THE VIRGIN'S SEDUCTION

by Anne Mather

  'Oh.' Eve was embarrassed. 'I'm sorry. I didn't—' 'You thought because I'm called Rodrigues, I must be

  the Rodrigues,' Isabel said, with an amused sideways glance. 'No. My mother's the head teacher of San Felipe Primary. And, please, call me Isabel. Miss Rodrigues is so formal—Miss Robertson.'

  'Eve,' said Eve at once. 'So you don't teach—um— Isabel?'

  'Heavens, no.' Isabel grimaced. 'I work for Jake. At the boat yard. I handle all the bookings, the correspondence. I suppose you could say I'm his personal assistant.'

  Eve nodded, unable to think of anything positive to say to that news. She should have known a man like Jake Romero would surround himself with beautiful people, beautiful women. Like her mother...

  They were approaching the suburbs of what appeared to be a small town, and Isabel slowed accordingly. 'This is San Felipe,' she said, gesturing towards the rows of houses, the small shopping centre that developed as they approached the centre of town. 'This is where most people live, but the school is about half a mile beyond the town, nearer the tourist part of the island.'

  'Are there hotels?' asked Eve, surprised to find the place so sophisticated.

  'Small hotels,' agreed Isabel, swerving to avoid a bus that was lumbering towards them on the wrong side of

  the road. 'But the people who come here are mostly deep-sea fishermen, divers—people like that.'

  'I see.'

  Eve tugged her braid over one shoulder to cool her nape, and hoped it wasn't much further. Tiredness was

  catching up with her. Long journeys did that to her, and she hadn't really slept well since she'd accepted the job. Beyond the outskirts of the small town, Isabel turned onto a narrow track that led down towards the sea. A coast road hugged the rim of dunes that were dotted here and there with wildflowers, and further on a clutch of white-roofed houses were clustered beside a wooden jetty.

  The bleached stumps of a groyne jutted out into the shallow waters, and on the beach below the village several fishing boats had been drawn up onto the sand.

  'We're here,' said Isabel, waving at a handful of children who stopped playing to watch them go by. 'The

  school's just along here, and your house is just a little further on.'

  'My house!' Eve was startled. 'I have a house?'

  'Jake thought you'd prefer it,' Isabel said carelessly, but Eve sensed there was an edge of resentment in her voice now. 'The previous schoolteacher lodged with us. My Mom and me, that is.'

  'I see.' Eve didn't know what to say. 'It sounds—wonderful.

  I've never had a home of my own before.'

  'No?' Isabel sounded a little less disapproving as she glanced her way. 'Well, it's very small. Just a through

  living room and kitchen, with a bedroom and bathroom across a hallway. Typical San Felipe design. Simple and practical.'

  'Just what I need,' said Eve, wondering if Jake hadn't been a little ambitious on her behalf. What did she really know about looking after herself? And how on earth was she supposed to get supplies?

  An hour later most of her questions had been answered. Isabel had taken her first to meet her mother, the headmistress of the school. School being out for the day, Mrs Rodrigues was at home, and Eve soon realised that compared to what Isabel had described the Rodrigueses' home was considerably more spacious.

  Isabel's mother, reassuringly, was not unlike Mrs Portman, and she was obviously eager to make her new

  employee feel at home. She suggested Eve should take a couple of days to acclimatise herself to the island, and invited her to have dinner with herself and Isabel the following evening.

  'You'll find your fridge stocked, and drinking water in the taps,' she went on. 'We're lucky here on San Felipe.

  We have plenty of water, and it's perfectly safe to drink.'

  Eve also discovered she had an open-topped buggy for her use, sitting to one side of her cottage. 'There are

  buses,' said Isabel, who had driven the few yards from

  her home with Eve's luggage, 'but they're not very reliable.

  Besides, you'll want to see something of the island while you're here.'

  It was those last three words that occupied Eve's thoughts as she unpacked her belongings. What did they

  mean? Was it just Isabel's way of being friendly? Or was she implying that Eve wouldn't stay too long? And, if so, why? Did Jake have anything to do with it? To do with Isabel?

