’s not the same thing at all.’

‘Okay.’ He conceded her point. ‘But it’s moot now, anyway. You can hardly pretend we don’t know one another when you’ve just swallowed half the drink I paid for.’

Ally’s lips parted. ‘Are you implying I can’t buy my own drinks?’

‘Of course not.’ He was evidently growing weary of her argument. ‘Look, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, right? I didn’t mean to. I just wanted us to get to know one another better, and I foolishly thought that teasing you might do it.’ He held up his hands, palm outward. ‘Obviously, I was wrong.’

Now Ally felt sorry. She hadn’t wanted to offend him, and it wasn’t his fault that she was out of date when it came to dealing with the opposite sex. If anyone was to blame, she was. She had allowed Jeff to control her life for so long that she’d forgotten how to have fun.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, half surprised that he hadn’t moved away to try his luck with someone else. There was certainly no shortage of younger—and apparently unattached—women in the bar, and from the looks she’d been getting, Ally guessed they were speculating about why a man like Raul should have hooked himself up with her. ‘I guess I’m too old for this.’

His dark eyes narrowed on her face. ‘You’re not old,’ he argued. Then, his lips twitching at her tongue-in-cheek expression, ‘I mean it. You can’t be more than what? Thirty-two, thirty-three? That is not old, believe me.’

Ally gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘If that’s a sneaky way of getting me to tell you how old I am, you needn’t have bothered. I’m not ashamed of my age. I’m thirty-eight; almost thirty-nine, in fact. Comfortably middle-aged.’

He shook his head. ‘Why do you persist in putting yourself down?’ he exclaimed. ‘I wasn’t exaggerating. You don’t look your age, however much you might like to believe you do.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’ Raul regarded her with a disturbingly sensual gaze. ‘Who told you you were—what was it you said?—comfortably middle-aged? Some man?’

‘Isn’t it always?’ Ally was sardonic. Then, because that was one thing she couldn’t blame Jeff for, she added, ‘No, actually, it was Sam. My daughter. I think she thought it was a compliment.’

‘You have a daughter?’ He was polite, but wary, she thought, and she wondered if he was speculating about her husband. ‘Well, children can be very—very—’

‘Honest?’

‘No.’ His smile returned. ‘I was going to say cruel. And short-sighted. They see what they want to see. How old is—Sam?’

Too late, Ally realised she had told him Sam’s real name. ‘She’s twenty,’ she admitted, with some reluctance. And then, because anything she told him was unlikely to go any further, she added. ‘She’s getting married next year. I think she wants to make me a grandmother.’ Her expression grew unknowingly wistful. ‘I suppose she assumes I’ve got nothing else to look forward to.’

Raul shook his head. ‘That’s some opinion you’ve got of yourself, isn’t it?’ He paused before continuing, ‘Does your husband agree with her?’

Ally’s lips tightened. ‘Her father and I are divorced.’

‘Ah.’

His response was typical and Ally felt a sudden resurgence of the determination that had got her to buy her ticket to San Cristobál in the first place. ‘What do you mean—ah?’ she demanded hotly. ‘Does the fact that I’m divorced explain everything? Is that what you’re thinking? A woman scorned and all that guff? Well, let me tell you, I’m glad to be out of that relationship.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do say so.’ Ally resented having to defend herself to him. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me—’

‘Wait!’ As she would have slid off her stool, his lean brown fingers closed about her wrist, and her heart pounded wildly through her veins. ‘Don’t go,’ he pleaded, his dark eyes warm and appealing. ‘If I’ve offended you, I’m sorry. That was not my intention.’

‘Which begs the question, what was your intention in approaching me?’ retorted Ally tersely. And then, becoming aware that their heated exchange was attracting the attention of other people around them, she lowered her tone. ‘Please let me go. I have a table booked in the restaurant.’

Raul sighed. ‘So do I.’

Ally was not impressed. ‘So?’

Raul’s thumb pressed insistently against the network of veins that marked the inner side of her wrist. ‘We could have dinner together—’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Why not?’ Despite her obvious opposition, he held on to her arm. ‘We’re both on our own, aren’t we? Why shouldn’t we share a table?’

‘It doesn’t occur to you that I might not want to, does it?’ she exclaimed. ‘And why should you be so certain that I’m on my own? I could be with—with someone else. Just because I’m divorced—’

‘Are you?’

‘I told you I was.’

‘No, I mean, are you with someone?’ he asked softly, and, meeting his disturbing eyes, Ally felt her resistance falter.

‘I—could be.’

He conceded the point. ‘But are you?’

Ally’s breath came out with a resigned gulp. ‘No.’

‘So?’ His thumb softened on her wrist, finding her pulse and massaging its erratic beat with gentle insistence. ‘Will you let me buy you dinner?’

Ally shook her head. ‘I don’t know why you should want to.’

His lips twisted. ‘Put it down to my idiosyncrasy,’ he said drily. ‘Shall we go?’

CHAPTER TWO

THE restaurant was busy and the head waiter was more than happy to free up one of his smaller tables by seating them together. The table he gave them was against the far wall, with a trellis of ornamental greenery giving an added touch of privacy. Ally wasn’t at all sure she appreciated being made to feel as if they were indulging in some kind of squalid assignation, and although she allowed herself to be seated, she couldn’t help glancing about her, sure that their unlikely liaison must be the cynosure of all eyes.

But nobody seemed interested in them. The other diners were too busy getting on with their own lives to pay any attention to the two people who were sharing the table that was half hidden by the trellis. Forcing herself to calm down, she smoothed her moist palms over the skirt of her dress.

‘Stop looking as if you’d rather be any place than here,’ said Raul mildly, after the waiter had placed two folded menus on the table. ‘You’re beginning to give me a complex.’

Ally pulled a wry face. ‘Oh, right.’

‘I mean it.’ His eyes were amused. ‘I have to tell you, I don’t usually have to force the women I’m attracted to to endure my company.’

Ally’s mouth dried at the unexpected compliment, but she chose not to acknowledge it. ‘I bet you don’t,’ she said, wishing she could be a little more spontaneous. ‘Um—I’ve never been here before.’

‘Where? The airport, or this restaurant?’

‘This restaurant,’ she clarified. ‘I have flown out of Heathrow before. We—that is—’ She had been about to mention Jeff and she bit her careless tongue with impatience. ‘As a family,’ she amended. ‘We’ve been to the Greek Islands and to Florida.’

‘Disneyworld?’ he suggested and she smiled.

‘Yes. Sam and Ryan loved it.’

He frowned. ‘Ryan? That would be your—?’

‘My son,’ put in Ally quickly. ‘Sam and Ryan are twins.’

‘I see.’ He paused. ‘So you have two children?’

‘That’s right.’ Ally caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘So now you know all about me.’

