by Anne Mather
‘Okay. Thank you,’ she said now, and put down the receiver. She needed a few moments to compose what she was going to say before she made the call.
Eventually, though, she dialled for an outside line and punched in the numbers of her parents’ home. For years they’d all lived in a comfortable house in Chingford, but when Rachel had moved into an apartment of her own her parents had sold the house and bought an apartment themselves.
‘Hello?’
Her father’s voice was surprisingly welcome. Despite the argument they’d had about her coming here, he was still her best friend in the entire world. She loved her mother. There was no doubt about that. But the aloofness she’d always detected in her mother’s attitude towards her had made any real closeness between them difficult.
‘Hey, Dad.’ Rachel tried to sound upbeat. ‘Sorry I was out when you called.’
‘Where were you?’
Instead of making some reassuring comment, Ralph Claiborne was immediately on the offensive.
‘I—I took a tour of the island,’ Rachel finally replied, a little defensively. ‘I was going to ring you as soon as I got back.’
‘Hmmph!’ Her father didn’t sound mollified. ‘So, what’s happening? Have you spoken to your mother yet?’
‘Are you kidding?’ Rachel was indignant. ‘We’re not talking Camberwick Green here, Dad. This may be a fairly small island, but I should think its population runs into tens of thousands.’
‘Does it?’
‘Yes.’ Rachel sighed. ‘You’re going to have to give me some leeway, Dad. I can’t be making a report to you every single day.’
‘No one’s asking you to phone every single day,’ he shot back, evidently on edge. ‘Just keep me in the loop, Rachel. That’s all I ask.’
‘And I will. When I have something pertinent to tell you.’ Rachel crossed her fingers, aware that she wasn’t being honest with him either. ‘Anyway, how are you? How are you managing on your own?’
‘Oh, I’m all right.’ He was dismissive. ‘Your aunt Laura brought me a cooked meal last night.’ He snorted. ‘The damn woman can’t keep away.’
‘Well, you watch what you’re doing,’ said Rachel reprovingly. ‘You know Aunt Laura’s always had a soft spot for you. I’d hate you to get involved with her when Mum’s probably going to be home in a couple of days.’
‘You think?’
He didn’t sound optimistic, and, knowing all the facts, Rachel couldn’t blame him. If her mother was involved with Matt Brody, she was unlikely to want to give him up any time soon.
‘Leave it to me,’ she said firmly, with more confidence than circumstances allowed. ‘I’ll give you a ring in a couple of days, unless you hear something before I do.’
‘As if I’m going to.’ Her father sounded depressed now. ‘Thank God I didn’t retire last year as your mother wanted.’
Ralph Claiborne was an accountant, working for a small firm in Charing Cross. But now Rachel had to wonder if his refusal to retire might have been the trigger that had set the present events in motion. Maybe her mother was lonely. Still, that wasn’t really an excuse for what she’d done.
‘Okay, Dad,’ Rachel said now. ‘I’m going to go and take a shower and then have some lunch. This is a super hotel.’ Owned by the Brodys. But that was something she couldn’t discuss right now. ‘I’m glad you chose it.’
‘Well, I’m glad I’ve done something right, then,’ said her father shortly. ‘But you’re not there to enjoy an unscheduled holiday, Rachel. You know what I expect you to do. Find your mother.’
‘Yes, Dad.’
Rachel winced at the pain in his voice, and long after she’d replaced the receiver she sat there just staring at the phone. But without Matt Brody’s help she hadn’t the first idea of how she was going to find Sara Claiborne. This was the only hotel on the island, according to the taxi driver, and surely the receptionist would have made the connection if her mother was staying here.
* * *
During the next couple of days Rachel made a concerted effort to find out everything she could about alternative accommodation on the island. She found an information booth in town, and was able to get the names of several B and Bs from them. She checked them out without any luck, but she wasn’t totally surprised. And there was no way she could mention her search to the receptionist at the Tamarisk without arousing more questions than answers.