  But that idea was not conducive to a relaxed first evening in her new home. And, after taking a deliciously cool shower to refresh herself, Eve checked the fridge.

  She wasn't particularly hungry. Bearing in mind it was already late in the evening in Falconbridge, she just

  wanted something to tide her over until the morning. But she also knew that if she went to bed too early she'd be awake again before it was light.

  She prepared herself an avocado salad from the makings she'd found in the fridge, and ate it at the Formica-topped kitchen table. Then she poured herself a glass of diet cola and carried it out onto the veranda at

  the back of the house. A pair of battered canvas chairs were set in the shade of a striped awning, and Eve sank into one, grateful for the comparative coolness of the night air.

  It was almost completely dark now, and although she could still hear the sound of the ocean she could no longer see the water creaming into the cove just a few yards away. But in the morning the view would be waiting for her, she thought, hardly able to believe she was really here. She would have to phone her grandmother in the morning, too, but for tonight she was content just to let the peace and tranquillity of her surroundings drift over her.

  She thought she might have fallen asleep for a few minutes, because the unusual sound of a car's engine gave her quite a start. She wasn't alarmed. Although there had been a little traffic past the cottage since her arrival, there were a few dwellings beyond her own.

  But then she realised the car had stopped, and presently she heard the sound of boot heels on the flagged path that ran along the side of the house. She blinked. What time was it, for goodness sake? Eleven! She should have been in bed hours ago.

  Her heart quickened instinctively. She had the feeling she knew exactly who her visitor was, but that didn't stop the panicky wave of excitement that swept over her at the thought of seeing him again. But she would have preferred not see him tonight—not now, when she was feeling so vulnerable. She wished she'd had the sense to turn the lights out before venturing onto the veranda. If there'd been no lights, he wouldn't have stopped. As it was, with the blinds undrawn, illuminating the area like a beacon, she had no choice but to admit to being awake.

  Getting up from her chair, she moved to the veranda rail, deliberately putting herself in shadow. He might have the advantage of surprise, but she'd see his expression before he saw hers.

  However, when Jake turned the corner, where a flight of shallow wooden steps led up to where she was standing, her heart almost stopped beating altogether. In a sleeveless cotton tee shirt, with baggy khaki shorts brushing his knees, he was just as disturbing as ever, and she realised that, whatever the circumstances, she had no advantage at all when it came to this man.

  'Hi,' he said, placing one hand on the stair-rail. 'Can I come up?'

  Eve made a careless movement with her shoulders. 'It's your house,' she said, which wasn't exactly an invitation, and, moving back to her chair, she sank down again onto her seat.

  Jake took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, even though every nerve in his body was telling him he

  shouldn't do this. He hadn't intended to come here. When he'd left his house he'd only intended to drive past the cottage, just to assure himself that all was well. That was his excuse, anyway. But then he'd seen the light, and he hadn't been able to resist it. He hadn't realised how much he'd needed to see her again until he'd stopped the car. 'You're up late,' he said, pausing at the top of the steps and resting his back against the post. He wished there was more light, so that h
e could see her clearly, but what he could see tightened his stomach and quickened his pulse.

  'I thought you'd be asleep by now.'

  Eve glanced his way. 'Is that why you waited until now to come by? Because you thought I'd be asleep?'

  'No.' Jake shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts, so she wouldn't see the way they'd convulsed at

  her words. 'I was out for a drive and I saw the light.' 'Isn't it a little late to be out for a drive?' She was

  sardonic.

  Jake shrugged. 'By your standards, maybe. Me—I don't sleep that well.'

  Which was nothing but the truth. Since he'd got back from England he hadn't had above half a dozen decent

  nights' sleep.

  Eve looked Up at him now. He thought she looked a little concerned, but he couldn't honestly tell in the

  half-light that illuminated her face.

  'Perhaps if you went to bed earlier?' she murmured, raising the glass in her hand to her lips. Then, seeing him watching her, 'I suppose I should offer you some refreshment, shouldn't I?'

