‘Now, we must not forget the legs.’
‘I can manage that myself,’ she said, her eyes closed, not stirring.
‘Well, now that I have the cream…’
She felt the pressure of his hands as he started with the back of her calf and lingeringly moved upwards, up towards the back of her thigh, and she only gave a horrified squeak when his fingers stole delicately a few centimetres under the stretchy band of her bikini bottom. Then she hustled herself back into a sitting position, her face bright red.
It was, he conceded, a very revealing costume, despite its drab colour. He doubted she realised just how revealing, but when she was leaning forward like that most of her breasts were exposed. Only her nipples remained concealed. Lord, he needed to go for a swim right now.
‘That should protect you,’ he said briskly, standing up. ‘I’m going in. Coming?’
‘In a minute.’ You should be ashamed of yourself, she told herself restlessly, getting turned on by someone sticking a bit of sun-block on your back. But her nerves still felt feathered with electric currents as she watched him stroll down to the water’s edge and wade in until he could strike out and swim. He was a strong swimmer. He cut through the water until he was virtually by the reefs that protected the bay and beyond which the light blue of the sea turned a deeper, more ominous shade of navy.
Only then, with him safely out of bounds, did she head for the sea, marvelling at its warmth. No need to test the water cravenly before gritting her teeth and taking the plunge. She splashed around for a few minutes, one eye warily keeping a look-out, then lay on her back, face turned upwards to the sun, floating.
She barely heard him swiftly skimming the water towards her and shrieked as he pulled her under, hands on her waist. She surfaced, spluttering, to find him grinning at her, his hair wet and slicked back.
‘Now, what did I tell you about being careful in the sun?’ he admonished, wagging his finger at her while she tried to recover some of her composure. ‘Worst place to get the sun is when you’re in the sea, and the easiest way you can do that is by floating on your back and drifting off to sleep.’
‘I was not drifting off to sleep!’
‘Your eyes were closed.’
‘So what?’ She paddled away from him and he swam towards her, his brown body alarmingly visible under the transparently clear water. Every muscle in his body seemed to ripple with strength and virility when he swam.
‘Why don’t you swim out a bit further with me?’ he invited lazily. ‘There is a sliver of coral reef just out here and you can see some wonderful fish, even without the aid of a snorkel.’
‘No, thanks. This is as far as I go. And I think we ought to be getting in now. I shall have to wash my hair and blow dry it before we get to work.’
‘You’re right.’
Lucy could feel his black eyes boring into her, turning her breathing into laboriously shallow inhalations that left her out of breath.
‘It would be too easy to stay out here and forget why we came in the first place.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so.’ She swivelled round and began swimming back to shore. She could feel him cutting through the water alongside her, his movement as fluid as a dolphin’s. As soon as she could touch sand she stood up and half-waded, half-paddled up to the sand.
‘You mean,’ he said, latching on to her throw-away remark as they walked towards their towels, ‘you cannot envisage being relaxed enough in a situation like this to forget about work?’
‘How can I relax when I’m…?’ Lord, she had been on the verge of saying when I’m with you?
‘When you are…?’
‘…when I’m being paid to be here to do a job?’ Lucy finished lamely. She was reaching out to take the towel from his proffered hand when she realised that he was looking at her, no, staring at her, at her breasts, and as her eyes drifted down she realised why. Her bikini, which had already proved itself to be nothing along the modest lines with which it had wooed her in the department store, had now achieved the added bonus of turning into the consistency of clingfilm the minute it was wet.
The already minuscule top revealed the very pronounced jut of her nipples, lovingly outlining the generously sized circles with their protruding peaks.
As Lucy met his amused eyes with her dismayed ones he shot her a crooked smile, tilting his head to one side.
‘You look as though you are about to explode. Don’t be embarrassed. I have seen women’s nipples before.’ He knew that his matter-of-fact observation would have her floundering even more and he was right. If she could have willed the ground to open up and swallow her whole, she would have. As it was, she remained in frozen embarrassment, clutching her shirt. God, but he wanted to reach out and brush one of those hard peaks with his finger, dip behind the second skin of her swimsuit until he could feel the throbbing bud pressed into the palm of his hand. He felt a rush of restless, adolescent urgency that had him wrapping his towel around his lower half.
‘I don’t believe I asked for that piece of information,’ Lucy said icily. Her brain had finally caught up with the situation and she hustled herself into her shirt. ‘And if you were any kind of a gentleman, you wouldn’t have…have…’
‘Stared?’ He didn’t want to let this conversation go as yet. He wanted to make her aware that, however much she reminded him that they were on this sun-kissed island on business, there was a sexual awareness at work. He would make her see that until it filled her head and all memories of London, the rat race and most of all Robert were forgotten.
‘That’s right.’
‘I apologise,’ Nick murmured seriously, his eyes never leaving her flushed face. ‘You are absolutely right. Forgive me. I sometimes forget that you English do not believe in being outspoken.’
There was no answer to that one and Lucy had no intention of attempting to find one. Instead she marched off along the beach with the blood pounding furiously through her veins, vibrantly aware that he was following her every step of the way with his eyes and equally aware that she would not give him the slightest opportunity to get under her skin again.