‘Hardly,’ he murmured, but she couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking and whether the knowledge that she had two children somehow diminished her attraction in his eyes.

Which was ridiculous, she chided herself swiftly. No matter what he’d said, she didn’t believe he really was attracted to her. He just found her a novelty, that was all. Perhaps this was just his evening to be kind to dogs and fortyish matrons.

The arrival of the wine waiter to ask if they’d like anything to drink gave her a few moments to collect her thoughts, and after he’d departed to get the bottle of wine Raul had ordered, there was the menu to study.

It was difficult to decide what to eat. Despite the fact that the pounds had dropped off her in the last couple of years, she was still acutely conscious of being overweight. In recent weeks her appetite had been practically non-existent and she’d only eaten at all to satisfy Sam’s concern about her. In consequence, her eyes were drawn to the vegetarian dishes, and after some consideration she chose asparagus soup and stuffed avocado with Hollandaise sauce.

‘Are you a vegetarian?’ Raul asked curiously when she was forced to tell him her selection and Ally managed a rueful smile.

‘No.’

‘But you prefer vegetarian food?’

Ally sighed. ‘I’m just not very hungry,’ she murmured, putting the menu aside. ‘What are you having?’

Raul shrugged. ‘Something simple, I guess. Salad followed by a steak sounds good to me.’

Actually, it sounded good to Ally, too, but the thought of all those calories gave her pause. Besides, there was no guarantee that she’d be able to eat anything. She was so nervous about being here in the first place.

The wine was brought, and their individual meals were ordered, and Ally did her best to relax. It was definitely easier with a glass of Chardonnay in her hand, and she decided it was time he answered a few questions for a change.

‘You don’t live in England, do you?’ she ventured, rather daringly, and his long lashes shaded his eyes.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Well…’ She could hardly mention his tan. That was too personal. ‘Your accent,’ she exclaimed, with some relief. ‘It doesn’t sound wholly British to me.’

His teeth were very white against his dark skin. ‘You wound me,’ he murmured, but his smile revealed he was only teasing her. ‘I thought I spoke very good English.’

‘You do.’ She hurried to reassure him. ‘Just sometimes—’ She broke off, losing her nerve. ‘I’m sorry. It’s nothing to do with me.’

‘Why not?’ His eyes on her mouth brought a return of the panic she had felt earlier. ‘I don’t mind telling you. My home is almost in the Caribbean and both my father and mother are of Spanish-American descent.’

‘Oh.’ Ally took a nervous sip of her wine, and then added rather recklessly, ‘I’m going to the Caribbean, too. Tomorrow. Well, to Nassau, anyway. I suppose that’s not strictly the Caribbean either, is it?’

‘Not strictly,’ he conceded. ‘But near enough.’ He paused. ‘Are you going on holiday?’

Ally pressed her lips together, wishing she hadn’t been quite so outspoken. But it was too late now, so— ‘Yes,’ she admitted unwillingly. And then, because she felt the need to explain that she wasn’t one of those sad people who holiday alone, ‘I’m going to stay with friends.’

‘In Nassau?’

No, San Cristobál.

But Ally didn’t contradict him. ‘Yes, Nassau,’ she lied, looking down into her glass as she spoke in case her eyes betrayed her. ‘Have you been there?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ He was laconic. ‘I’ve been there. I’ve been all over the Caribbean. My—that is, the company I work for charters sailing craft to travel firms and private individuals. I used to spend holidays crewing on sloops and schooners.’

Ally was intrigued. ‘It sounds fun.’

‘It was.’ He nodded. ‘Hard work, too, particularly if we ran into bad weather.’

‘Hurricanes, you mean?’ Ally’s eyes were wide.

‘Hardly.’ His lips twitched. ‘You don’t try to outrun a hurricane. But, if the barometer’s falling, and you’ve got a party of inexperienced tourists on board, you make for the nearest landfall.’

‘I see.’ Ally felt foolish.

‘That’s not to say we didn’t encounter a squall from time to time,’ he assured her gently. ‘It rains, you know, even in the Caribbean.’

Ally managed a small smile. ‘Not a lot, I hope.’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘And not usually at this time of year. I guess you’ll be glad to leave the cold weather behind.’

‘Mmm.’ Ally relaxed again, the anticipation of spending the rest of January and most of February in a warmer climate bringing its own excitement. ‘I’ve never been to the Caribbean before.’

‘You’ll love it,’ he told her, as the waiter arrived with their first course. ‘Plenty of sunshine, warm seas, and some of the best seafood in the world.’

Ally smiled, picking up her spoon to tackle her soup. ‘No place for a vegetarian, then?’ she murmured drily.

‘No.’ His eyes showed his amusement. ‘Do you think I’m biased?’

‘Why wouldn’t you be?’

‘Yeah.’ He forked up a mouthful of his green salad. ‘I have to admit, I’d hate to live anywhere else.’

Ally licked her lips. ‘Have you been on holiday in England?’ she asked, amazed at the ease with which the words slipped off her tongue. But, what the hell? she thought determinedly. She was never likely to see him again, and he was so easy to talk to.

‘Actually, I’ve been in London on business,’ he replied, evidently not offended by her question. ‘I came to visit the Boat Show at Earl’s Court. Do you know it?’

‘Well, I know Earl’s Court,’ said Ally, crumbling the roll the waiter had left on her plate. ‘But I’ve never been to the Boat Show. I don’t live in London, you see. I live in the north of England. That’s why I’m spending the night here. It would have been too much of a gamble to risk connecting with my flight in the morning.’

‘Ah.’ He gave an understanding nod. ‘So your holiday’s begun a day early.’

‘You could say that.’ Ally realised she had finished her soup and felt a moment’s surprise. Talking to Raul, she had completely forgotten the problems she’d been having with eating and she half wished she’d taken a chance and ordered a steak, after all. She replaced her spoon and took a mouthful of her wine before continuing. ‘That was lovely.’

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

‘Oh, I did.’ Ally propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her linked hands. Then, feeling quite expansive, she added, ‘As a matter of fact, I haven’t had much of an appetite lately. Not since—not since—well, all the fuss.’

Raul regarded her thoughtfully. ‘The divorce?’ he ventured softly, and she found herself nodding her agreement.

‘It was so—ugly,’ she said, with a shudder, hardly aware that the amount she had drunk was loosening her tongue. ‘We had to sell the house, move into a much smaller semi. And because Sam and Ryan are at college, I’ve had to do most of the organising on my own.’

‘Tough.’ Raul was sympathetic. ‘Why couldn’t your—ex-husband lend a hand?’

‘Jeff?’ Ally grimaced. ‘He wasn’t there. He left for Canada before the decree nisi. He’s always wanted to travel, and if—when—he marries Kelly he’ll probably apply for a Canadian passport.’