  Jake's conscience advised him to say no. He had no sense, being here, and he wasn't going to do himself any favours if he let her offer him a drink, if he went into the house.

  But the temptation to see her properly overcame everything else. 'That would be nice,' he said, straightening away from the stair-post. 'Do you have a beer?'

  Eve got up from her seat. 'Don't you know?' she threw over her shoulder as she opened the door. A huge moth tried to get in and she batted it away before adding tersely, 'Come and see.'

  It was years since Jake had been inside one of these cottages, and he was immediately struck by how shabby they had become. He made a brief mental note to have a decorator check them out and update where necessary— which looked about everywhere—but his thoughts were summarily put on hold when he looked at Eve again.

  She was wearing a short pink skirt that exposed her long legs, and he thought what a waste it had been to hide them with trousers. She had on a matching top, also different for her, with the kind of spaghetti straps he longed to undo. Was she wearing a bra? he wondered. He didn't think so. She hadn't been expecting visitors, after all. But that didn't stop the sudden rush of blood to his groin.

  If Eve was aware of his intent regard, she ignored it, reaching into the fridge and extracting an icy-cold can of lager from the rack in the door. 'Will this do?'

  'Thanks.'

  Jake took the can from her, flipped the tab, and drank half its contents in one gulp. God, he'd needed that, he thought. He hadn't failed to notice how she'd avoided touching him when she handed him the beer. And, despite her latent hospitality, he was fairly sure she couldn't wait for him to leave.

  'So,' he said, watching her as she crossed her arms over her midriff and turned to rest her back against the fridge door, 'you had a good journey?'

  A strange look crossed her face at this question, and he wasn't really surprised when her response was equally oblique. 'Haven't you spoken to your spy?'

  'My spy?' Jake did a double-take. 'I don't have a spy.'

  'But you did send Miss Rodrigues to meet me, didn't you?' she queried, tucking her fingertips beneath her arms.

  The action caused her folded arms to press hard against her breasts, and Jake was momentarily diverted by an urgent desire to take their place.

  Which he so mustn't do.

  Forcing himself to meet her eyes, he said, 'I sent Isabel to meet you, yeah. I was pretty sure you wouldn't want to see my ugly mug the minute you got off the plane.'

  'Oh, please. Only someone who didn't have an "ugly mug", as you put it, would say something like that!' she exclaimed, and he arched a mocking brow.

  'Is that a compliment?'

  It was an observation,' she told him flatly. 'I'm tired, Jake. Why have you really come here?'

  Because I couldn't keep away?

  No, that wouldn't work. 'I thought I told you,' he began earnestly. 'I was—'

  '—passing and you saw the light,' she finished cynically.

  'Yes, I heard what you said.' She waited a beat.

  'Do you expect me to thank you for offering me this job?'

  Jake expelled a shocked breath. 'That was a low blow, even for you.'

  'Why even for me?' Eve's lips pursed. 'Because I'm Cassie's daughter?' She took a steadying breath. 'I am

  nothing like my mother.'

  'D'you think I don't know that?' Jake stifled an oath at the realisation they'd got off on the wrong foot again.

  'After what I've learned about your mother, I wouldn't insult you by even implying you were.'

  Eve's brows drew together. 'After what you've learned about my mother?' she echoed. 'What do you mean by that? What has she told you?'

  'The truth?' he suggested drily. 'As your grandmother set the ball rolling, there wasn't much else she could do.'

  Eve felt sick. 'So you know about—about the Fultons and—and Andy Johnson?'

  'I know you've had a pretty tough time,' he said harshly, disliking the humiliated look she gave him. 'Eve,

  this isn't about the past, or about your mother. Offering you this job—I just wanted to help you, that's all.' He shook his head. 'There are no strings attached.'

  Eve's smoky gaze slid over his for a moment, then dropped to the floor. For the first time he noticed she was barefoot, and for some reason that was as sexy as hell.

  But what she was saying sobered him, and forced him to meet her wary gaze. 'You—you went to see Cassie before you left London?'