Why had he said what he had? So that he could see her squirm? She certainly didn’t believe his excuse about forgetting the culture differences between them. He was as sophisticated as it was possible to be and would never have made any kind of faux pas unless it was intentional.
The memory of those brilliant dark eyes casually gazing at her breasts, at the outline of her nipples, the thought that he had had the sheer gall to mention them burned in her head for the full two hours it took her to shower, wash her hair and eat the succulent breakfast she had ordered from Room Service.
It was nearly ten by the time she went across to the reception area and she was tautly aware that it was in her interests to squash any incipient signs of informality from drifting into their relationship. What they had was about business. What Nick did for pleasure never had and never would include her and for that she should be grateful. Especially, she thought belatedly, with Robert on the scene.
But there was no need to squash anything. He was waiting for her, standing by the desk with two of the employees, casually but smartly dressed and back to being the supreme businessman that he normally was.
He introduced her to the two men to whom he had been talking and informed her that one of the two offices at the back of the hotel had been vacated for their use.
‘All the hotel records will be brought to us so that we can inspect them and wrap this thing up. As quickly as possible.’ His eyes were gimlet-hard as they alighted on the men, who were nodding with enthusiastic compliance. ‘I will want the accountant to be available as and when we decide we need him. And get me Rawlings.’
He nodded curtly to Lucy before heading off towards the back of the reception area and she trotted along behind him.
‘Close the door,’ he commanded as soon as they were in the office. It was a compact square room, air-conditioned and very sophisticated in comp
arison to the understated, laid-back charm of the rest of the hotel. No concessions were made in this room for fastidious, fussy guests. Here efficiency was of the essence.
The attractive man of only hours before, whose flagrant masculinity had had her senses reeling, was no more. In his place was her boss, the man who moved quickly and efficiently through piles of work, barking out orders, expecting her to keep up with him, as she usually did.
It had gone one before either of them realised that they were hungry, and rather than eat in one of the restaurants they chose instead to have a platter of sandwiches brought to them, along with cold beverages.
Nick risked switching off the air-conditioning so that he could fling open the French doors that led out to one of the more secluded areas of the extensive gardens, wryly informing her that as soon as they were finished eating they would have to return to artificial cooling or else they would never be able to get any work done.
Lucy readily agreed. The air outside was too languorously fragrant for concentration. In fact, as they sat outside on one of the wooden benches randomly placed to take advantage of the shade provided by a mature tree laden with flowers, she could feel her ability to concentrate begin to ebb.
‘So what do you think?’ he asked, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles.
‘About what?’ Immediately her advance-warning system leapt into gear, but when she stole a look at him it was to see him frowning into the distance.
‘About those discrepancies in the accounts.’
‘They seem pretty consistent,’ Lucy said thoughtfully. ‘Invoices paid but without any back-up paperwork for supplies that don’t appear to have any proof of receipt.’
The sandwiches were exquisite, stuffed with salad and an array of cold meats and tuna that melted on the tongue. With some effort, she listened to Nick, following the swerving of his mind as he explored the various possibilities for fraud that were beginning to emerge after only a few short hours, her eyes half closing to shut out some of the glare of the midday sun.
‘I hope you’ve applied some sun-block to your face,’ he remarked, breaking into his own flow of thoughtful speculation.
Lucy inclined her head slightly in his direction but kept her eyes closed. ‘I wish you’d stop acting as though you need to protect me. I’m old enough to take care of myself, Nick.’
Nick felt a muscle in his jaw begin to pulse and he opened his mouth to deny that he was doing any such thing, then closed it again. For some odd reason he did want to protect her, although he knew from the tone of her voice that she was hardly aware of how accurate her observation had been.
What next? he thought impatiently. ‘It wouldn’t do for you to have to retire ill to bed when we only have one week out here to sort everything out,’ he said brusquely, and her eyes flickered open. She sat up, having realised that she had somehow flopped back onto the wooden bench.
‘And I won’t,’ she retorted with equal brusqueness. ‘I did apply some sun-block. I wouldn’t dream of coming all the way over here and then promptly falling ill from sunburn.’
‘Oh, good God, Lucy, there’s no need to get angry because—’
‘I’m not angry. I’m just setting your mind at rest.’ She stood up, brushing her hand along the front of her thin cotton skirt, which had seemed appropriate for working. More formal than the Bermuda shorts that she had glimpsed everyone wearing, and more comfortable than long trousers, which would have been unbearable in the heat. As it was, her stretchy shirt was already beginning to cling to her like glue.
‘I see what you mean about needing the air-conditioning to work in,’ she said lightly, aiming to defuse the sudden atmosphere that had sprung up between them.
‘Without air-conditioning we would have melted an hour ago.’ He shot her a smile that indicated a truce. ‘And it seems hotter and stiller than I remember.’
Lucy looked at the flawlessly blue sky. Not a breath of wind was blowing. ‘So,’ she said, ‘what next?’
‘On with the accounts, and I think it’s time we got the accountant in.’
Their food was cleared away with the silent speed of highly trained staff, barely interrupting their methodical progress through the stack of files that had been brought in and their full use of the computer to try and tally the increasing discrepancies.