On the third day she made her way down to the harbour. Despite her investigations, for the first two days she’d suffered from jet-lag and had needed to rest in the afternoons. She had gone down to the pool for a swim in the early evening, however—the water was deliciously warm then, and mostly deserted—before returning to her room to dress for dinner.
She was falling into quite a routine, and she knew she had to put a stop to it. It was far too easy to relax here, even if the sight of Matt Brody still caused goosebumps to feather her spine. She’d seen him once or twice, going in and out of the hotel, but there’d never been a confrontation. Whether that was his fault or hers, she couldn’t be certain. But she was fairly sure he was avoiding her.
Which wasn’t helping her father’s cause at all. She knew he’d feel so betrayed if he learned she’d spoken to Matt Brody without even mentioning her mother’s name.
But how could she? Rachel asked herself. She’d only spent a couple of hours in Matt’s company, when all was said and done. They weren’t even friends. They were more like enemies now. How could she have asked him such a personal question? Are you having an affair with my mother?
The harbour was as pretty as the rest of the island. Several fishing boats were anchored on one side of a small stone pier, with a surprisingly busy marina occupying the other. A number of yachts with reefed sails bobbed in the current, their distinctive mooring bells carrying musically on the breeze.
There were motor yachts, too. Huge expensive things, with tiered decks and gleaming brass furniture. One of them even had a small pool, but it was empty at present. Its owner was probably enjoying the freedom of moving from place to place.
Rachel leaned on the rail overlooking the marina. She was wearing shorts this morning, and a blue silk vest she’d bought in the hotel shop. She was admiring her slight tan when she saw a big man emerge from one of the slips. He was formally attired, in pleated khakis and a dress shirt, open at the neck. He was wearing a tie, too, pulled away from his collar. His dark hair was ruffled by the breeze, but there was no mistaking that it was Matt Brody, real and in the flesh.
Her instincts were telling her to walk away, now, before he looked up and saw her. All right, she wasn’t doing anything wrong, but would he believe her being here was purely a coincidence? She remembered he’d avoided her at the hotel. Or at least made no effort to speak to her again. And after her behaviour at the beach she couldn’t exactly blame him.
She guessed he’d come from one of the motor vessels. The yacht behind him wasn’t the biggest in the marina, but it wasn’t the smallest either. He wasn’t dressed for sailing, so what was he doing here?
Despite her misgivings, she knew she ought to make an effort and speak to him. For her father’s sake, if nothing else. How was she ever going to find out where her mother was if she didn’t open the lines of communication, as they said in the best spy dramas? Where was the harm? If he blew her off, she could at least say she’d tried.
Rachel took a breath, preparing to call a greeting, when she saw a young woman emerge from the yacht behind him. The sound she’d been about to make was stifled in her throat. Evidently they were together. The girl was hurrying, trying to catch him up.
‘Wait,’ she called, her voice showing her agitation. ‘Matt, wait for me. D’you want me to break my heel on these damn boards?’
She was a beautiful young woman, Rachel noticed. N
ot particularly tall, but slender and graceful, with short black hair and elfin features. But right now her mouth was drawn down in a scowl, her ill humour evidently directed towards her companion.
‘I didn’t ask you to come here,’ Matt called back over his shoulder, his voice carrying clearly over the water. And Rachel felt like a voyeur, no matter how innocent her eavesdropping might be.
‘I know that,’ the girl huffed as she caught up with him. She grabbed his arm familiarly and he didn’t shake her off. ‘But I wanted to speak to you privately and you’re never around.’
Matt helped her negotiate the gate that led out of the mooring area. ‘What you mean is, you don’t usually get up before midday.’
‘I need my sleep,’ she protested, as they disappeared under the overhang of the jetty.
And Rachel realised they were probably heading for the stone stairs that she could see just a few yards away along the pier.
Once again, the urge to escape before they saw her was compelling. Whoever the girl was, Matt was evidently familiar with her sleeping habits. Which begged the question, how many women was he involved with?