Raul frowned. ‘What does your husband do?’

‘Do? As in, for a living?’ She pulled a face. ‘He’s a biology teacher.’

‘Biology?’

Raul grinned and suddenly Ally was grinning, too. ‘Yes. Ironic, isn’t it?’ She stifled a laugh. ‘You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.’

‘So this woman you mentioned, she’s a teacher, too?’

‘Mmm.’ Ally bent her head, aware that she was being far too familiar, and tried to tone the conversation down. ‘She—er—she came to Jeff’s school on one of those exchange schemes. According to him it was love at first sight.’

‘You don’t believe it?’

‘Oh, no.’ Ally looked up, her eyes widening. ‘I believe it. She’s one of those petite blondes that all men seem to find irresistible. Well, men of a certain age anyway.’

‘I don’t,’ said Raul at once, and Ally gave him a retiring look.

‘You’re not as old as Jeff,’ she said. ‘Give it time.’

‘I don’t need to.’ Raul studied her face with disturbing intensity. ‘I wouldn’t leave you for a bleached blonde.’

Ally dimpled. ‘How do you know she was a bleached blonde?’

‘Aren’t they always?’ Raul waited until the waiter had removed their plates before continuing, ‘Desperate women, who can’t get a man of their own so they resort to stealing someone else’s.’

‘I don’t think Jeff put up much opposition,’ said Ally wryly, and Raul shrugged.

‘More fool him.’

She giggled then. ‘You’re awfully good for my ego, do you know that?’

‘I aim to please.’

‘Yes, you do, don’t you?’ The colour in her cheeks deepened becomingly. ‘I wonder why?’

Now it was Raul’s turn to pull a face. ‘That sounds suspiciously like a criticism,’ he remarked drily. ‘Has no one told you what an attractive woman you are?’

‘Not recently, no,’ Ally admitted. ‘Who are you? Some kind of guardian angel employed to comfort lonely women?’

‘My name’s Raul, not Gabriel,’ he retorted, refilling her wine glass. ‘Believe it or not, this is the first time I’ve invited a woman I’d never met before to have dinner with me. I know you think I’m stringing you a line, but I’m not. I genuinely am enjoying myself.’

‘So’m I.’ Ally looked down into her glass, amazed at her own audacity. ‘I’m glad you asked me to have dinner with you.’

‘Yeah. Me, too,’ he conceded, touching his glass to hers. ‘Here’s to us.’

‘To us,’ she repeated obediently, wishing they had longer than tonight to get to know one another better, and was aware of him watching her as she sipped her wine.

The main course was just as delicious as the first, although in all honesty Ally was hardly aware of what she was eating. Afterwards, all she remembered was that Raul had offered her a taste of his steak, and the intimacy of sharing his food had extinguished everything else.

She also knew she had never been as relaxed with a man in her life. Not even Jeff, who had usually dominated their conversations with his work, his problems. Looking back, she was forced to acknowledge that although she had always thought they had a good marriage, it had hardly been a partnership in the real sense of the word. For years, she’d let Jeff make all the decisions and, because she’d seldom objected, he’d begun to believe that she didn’t have an opinion of her own.

Still, she could hardly blame him for that…

She declined a dessert and, instead of staying at the table, they went to have their coffee in the adjoining lounge. They were shown to a table in the shade of a palm. There were two comfortable armchairs and a low sofa set around the table and Ally chose the sofa, expecting Raul to take one of the armchairs opposite.

But he didn’t.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ he asked, when his thigh brushed against hers as he seated himself beside her. She managed to get, ‘Not at all,’ past the sudden constriction in her throat. She was intensely aware of his closeness, however, and of the fact that his weight depressed the cushion beneath her hip.

‘I suppose you’re staying at the hotel, too,’ she said quickly, to distract herself from the powerful length of his legs that he was forced to fold beneath the table, and Raul waited until the waiter had served their coffee before replying.

‘Fourth floor,’ he told her easily. ‘How about you?’

‘Oh, I’m staying here—’

‘I know that.’ The look he gave her assured her that he hadn’t been deceived by her attempt at subterfuge. ‘Which floor?’

‘I—the first, I think.’

‘Don’t you know?’

Of course she did. And it wasn’t the first.

Pretending to be indignant, she exclaimed, ‘Naturally I know which floor my room’s on.’

Raul’s eyes were far too discerning. ‘I happen to know the first floor is given over to offices and conference suites,’ he remarked levelly. ‘If you don’t want to tell me where your room is, okay. You don’t have to lie about it, Diana.’

Diana!

Ally felt awful. ‘I—my name’s not Diana,’ she admitted weakly. ‘It’s Ally. Ally Sloan.’

‘No kidding?’

He didn’t sound surprised and she looked at him a little warily. ‘You knew?’

‘Well, if you were prepared to lie about which floor your room was on—’

‘I wasn’t lying, exactly.’

‘No.’ He was sceptical. ‘Don’t tell me, they’re accommodating you in one of the banqueting halls?’

‘You don’t have to be sarcastic,’ she said, hurt by his tone. ‘If I were better at this I wouldn’t have chosen that floor in the first place.’

‘Why would you want to be better at lying to people?’ he demanded in a low disturbing voice. ‘Have I given you any reason to be suspicious of me?’

‘No.’ Ally’s tongue circled her lips in innocent provocation. ‘But I didn’t know that when you spoke to me in the bar.’

Raul’s eyes darkened. ‘And you feel you know me better now?’

Ally swallowed. ‘Well—yes.’

His smile troubled her, but before she had had a chance to wonder what it meant, his hand covering hers in her lap drove all other thoughts out of her head. ‘I’m glad,’ he said, and she was supremely conscious of his knuckles digging into her thigh, causing a wave of heat to dart upwards into her groin. ‘You don’t have to be afraid of me.’

‘I’m not.’

The words came out automatically but she wasn’t at all sure she believed them. Something was warning her that he hadn’t been completely honest with her either, and while it was easy to put it down to her own over-active imagination, she still found his attention hard to justify. She simply wasn’t the type to attract a man like him—a man as young as him—and she wasn’t sure how he expected her to proceed.

But he was attractive, and the hand holding hers in her lap was strong and masculine. It reminded her that it had been too long since she’d had a man’s hands on her body, and she wondered what he would say if she confessed that she’d only ever been to bed with one man in her entire life. She was hopelessly naïve when it came to the way men and women conducted themselves today, and although Sam had done her best to educate her, she’d never expect her mother to find herself in a situation like this.

However, thinking about Sam made her realise how shocked her daughter would be if she could see her now. It was one thing for Sam to expound the sexual advantages women enjoyed today and quite another for her to face the fact that her mother was still a comparatively young woman and might be sexually attracted to some other man. Sam was disgusted with her father’s behaviour but that didn’t mean she’d forgive her mother’s transgressions, even if the circumstances were totally different now.