By the time the accountant was called, Nick’s single question was enough to make the man squirm with every semblance of misery.
‘Mr Rawlings did a lot of the accounting,’ he mumbled. ‘He said that, as the manager, it was up to him to handle his fair share of the finances.’
Nick sat back in the chair and Lucy watched as he turned up the heat, firing questions until the man was visibly sweating.
Finally, at the end of two gruelling hours, during which Lucy had been taking notes, jotting down names of suppliers that didn’t quite ring true, Nick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and proceeded to subject the man to an intense scrutiny.
‘And you didn’t find it suspicious that your head office was making phone calls to you, asking questions which you patently should have been able to answer and yet could not?’
‘Mr Rawlings always said that everything was fine, that he was in contact with you.’
Nick sighed heavily. ‘How old are you, Peter?’
‘Twenty-two, sir.’
‘And you live at home with your family?’
‘I’m married, sir!’ He roused himself into an offended outburst that made Lucy want to smile, despite the gravity of the circumstances. ‘I have a child. A boy. He is just over one.’
Nick held his head in his hands for a few silent moments. When he looked up his face was weary and drained of colour.
‘So where do you live, Peter?’
‘On the mainland. We have a small house. Matter of fact, I just got a mortgage from the bank.’ His face creased into lines of worry. ‘I need this job, Mr Constantinou, sir.’
‘When are you expecting Rawlings to be back here, Peter?’
‘Not sure, sir.’ Peter looked hesitantly at Nick. ‘He…’
‘Spit it out.’
‘He has family on one of the other islands near the Bahamas. They say that there’s a hurricane heading that way and he wanted to make sure that his family was going to be all right. If the hurricane comes, well, it could be one day, two…’ he shrugged ‘…maybe even a week.’
‘Hurricane? I haven’t heard anything about a hurricane.’
‘It’s on the radio.’
‘Right. OK, Peter, that’s all for now.’
‘Mr Constantinou, sir…’ He stood up. If he had had a hat to wring, Lucy was convinced he would be wringing it now. As it was, he had to make do with his hands. ‘My job…’
‘Is safe for the moment.’
Lucy waited in silence for a few minutes after Peter had gone, then she broke it by saying,
‘That was very big of you, Nick. Very compassionate.’
‘What choice did I have?’ He was still leaning forward, his chin propped on the palm of one hand, and he turned so that he was facing her. ‘He looks as though he only just recently started shaving and he has a child to support.’ He raked his fingers through his hair and stood up so that he could expend some of his energy by circling the small room, his head down-bent, his mouth set in a grim line.
‘Can you tell me—’ he turned to her, although he didn’t look as though he was focusing on her at all, more on some hazy point in the distance, some place where his thoughts were preoccupied with matters far removed from her ‘—why the hell it is that people have children when they are virtually children themselves?’
‘Well, I suppose…’
‘A mortgage, a child! Good lord!’ He paused and stared out of the French windows to the stunning lawns outside.
‘Not everyone has their life planned out to the last detail,’ Lucy said softly.
‘You mean like me?’ He smiled crookedly and without humour. ‘An
d what if I told you that my greatest wish was to have a child of my own?’ The bitter statement was out before he had time to think and he was paralysed for a few deathly seconds by the sheer horror of the revelation, then he pushed himself away from the doors and resumed his seat behind the black and chrome desk. ‘The boy will have to stay. He may be guilty of being manipulated and appallingly naïve, but the blame for all this…mess…is with Rawlings, and I intend to have his hide as soon as he steps foot back into this hotel.’
The mention of wanting a baby, she noticed, had been brushed over. For a split-second he had revealed his vulnerability and she knew, instinctively, that it was a moment best left alone.
‘If he steps foot back here,’ Lucy said, picking up the strands of their business discussions. She looked down at the thick wad of notes she had taken over the past few hours. So much for any doubts that this was going to be a working week! There was enough here to keep her busy for days. ‘Shall I get going on all of this? I’ll get some more print-outs from the computer and re-check the files to see if we’ve missed anything.’
Nick nodded grimly. ‘In the meantime I intend to go and listen to the radio and find out if there really is any hurricane bound for these parts. If there isn’t, then you might find yourself on another plane with me tracking the AWOL Rawlings down.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘WHAT do we do now?’ Lucy looked nervously across to Nick and drew her knees up so that she could wrap her arms around her legs.
This was the first moment they had had alone for two hours during which they had been herding the hotel guests together in the largest of the dining rooms so that they could explain that the path of the hurricane had altered slightly. No chance of being caught up in the dangerous vortex of the eye, but every chance that the island would be buffeted by the tail.
‘Not much else we can do but wait.’ He raked his fingers through his hair and looked at her. ‘You were good back there, very good.’ Better than good, in fact, he thought to himself as he continued to watch the elfin face staring solemnly back at him. He had provided his alarmed guests with the skeletal details of what they might expect and had somehow managed to send their panic levels soaring. Lucy, on the other hand, had soothed them, played down their fears, moved through the thirty-odd guests with just the right mixture of reassurance and blunt reality. Even though she herself had no real idea of what to expect.
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