However, before she could decide what she wanted to do, Matt appeared at the top of the steps. He stretched out a hand to help the young woman up beside him, and then they both started walking towards the quay. Towards Rachel.
Matt recognised her at once. Rachel thought he cast a brief glance down at his companion, but he didn’t slow his stride. Whoever she was, he wasn’t concerned that Rachel had seen her with him, and as before it was left to the girl to keep up with him.
‘Hi.’ As soon as they were within speaking distance, Rachel spoke. She was conscious that her greeting had caught the other girl unawares. ‘It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?’
‘They’re all lovely mornings on St Antoine,’ replied Matt tersely, and she was sure his intention had been to walk right by her.
But the girl caught his arm again, and he came to an evidently reluctant halt. ‘Except in the hurricane season,’ she said, narrowing her eyes at Rachel and assessing her appearance with an intensity that was far from objective. ‘Are you staying on the island? Ms—er—?’
‘Rachel,’ Rachel supplied a little stiffly. She knew Matt was looking at her with unconcealed impatience. Clearly he hadn’t wanted to do more than acknowledge her, and then only because she’d spoken first. ‘I’m staying at the Tamarisk.’
‘Oh. You’re staying at the hotel.’ The girl raised dark brows and glanced up at the man beside her. ‘How interesting.’ She paused. ‘Isn’t it, Matt?’
Matt’s response was merely to shrug his shoulders, and the girl absorbed this before turning back to Rachel to ask enquiringly. ‘Are you staying long?’
Rachel objected to these questions. Particularly from someone she hadn’t even been introduced to. But if she wanted to retain Matt’s attention she had to be polite.
‘Uh—no,’ she said now. ‘Just a couple of weeks, actually. I don’t think the hurricane season will bother me.’
‘Or Amalie either.’ As if he felt compelled to make some contribution to the conversation, Matt released himself from the girl’s fingers and gave Rachel an appraising look. She was instantly conscious of the limitations of narrow-legged shorts and trainers, but Matt’s eyes were coolly uninterested. ‘When the hurricane season comes around my sister’s usually tucked up safely in New York.’
She was his sister!
Rachel’s tongue ran nervously over her upper lip. It shouldn’t have been such a relief to her, but it was. ‘So,’ she ventured, ‘have you been sailing?’
‘In this outfit?’
Amalie rolled her eyes, and Rachel felt foolish for having suggested such a thing.
‘I was just checking out the boat,’ Matt put in, apparently taking pity on her. ‘We’ve got a group of fishermen coming in tomorrow, and they plan on taking it up to Grand Cayman.’
‘Oh…’ Rachel nodded. ‘It’s a charter.’
‘Yeah, a charter.’ Amalie chimed in again. ‘My brother insists on checking the boats out himself.’
Rachel’s eyes widened. ‘You’ve got more than one?’
‘Heavens, yes. We’ve got—’
‘—more than one,’ Matt broke in before Amalie could finish. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse us…’
‘Actually…’ Rachel wasn’t accustomed to soliciting a man’s company, but she had to try. ‘I was wondering if you—and your sister, of course—might like to join me for a—a coffee or something.’
The girl was the first to speak. She gave Rachel a measuring look and then gazed up at Matt, her expression frankly mocking. ‘Hey, I think you’re being propositioned, darling,’ she said musingly. ‘Methinks the lady wants to get in your pants!’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘FOR God’s sake, Amalie!’
Matt swore, evidently infuriated by her comment, but Rachel was sure he couldn’t possibly feel as bad as she did at that moment. Without knowing anything about their history—or at least Rachel didn’t think she did—Amalie had assumed she was coming on to her brother.
‘What? What?’
Amalie feigned innocence, but Rachel was sure she’d known exactly how her brother would react.
‘Grow up!’ said Matt harshly. ‘Not all women think about sex every minute of the day. Don’t judge everyone by your standards, Amalie. Keep your sordid comments to yourself.’