Tugging her fingers out of Raul’s grasp, Ally took refuge in her coffee, almost spilling it when he squeezed her thigh. As he did so, all the bones in her limbs turned to water and a pulse she’d hardly been aware of before beat insistently between her legs. Dear God, she thought, did he know what he was doing to her; had he guessed how emotionally starved she was?

‘Would you like another drink?’

To her relief, he removed his hand from her thigh and contented himself with turning sideways to face her. His knee nudged her leg and she had to steel herself not to move away. But perhaps another drink wasn’t a bad idea, she thought breathlessly. It might help to calm the nerves jumping in her stomach.

‘Why not?’ she said, promising herself she’d have one more drink and then say goodnight. She wanted to be up bright and early in the morning. After all the effort Suzanne had made, the least she could do was not to miss the plane.

Raul summoned the waiter and ordered himself a Scotch over ice and Ally another vodka and tonic. Even the drink she’d chosen was a cliché, she thought impatiently. Why couldn’t she have ordered a champagne cocktail or a spritzer?

She noticed that Raul had put one arm along the back of the sofa now and she wished she had the nerve to sit back in her seat and see what he would do. As it was, she was perched on the edge of the cushions, her knees pressed tightly together.

The waiter returned with their drinks and Ally picked up her glass and took a reassuring gulp. But she had the feeling it would take more than another drink to make her relax. She was far too tense for relaxation; far too aware of him and the temptation he evinced.

‘So what made you decide to go to the Bahamas?’ he asked, lifting his own drink to his lips.

‘Oh—you know.’ Ally shrugged, collecting her thoughts. ‘Sam thought it would be a good idea for me to have a holiday.’

‘Your daughter?’

‘Mmm.’ She smiled. ‘Like I said, she feels she has to look after me.’

‘I’m not surprised.’ Raul regarded her gently. ‘You have that effect on people.’

‘Oh, I don’t think—’

‘I mean it.’ To her consternation, she felt the brush of his fingers against her nape. ‘You’re very appealing, Ally. It’s quite a novelty to meet a woman who is so lacking in self-conceit.’

Ally blushed. She couldn’t help it. ‘You’re just trying to embarrass me now,’ she accused him uncomfortably. She picked up her glass again. ‘When I’ve had this, I’m going to have to say goodnight.’

Raul glanced at the narrow gold watch on his wrist. ‘It’s early yet,’ he protested.

‘For you, maybe.’ Ally caught herself before she admitted that she was usually in bed by half-past ten these days. She glanced behind her. ‘I just want to speak to the waiter first.’

‘The waiter?’

‘In the restaurant,’ Ally explained. Then, with a certain amount of reticence, ‘I want to ask him to add the cost of my dinner to my room bill, that’s all.’ She looked round again. ‘I wonder where he is?’

‘It’s dealt with.’ Raul took a deep breath as Ally turned confused eyes in his direction. ‘I signed the bill before we left the restaurant.’

‘Oh, but—’

‘I hope you’re not going to embarrass me by refusing to let me buy your dinner,’ he said mildly. ‘It was my pleasure. As I said before, this has been a very pleasant evening.’

‘For me, too,’ said Ally impulsively, and he tugged on a strand of her hair.

‘Then perhaps you’ll allow me to escort you to your room?’ he suggested, causing her stomach to plunge uncertainly. He grinned. ‘I’m sure Sam would approve.’

Ally was equally sure that Sam wouldn’t, but she could hardly say that. Not when he had been kind enough to pay for her drinks and her dinner, and for the wine she had consumed so freely throughout the meal. So, ‘All right,’ she agreed, a little breathily, and forced herself not to flinch when he put a hand in the small of her back as he guided her out of the lounge a few minutes later.

CHAPTER THREE

IT HAD been a dull overcast morning when they’d left London but Nassau was basking in the heat of the afternoon sun. Ally estimated that the temperature outside the airport buildings was hovering somewhere close to ninety. Heat shimmered above the tarmac of the runways and the breeze that stirred the flags hanging limply from their poles was barely enough to temper the humidity that drifted into the Arrivals Hall.

She and her fellow passengers were waiting for their luggage to be unloaded onto the carousels, and, exchanging a rueful smile with a young mother who was trying to appease two fretful children, Ally tried to rekindle the optimism she’d felt when she’d left Newcastle the afternoon before. She was almost there, she thought determinedly. According to Suzanne, it was just a short flight from New Providence to San Cristobál, where her friend and her husband ran a small hotel. Suzanne had said someone would meet her here at the airport and escort her to the small plane that would take her on the final leg of her journey, and, apart from her own foolish feelings, everything was going according to plan.

Only it wasn’t, Ally reflected unhappily. Nothing had gone according to plan since she’d allowed Raul—if that really was his name—to pick her up in the hotel bar the night before. Ever since then everything had gone anything but according to plan and she was having a hard time fighting the suspicion that perhaps this holiday wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

Which was defeatist, perhaps, but it was how she felt. Last night she’d done something totally reckless, totally irresponsible, and all she’d really wanted to do this morning was get on the train again and go home. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could do what she’d done and not get a conscience about it. She’d acted completely out of character, and she dreaded to think how her daughter would feel if she ever found out.

Of course, there was no reason why Sam should find out, she assured herself. No matter how much she’d wanted to do it, she hadn’t cashed in her air ticket or cancelled her trip, and surely by the time she got back she’d have forgotten all about last night. She doubted if Suzanne would blame her, if she confided in her, but then Suzanne was a woman of the world whereas, for all her modern outlook, Sam could be incredibly old-fashioned when it came to the people she loved.

‘Mrs Sloan?’

The voice came from behind her and when she turned Ally found a man in a short-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts gazing cheerfully at her. He was very tanned, with a fan of creases at each side of his blue eyes that seemed to indicate he spent a lot of time outdoors. Grey-blond hair escaped untidily from the sides of the baseball cap he was wearing back to front and his smile revealed white, but slightly crooked, teeth.

‘Yes, I’m Mrs Sloan,’ she said, and he nodded.

‘I thought you must be.’ His grin deepened. ‘Suze said to look out for a tall good-looking woman and she wasn’t wrong.’ He pulled off his cap and held out his hand. ‘Mike Mclean at your service, Mrs Sloan. I’m here to fly you over to Saint Chris.’

‘Saint Chris?’

Ally arched an enquiring brow and he gestured towards the carousel. ‘San Cristobál,’ he explained. ‘D’you want to point out your bags and we’ll be on our way?’

‘My bags?’ Ally turned back to the conveyor belt that was now moving. ‘Oh—yes.’ She shook her head a little dazedly. ‘I thought—that is, I assumed that whoever Suzanne had sent would be waiting outside.’