  Jake was taken aback. He wouldn't have thought her mother would have advertised that interview. 'Yes,' he

  said evenly. 'Yes, I did. Does it matter?'

  'Why did you go to see her?'

  'You know why.' He lifted a hand to massage the sudden ache he'd developed in the back of his neck. 'You

  can't drop a pebble into a still pool without expecting the ripples to spread.'

  A tremor ran over her as he spoke. 'It was nothing to do with you.'

  'Like hell it wasn't.' He was trying to keep his temper, but she could hear the anger underlying his harsh words.

  'I wanted to know why she'd abandoned her daughter.

  Your grandmother had only given me the bare bones of the story. I wanted to hear it from her own lips.'

  'Why? Why should it matter to you?'

  'Just accept that it does, right?' he said shortly. He thrust the empty can onto the drainer and pushed his

  balled fist into his palm. 'Look, it was obviously a mistake to come here tonight—'

  'You couldn't keep away from her, could you?'

  'What?'

  'Cassie. You slept with her again, didn't you?' She shivered suddenly, as if she was cold. 'When Ellie phoned to tell her I was taking this job, she asked her to warn me not trust you. I didn't understand what she meant then, but now I do.' She shook her head. 'Not that I needed the warning. You—'

  She didn't get to finish what she was saying. He covered the space between them in one stride, grasping her

  shoulders and hauling her up so that only the tips of her toes touched the floor. Then his mouth was on hers, hard and bruising, plundering her lips with all the power and expertise of which she already knew he was capable.

  And despite everything she melted.

  Her breath escaped against his lips as they parted, and then his tongue was in her mouth and she was having

  difficulty hanging onto her sanity, let alone her balance.

  'You knew I'd come, didn't you?' he muttered, his mouth hot and demanding, but sensually appealing. 'You

  can accuse me of that, yet you knew I'd come.' His hand slid into the coils of the braid that she'd loosened earlier, his thumb abrading the fine cords in her throat that were drawn as taut as violin strings. He swore again. 'I am so predictable.'

  She was breathing too quickly, her heart thundering in her ears. She could feel herself getting dizzy, but it didn't matter because this was where she wanted to
be and she couldn't pull away.

  'You're not predictable at all,' she mumbled, but she doubted he could hear her. Besides, the heat of his body, the hard pressure of his shaft throbbing against her hip, had a hypnotic quality. She felt as if she was floating several inches above the ground.

  His hands stroked the sensitive curve of her spine and she couldn't help arching against him, inviting God knew what. 'I couldn't keep away,' he said, almost savagely, cupping her bottom and urging her into even closer contact with his aroused body. 'I had to see you. Pathetic, huh? Particularly as you're prepared to believe the worst of me whatever I do.'

  'No.' Eve's head was swimming and she was hardly aware of what she was saying. She didn't want to talk;

  she didn't even want to think. She just wanted him to go on kissing her and kissing her, dragging her with his mouth and his tongue until her brain joined her senses in a total meltdown. 'Jake, it doesn't matter—'

  'It does to me.'

  As suddenly as he'd taken hold of her, he uttered an oath and she was free. She stood swaying in front of him, trying to comprehend why he was looking at her with such contempt now when only moments before he had been seducing her with his lips and his hands, but her mind simply couldn't handle it.

  'Jake—'

  'I did not sleep with Cassandra,' he informed her harshly. 'And if you think I did then I'm just wasting my

  time.'

  'I—I didn't say that—'

  'Forget it.' Jake made for the door. 'I already have.'

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  JAKE was going over the navigation charts with one of his skippers in the cabin of his latest acquisition when he heard the sound of high-heeled footsteps on the deck above.

  For a moment he entertained the crazy notion of how he'd feel if it was Eve invading his space. But he knew that wasn't going to happen. Although she was still on the island, working at the school and proving popular with staff and parents by all accounts, she was unlikely to want to see him.

  In fact, he hadn't spoken to her since the night she'd arrived, almost five weeks ago. Granted, he'd been away for part of that time, attending boat shows in Japan and South America, but he was fairly sure she was doing her best to avoid him.