‘All right, all right.’ Amalie looked sulky now, and she lifted her hands defensively. Then she turned to Rachel. ‘You weren’t offended, were you?’
Rachel mumbled something non-committal, but that didn’t stop Amalie from continuing. ‘I mean, we’re both women of the world, aren’t we? And, as you’re probably a little older than me, yeah, I bet you’ve—known quite a few exciting men in your time.’
The pause before the word ‘known’ wasn’t lost on Rachel. She wondered what Amalie would say if she told her she was still a virgin. She probably wouldn’t believe her. Most people didn’t. Particularly men.
‘Whether or not Rachel was offended, I was,’ stated Matt harshly. ‘Take the Jeep and go back to the house, Amalie. I’ll get Caleb to come and get me when I’m through.’
‘Oh, but Rachel asked me to join you for a cup of coffee,’ Amalie objected.
‘Rachel didn’t know you had to leave.’ Matt’s tone was unyielding. ‘D’you want to argue with me?’
‘No,’ Amalie said broodingly. ‘You know, you’re no fun. I would have liked a cup of coffee, as it goes.’
‘Get one back at the house,’ Matt advised her tersely. And, looking at his expression, Rachel didn’t think she would have argued with him either.
‘But we never got to talk.’ Amalie gazed up at him appealingly.
‘Okay.’ Matt didn’t sound particularly amenable. ‘How about if I promise we’ll talk tonight?’
‘Tonight?’ Amalie wailed.
‘Yeah. Be at home for dinner. We’ll have plenty of time to discuss your financial problems then.’
Amalie pursed her lips. ‘But what about Tony?’
‘Tony Scabo?’
‘Yes. I said I’d see him tonight.’
‘Well, bring him to dinner. I’m sure he’ll be interested to hear what you have to say.’
‘Beast!’ Amalie pouted. Then her eyes flickered Rachel’s way. ‘Just don’t think I’m a fool,’ she snapped shortly, and with another loaded glance in Rachel’s direction she teetered away on her ridiculous heels.
‘I’m sorry if I caused a problem,’ Rachel murmured when his sister was out of earshot.
‘Are you?’ Matt didn’t sound as if he believed her. ‘Isn’t that your role here, causing me problems?’
‘I don’t know what
you mean.’
‘No? So why are you suddenly being so friendly? The last time we were together you told me I was a moron.’
Rachel’s face flamed. ‘You called me a bimbo!’
‘Only in self-defence.’
‘Well, anyway, I was wrong. You’re not a moron. I’m sorry if I was rude. Now, can we just bury our differences and move on?’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ She was taken aback by the question.
‘Yeah. Why should you care what I think?’
‘Well…’ Rachel’s tongue circled her lower lip this time. ‘Let’s just say I do.’ She paused. ‘Will you have coffee with me?’
‘Are you coming on to me, Ms Claiborne?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Rachel knew he was just being sarcastic, but that didn’t alter her frustration. ‘You really are the most infuriating man I’ve ever known.’
‘And you’ve known quite a few—is that what you’re saying? Amalie seemed to think you knew your way around.’
‘Amalie was wrong,’ said Rachel crossly. ‘Don’t let my appearance fool you, Mr Brody.’
‘You mean because you have the kind of face and figure that might make a man think of sex?’
‘No.’ Rachel knew he was only baiting her, but she had to make some defence. ‘I just wanted you to know that I don’t spend my time jumping in and out of other people’s beds.’
‘I assume you mean men’s beds,’ Matt murmured, a hint of laughter in his voice, and she sighed.
‘Can we just leave it?’ she demanded. ‘Do you want to join me for coffee or not?’
‘Do I still have a choice?’
‘Of course.’
Matt shrugged. ‘Why not? If you’ll promise to stop calling me Mr Brody.’ They began to stroll back towards the quay. ‘So—are you enjoying your holiday? You’re not finding it lonely, being on your own?’
‘Is that why you think I’ve asked you to have coffee with me?’ she countered immediately, and Matt gave her a resigned look.