‘In this heat?’ Mclean grimaced. ‘No. So long as we go through Customs together no one objects.’ He saw her move forward. ‘That’s one of them?’

In a short while, Mclean had the sports holdall she had borrowed from Ryan and her own suitcase on a luggage trolley and was propelling them towards the exit. Although he wasn’t a particularly tall man, he was obviously strong and capable, and Ally felt no qualms about putting herself into his hands. Indeed, it was a relief to be free of the responsibility for getting to her destination, and she fanned herself a little weakly when they emerged into the sunlight.

‘It’s this way,’ he said, directing her along the walkway that led towards the commuter terminal. ‘Did you have a good journey?’

‘Um—fairly good.’ Ally was loath to tell him that she’d slept most of the way. But she’d been exhausted and, after lunch had been served, she’d flaked out.

‘Marvellous things, these big jets,’ commented Mclean amiably. ‘Makes my little Piper look like a kid’s toy.’ He grinned again. ‘I guess you’d know about kids. Suze tells me you’ve got two of your own.’

‘They’re hardly kids,’ murmured Ally. She paused. ‘Do you have children, Mr Mclean?’

‘The name’s Mike,’ he said at once. ‘And, no. I’m afraid I’ve never had that pleasure. I’m what Suze calls a crusty old bachelor. More’s the pity.’

Ally smiled. ‘Hardly crusty,’ she said. ‘And please call me Ally. Mrs Sloan makes me sound like my mother-in-law. My ex-mother-in-law, I mean,’ she added hastily. ‘I’m divorced.’

‘Yeah. Suze told me that, too,’ he admitted, his tone sympathetic. Then, ‘But you’ve done the right thing coming out here. Smuggler’s Cove is a beautiful spot.’

‘Is it?’ Smuggler’s Cove was where Suzanne and her husband, Peter Davis, had their hotel. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing it. To seeing the whole island,’ she appended. ‘Is it very big?’

‘Nah. About eight miles long and five across at best.’ He saw she was flagging and waited for her to catch up. ‘Of course, Suze will have told you that the Ramirezes own most of the island, but what’s left is pretty damn spectacular, I can tell you.’

Ally frowned. ‘Why would Suzanne have mentioned—who was it you said?—the Ramirezes to me?’

‘Well, because Julia is going to marry their son,’ explained Mike carelessly. Julia was Suzanne’s daughter, Ally recalled. He pointed at the single-engined aircraft that awaited them on the tarmac. ‘There’s my pride and joy. And don’t worry; I’ve got an icebox on board. I bet you could murder a cold drink?’

He hastened ahead so that by the time she’d reached the small Cherokee he’d already stowed her bags in the back. ‘Welcome aboard,’ he said, helping her up the short flight of steps into the cabin. ‘You’re going to feel a whole lot better when we get off the ground.’

Ally hoped so. Right now, she felt hot and uncomfortable, the shirt and denim trousers that had felt too thin in London now damp and sticking to her skin. She’d removed the jacket she’d worn to travel in as soon as she’d got off the plane but she was still sweating. She should have brought a change of clothes in her hand luggage, she thought ruefully. But then, this morning she’d been too bemused to think of things like that.

This morning…

Pushing that thought aside, she settled into the seat beside Mike and sipped a cola as he completed his pre-flight checks. Then he adjusted his earphones and she heard the static buzz as the control tower responded to his request for clearance for take-off.

‘Not long now,’ he said, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. ‘These guys are pretty efficient.’

Ally nodded, hoping she wouldn’t disgrace herself. She’d never flown in such a small aircraft before and, when Mike taxied to the end of the runway, she felt her stomach quiver.

But then they were moving, faster and faster, and in no time at all it seemed they were off the ground and soaring into the blue, blue sky. Nassau, and the island of New Providence, fell away below them and although she still felt a little nervous, her fears seemed foolish. Mike was obviously at home behind the controls and his enthusiasm was infectious.

‘Is that San Cristobál?’ she asked, after a few minutes, noticing another island on the horizon. But Mike shook his head.

‘Hell, no,’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s Andros. It’s the biggest island in the group. San Cristobál is one of the smallest.’

‘Oh.’

Ally grimaced and Mike grinned at her. ‘Hey, it was a reasonable question,’ he said. Then, pointing down, he added, ‘Can you see the reef? It runs the whole length of Andros. People come from all over the world to dive around the coral.’

‘Really?’

Ally gazed down, entranced, and forgot to be worried. There was so much more to see from this small plane than from the big jumbo that she’d flown in from London. She could see dozens of islands now, strung out like pearls across the ocean, and even the sails of larger yachts that were cruising the calm waters below them.

Her stomach tightened. Perhaps one of those yachts was owned by the company Raul worked for, she thought tensely. He’d said they chartered yachts all over the Caribbean, catering to the increasingly popular demand for sailing craft. She wished she’d asked him what the name of the company was. Although he probably wouldn’t have told her. A man who slept with a woman and then left before she woke up was hardly likely to leave his calling card.

She pressed her lips together. It was her own fault, of course. There was no point in blaming him for what had happened. It was she who’d let him buy her a drink; she who’d accepted his invitation to dinner. And it was she who’d invited him into her room for a nightcap, precipitating the events that had followed…

She shivered. It all seemed faintly unbelievable now, but it had happened. She had done all those things and more besides. If she was now regretting the whole affair, it served her right. She should have known better.

But, oh, nothing like that had ever happened to her before. All right, she’d been a fool, but she’d also been incredibly vulnerable. Had he guessed that she would have little defence against his practised charm? That, even though he was considerably younger than she was, she wasn’t more experienced? It wasn’t as if she’d led him on. Or not intentionally, she amended, with a grimace.

And yet, had it been such a bad experience? Ally sighed. If she was absolutely honest with herself she would have to admit that it hadn’t. In fact, it was probably because it had been so incredibly satisfying that she was feeling so hurt—so confused—now.

But what had she expected? That something more would come of it? That he might swear undying love for her on the basis of one good night’s sex? Come on, Ally, she chided herself inwardly. Grow up!

But she couldn’t prevent her mind from drifting back to the moment when they’d reached her door and the mistake she’d made by inviting him in…

‘I—want to thank you again,’ she began, fumbling in her bag for her key-card. ‘You’ve saved me from spending a rather anxious evening on my own. I’m not used to travelling alone, and I was feeling a little apprehensive.’

‘My pleasure,’ said Raul, taking the rescued key-card out of her hand and inserting it in the lock for her. The green light flashed and he smiled. ‘There you go.’

‘Thank you.’ Ally turned the handle and opened the door. She stepped inside and then glanced back over her shoulder. ‘Um—goodnight.’

‘Didn’t you forget something?’

Ally swallowed. Of course, she thought unhappily. He expected her to invite him in. That was why he’d offered to escort her to her door. All the rooms had mini-bars and he would know that. What could be more natural than to invite him in for a nightcap? It was the accepted thing to do. Or it would be if she had more confidence in herself.

And yet…

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, not looking at him, pretending to be intent on closing her handbag. ‘Er—I should have asked. Would you like to come in for a drink?’

Let him say no, she begged, forcing herself to turn and face him. And then her cheeks burned when she saw the key-card in his hand.

‘A drink?’ he echoed now, handing her the key-card, and she realised it hadn’t been his intention to invade her privacy. ‘Well, I—’

‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to,’ she broke in hurriedly, but she knew as soon as she spoke that she’d said the wrong thing. She sounded as if she might take offence if he refused, and, as if to endorse this thought, Raul inclined his head.

‘Why not?’ he said, stretching out an arm to press the door wider. His lips twisted. ‘We might as well end the evening as we began it. Please, go ahead.’

A maid had been into the room while she was at dinner and now the queen-size bed was turned down and a cellophane-wrapped chocolate had been placed on her pillow. In the lamplight, the room looked warm and personal and Ally’s tension increased in direct opposition to its implied intimacy.

The door closed behind her guest and, casting him a rather panic-stricken glance, she threw her handbag onto the bed and hastened towards the refrigerated cabinet. The cool air from inside was balm to her hot cheeks and she scanned its contents with anxious eyes, looking for a small bottle of single malt.

‘Whisky?’ she asked, finding what she was looking for and lifting it out. She closed the door of the cabinet with her hip and leaned back against it. ‘I’m afraid there doesn’t appear to be any ice.’

Raul had paused in the middle of the floor and was looking about him with some interest. But now he regarded her with considering eyes.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘In all honesty, I’ve probably drunk more than I should have anyway.’ He gave her a gentle smile. ‘But thanks for the offer.’

Ally shook her head. Conversely, now that he was rejecting the drink, she was disappointed. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘It’s no trouble, you know.’

Raul hesitated. ‘Well, if you insist…’

‘I’ll get a glass,’ she said, once again on the defensive. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’

There were glasses in the bathroom, she remembered with some relief, but she had to pass him to get to the bathroom door. Easing round him, she managed to reach her objective without embarrassing herself still further and she gratefully switched on the light. The fluorescent glow was reassuringly bright and she managed to unscrew the cap and pour the contents of the bottle into one of the squat water glasses without spilling any.

She was reluctant to leave the impersonal brilliance of the bathroom for the discreetly lit surroundings of the bedroom, however. Pausing in the doorway, she said, ‘Here you are,’ and extended the glass towards him so that Raul was obliged to move into the harsher light to take it. She injected a note of polite interest into her voice. ‘I hope it’s all right.’

‘I’m sure it will be.’ Raul swallowed a mouthful of the whisky and nodded. ‘It’s fine,’ he said quietly. Then, ‘Are you all right?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Ally wrapped her arms about her midriff. ‘Oh—you mean because I’m not having a drink? Well, actually, I feel as though I’ve drunk too much, too. Particularly as I’ve got a long flight in the morning. I just hope I’ll wake up in time. Perhaps I should order one of those wake-up calls—’

She was babbling; she knew it. And she was hardly surprised when he broke into her prattle to say in an oddly flat tone, ‘I’d better go.’ He paused. ‘I can see I’m making you nervous, and it is late.’

‘Oh, but—’ Ally moistened her lips. ‘You—you haven’t finished your drink.’

‘It doesn’t matter—’

‘It does.’ Ally gazed at him with wide uncertain eyes, and Raul uttered a groan.

‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’ He started towards the door. ‘Get a good night’s rest.’

‘Wait!’ Ally went after him. ‘I didn’t mean—that is, I’m sorry if I’ve spoiled the evening.’

‘You haven’t.’ He almost growled the words. Then he gave her a tormented look. ‘Let me go, Ally Sloan, or I may do something we’ll both regret.’ His hand came out almost of its own volition and shaped her cheek. ‘You’re very sweet, do you know that? And I’m old enough to know better.’

Ally drew a trembling breath. ‘You’re not implying that I invited you in here to—to—’

‘I’m not implying anything,’ he said huskily. And then, with a muffled oath, he bent his head and brushed her mouth with his…

‘If you look there, you can just see San Cristobál.’ Mike Mclean’s voice dragged her back to the present and she gathered her scattered senses to look where he was pointing. ‘Can you see it? It’s that fish-tailed island just west of Marlin Cay.’

Ally had no idea what Marlin Cay was, but she recognised San Cristobál from his description. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘How much longer is it going to take?’

‘Oh—ten, fifteen minutes,’ replied Mike, giving her a cheerful grin. ‘I bet you’re looking forward to seeing Suze again. She said you’ve known one another a long time.’

‘That’s right.’ Ally endeavoured to distract herself from her thoughts.

‘How come you haven’t been out to see her before?’

‘Well…’ Ally hesitated. ‘It hasn’t been—possible.’

She neglected to tell him that both Suzanne and Peter had never liked Jeff; that they’d both thought he was a user and that they thought he’d neglected Ally shamefully in the past. Of course, she’d always defended him in those days. If only she’d known…

‘I get you.’ She suspected Mike thought that the airfare had proved prohibitive before this. ‘Well, I’m sure you’re going to have a great time. And any time you need a guide, I want you to know you can count on me.’

Ally smiled. ‘You’re very kind.’

‘Not kind.’ Mike winked. ‘Just taking advantage of the situation. If I know Suze, she’ll have you fixed up with an escort before you know it. I’m staking my claim, that’s all.’

Ally’s smile thinned a little. She didn’t want Suzanne or anyone else ‘fixing her up with an escort’. She didn’t want an escort. After last night she thought it would be a long time before she allowed any other man to get even half as close to her. God, how had it happened? How could she have been so naïve?

Her skin prickled with the remembrance of how she’d felt when Raul kissed her. A tingling sensation had begun when his mouth had touched hers and spread throughout her whole body. For a few seconds she’d been unable to move, unable to speak. Unable to do anything, in fact, but absorb the incredulous realisation that he was holding her firmly between his hands and nibbling on her lips.

She took a deep breath. She should have stopped him; she knew that now, had known it then, only she’d been so shocked by the feelings he had so effortlessly inspired that she’d numbed her mind to any kind of mutiny. She’d wanted him to go on; she’d wanted him to kiss her; she’d wanted him to thrust his caressing tongue into her mouth and take possession of her spinning senses.

God, she’d been so easy, she agonised bleakly. She’d always despised women who made fools of themselves over younger men, but she was no better. Yet she’d always considered herself beyond such things. Even when Jeff had left her for a much younger woman, she’d felt a certain amount of scorn for what she’d seen as his attempt to recapture his youth. She would never have dreamed that she could be caught in the same trap, would never have believed she could act that way herself.

So why had she?

As Mike contacted the airport at San Cristobál to negotiate their approach and landing, Ally struggled to understand what Raul had done to make her forsake the woman she’d thought she was and become some wild creature governed by her needs and her emotions.

She pressed her lips tightly together. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t known what she was doing. No matter how much easier it would have been for her to blame him for what had happened, she couldn’t do it. She’d gone into his arms eagerly, blindly, seeking a crazy gratification that she’d instinctively known that only he could provide.

God, what must he have thought of her? When he’d kissed her, when he’d tilted her chin and looked into her eyes, what had he seen? A timid frightened woman who was suddenly at the mercy of her senses, or a sex-starved harlot with no shame and fewer morals?

She shook her head. Whatever he’d thought, she’d been too bemused to do anything but drown in the sultry heat of his lovemaking. Weak and feeble as the memory was, she’d been trembling with need and emotion, and lost to any will but his.

She seemed to remember he’d said something about this not being supposed to happen, almost as if everything that had happened up to that point had been preordained. But with his thumb tugging at the corner of her lips, she hadn’t attempted to ask him what he meant and he hadn’t repeated it. His mouth had been too intent on tracing a sensuous path down the curve of her neck while he whispered her name over and over with an almost desperate urgency.

Perhaps that was why she hadn’t attempted to stop him, she consoled herself. Perhaps the knowledge that this attractive man was apparently as drunk with his emotions as she was with hers had prevented her from drawing back. But that was wishful thinking. She’d have let him do anything at that moment.

For a second, she felt the quivering in her thighs that she’d felt then, the melting sensation of her bones dissolving, of her legs becoming like jelly beneath her. His hands had caressed her throat, she remembered, sliding beneath the neckline of her dress, exposing the pale skin of her shoulders. For the first time in her life she’d been glad that there was flesh on her bones and that she didn’t have the saltcellar hollows that young women seemed to think was such an essential to beauty today.

She’d hardly been aware that he’d found the zip at the back of her dress until it slid away to pool in a circle of black silk about her ankles. But the amazing thing was that she hadn’t been embarrassed standing there in little more than her bra and pantyhose while he was still fully clothed.

But that didn’t stop her from cringing now. God, she must have been drunk—and not just on her emotions. She could think of no other reason why she would have acted so out of character. She was simply not that kind of woman. Until now, she’d lived a perfectly decent life. Having sex with a stranger she’d only met hours before was the stuff of romantic novels; not real life. Yet when he’d touched her, when he’d pulled her against his lean, muscled body and tantalised her with his teasing mouth, she’d felt as if she had no will of her own.

How had it happened? When his lips had returned to hers with what had felt suspiciously like hunger, why had she wound her arms around his neck and given him back kiss for kiss? Dear Lord, she’d behaved as if she was greedy for his lovemaking, raising herself up on her toes, revelling in the hard strength she could feel between his thighs, fitting her quivering body to his.

For his part Raul had offered no opposition. On the contrary, for some reason he’d seemed to find her—what? Her inexperience? Her naïvety? Her desperation? She shuddered—exciting. He’d been so different from Jeff, she conceded tensely, taking her with him every step of the way. She couldn’t even pretend that she’d thought of her ex-husband when she was in Raul’s arms. There had been no comparison between Jeff’s solid frame and Raul’s sinuous masculinity; no similarity whatsoever in their approach.

The truth was Jeff had never made love to her with even half of the skill that Raul had so carelessly exhibited, and even with her eyes closed she could not have mistaken his identity. She had never experienced such power, such tenderness, such suppressed passion, that had been at once flattering and thrilling. And, oh, so unbelievably good.

Half afraid that Mike would notice the way she was twisting her hands together in her lap, she turned her head to stare out of the plane’s window. They’d be landing soon, she reminded herself. She had to stop thinking about what had happened last night and start anticipating her arrival. She had weeks ahead of her to relax and do whatever she wanted, and surely now that she’d got Jeff out of her system she was not going to make the mistake of letting one unguarded incident ruin her holiday.

All the same, images of herself and Raul together refused to be banished. They had done things that she and Jeff had never done, not even when they were first married. But then, he’d seduced her before she was old enough to know better and, with the twins on the way, she’d been pathetically eager to accept his proposal.

She sighed.

Nevertheless, nothing could excuse the way she’d behaved last night. She hadn’t gone to bed with Raul because she’d felt some latent desire to prove herself. She’d slept with him because she’d wanted to, because she’d wanted to please him—and that was the saddest thing of all.

Still caught up in the spell of emotions she’d never felt before, she’d spared little thought for what was right or wrong. When Raul had tossed his jacket aside and torn off his tie, she’d shocked herself by reaching for the buttons of his shirt. She’d been frantic for him to take his clothes off, frantic to touch him, and when she’d spread her palms against his taut midriff, she’d been almost dizzy with longing.

And Raul hadn’t given her time to have any doubts. His tongue had painted a sensuous path from her jawline to the rising swell of her breasts, drawing her bra away from her burgeoning nipples before suckling on their tender tips. As if compelled, his mouth had returned to hers again and again and there’d been a sensual pleasure in feeling the abrasion of his chest hair against her sensitive skin.

Somehow, she didn’t altogether remember how it had happened, they’d been on the bed and she’d been helping him kick off his boots and trousers. He’d been wearing black satin boxers, she recalled tremulously, and they hadn’t been able to hide the impressive bulge of his erection.

She trembled now, remembering it was she who’d peeled his shorts away and exposed his sex to her intoxicated gaze. Intoxicated! Her lips twisted. She’d been intoxicated all right. Intoxicated in more ways than one.

But had he been intoxicated, too? It had certainly seemed so at the time though she couldn’t help wondering now if he hadn’t known exactly what he was doing. She could still see him caressing her inner thighs, tucking his thumbs into the hem of her briefs and tugging them off.

After that they’d both seemed to go a little crazy. She stifled a groan. When had she become the sort of woman who opened herself to a man’s lips and his tongue, who let a man seduce her in ways she’d only read about before? Had she really spread her legs and arched against his tormenting caresses, welcomed the thrust of his tongue that had driven her to the very edge of insanity? And had she sighed with satisfaction when he’d sheathed his rampant shaft in the moist heart of her womanhood, wrapped her legs about his waist and urged him to go on?

She knew she had; knew, too, that she’d been pitifully eager for him to take possession of her, encouraging him with breathless little sounds that even then she’d hardly recognised as issuing from her mouth. She’d been deaf and blind to everything but the things he was doing to her and when her climax had come she remembered he’d silenced her grateful cry with his lips.

Her tongue circled her teeth. Thank God he’d had the sense to wear protection, she acknowledged unsteadily. If he hadn’t she might have been facing something much worse than losing her self-respect. How convenient that he’d found the contraceptive in his pocket, she thought bitterly, wondering if a man ever suffered the same regrets as a woman. Probably not, she decided wryly. He hadn’t confessed to her that he’d never felt like that before…

CHAPTER FOUR

THE plane banked suddenly and Ally clutched her seat, drawing a sympathetic grin from her companion. ‘Sorry about that,’ he apologised. ‘But we’ll be landing in a couple of minutes and there was no easy way to wake you.’

Ally stared at him. ‘I wasn’t asleep.’

‘No?’ He smirked. ‘Well, you had your eyes closed anyway. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.’

Ally decided not to argue with him. It was probably better if he thought she’d been dozing rather than reliving one of the most humiliating experiences of her life. ‘Thanks,’ she said, managing a dry tone. ‘I suppose I am tired. I was—up—very early this morning.’

Only to discover Raul was gone, she recalled unwillingly. Foolishly perhaps, she’d expected him to be there, but she knew now that that had been unrealistic. And yet, after he had spent more than half the night making mad passionate love to her, she had hoped he might have something more to say to her. Even if it was just goodbye.

But she’d been wrong. He’d evidently made his escape while she was still sleeping and she’d been left with a hollow sense of abandonment. And yet, what had she expected? Everything that needed to be said had been said the night before, and he’d certainly saved them both the embarrassment of making small talk this morning.

All the same, she couldn’t help wondering where he’d gone. She’d even entertained the idea that he might have been flying home with the same airline she was using, but, although she’d faced that possibility with a certain amount of trepidation, there’d been no sign of him at the departure gate.

Pushing these thoughts aside, she determinedly turned her attention to her present surroundings. There was a runway below them now, a narrow strip of asphalt with a belt of greenery on one side and a sandy shoreline on the other. A beach the colour of bleached bones sloped towards the blue-green waters that lapped its sands, a lacy edging of foam advancing and receding with the incoming tide.

Ally was so entranced with the view that she barely noticed the touch-down, only becoming aware that they had landed when Mike applied the air brakes. ‘Welcome to San Cristobál,’ he said, easing the aircraft off the runway and into one of the holding bays. ‘I know you’re going to love being here.’

‘I hope so.’ Ally gazed about her with bemused eyes. ‘It’s so beautiful. I can hardly believe I’m here at last.’

‘You’ll get used to it,’ said Mike drily, taxi-ing towards a handful of colour-washed buildings with corrugated iron roofs. He nodded towards a group of people gathered around a cream convertible and a pink buggy. ‘Looks like you’ve got a welcoming committee. That’s Suze’s buggy and the coupé belongs to Finisterre. I guess young Ramirez must be expected back today, too.’

Ally turned to look at him. ‘Finisterre?’ she said, looking puzzled.

‘Yeah, Finisterre.’ Mike grinned as he brought the small aircraft to a halt. ‘That’s the name Rodrigo Ramirez gave his estate—oh, it must be over a hundred years ago now. Rodrigo, by all accounts, was a bit of a villain. Didn’t mind turning his hand to anything so long as it made money.’

Ally’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Smuggling, you mean?’

‘Among other things,’ said Mike wryly. ‘Here comes Suze. Let me get the door open.’

Taking off his headphones, he stood and climbed over the console into the rear of the plane. Releasing her safety belt, Ally did likewise, fanning herself with the empty cola can when a draught of hot air from the opening door engulfed her.

‘Ally!’ Suzanne was waiting impatiently at the bottom of the steps that Mike had lowered. ‘Oh, Ally, hurry up and get down here. I want to give you a hug.’

Ally felt the unaccustomed prick of tears as her friend enfolded her in her arms. At least Suzanne hadn’t changed, she thought gratefully. She was just as warm and exuberant as she remembered, if a little unfamiliar in her sleeveless vest and cotton shorts. And so brown, mused Ally enviously, drawing back to look at her. Even her dark hair had been striped in shades of gold and copper so that she looked both casual and sophisticated.

‘It’s so good to see you again,’ Suzanne added, before Ally could say anything. ‘It must be six years since I was last in England.’

‘Seven,’ said Ally, smiling though her tears. ‘Oh, Suzanne, I’ve missed you.’

‘Me, too,’ said Suzanne, turning to the young woman who had come to join them. ‘Julia, you remember my friend Ally, don’t you?’

‘Oh, sure.’

Julia smiled a welcome, but she was shading her eyes and watching the horizon as her mother spoke, and Suzanne pulled a face.

‘Don’t mind her,’ she said. ‘Her boyfriend’s due back from England today, too. I did tell you Julia was planning on getting married, didn’t I?’

‘Well—’

Ally started to explain that Mike Mclean had mentioned something about it, but Suzanne didn’t wait for an answer, ‘You didn’t meet him, did you? I told him to look out for you at the airport, but I suppose it was unrealistic to expect him to pick you out of the crowd.’

‘I—’ Ally shook her head. ‘No, I—I don’t think so.’ But had she? A feeling of apprehension swept over her. ‘What—what’s his name?’

‘There it is!’

Julia’s sudden cry caused everyone to look skyward and Suzanne gave her daughter’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. ‘I knew he wouldn’t be long,’ she said. And then, to Ally, ‘Julia and Carlos—that’s the Ramirezes’ younger son—have been here for over half an hour waiting for the plane. He’s been away for ten days, so, as you can imagine, Julia’s pretty eager to have him back again.’

‘Yes?’ Ally swallowed, noticing that Julia gave her mother an impatient look. ‘You didn’t tell me what his name was—’

‘I’ll give you a hand with the luggage, shall I?’ Mike, who had unloaded Ally’s bags as she and Suzanne were greeting one another, now intervened. ‘You want them in the buggy, right, Suze?’

‘Oh, there’s no need for you to do that,’ protested Ally, and Suzanne echoed her sentiments.

Summoning one of the porters who had been standing beside the convertible talking to an olive-skinned young man who Ally presumed was Julia’s future brother-in-law, she added, ‘Thanks, Mike. I really do appreciate this.’

‘And me,’ put in Ally quickly. ‘It was a lovely flight.’

‘Well, I’m sure you’ll have the chance to thank him again,’ remarked Suzanne smugly. ‘Mike’s going to come and have supper with us one evening while you’re here, aren’t you, darling?’

‘It’ll be my pleasure,’ said Mike, and, intercepting the glance he exchanged with her friend, Ally couldn’t help remembering what he’d said about Suzanne’s propensity for matchmaking. Ally hoped she wasn’t going to have to hurt anyone’s feelings in the days ahead.

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