by Anne Mather
‘Okay.’
Lily’s eyes flickered over Rafe Oliveira before she scooted into the back to get her bag. Then, with a half-smile that she managed to offer to both of them, she pulled open the door and escaped into the hot humid air of midday.
She usually bought a sandwich and a cappuccino at the nearest coffee shop before finding a quiet spot in Palmetto Park to eat her lunch. With its tree-shaded paths and tropical gardens, the park was a favourite place for picnics.
It adjoined the harbour, and in centuries past had been the holding area for slaves bought by local wealthy landowners. Lily had always thought it was fitting that it had now been turned into an amenity everyone—rich or poor—could enjoy.
She’d walked a little away from the agency and was preparing to cross the street when a hand gripped her arm just above her elbow.
Her initial reaction wasn’t one of alarm. She’d lived on Orchid Cay all her life and there were few people among the locals she wasn’t familiar with. Yet almost immediately the strength and coolness of those hard fingers had her turning to see who had accosted her, and she wasn’t entirely surprised to see Rafe Oliveira’s dark face.
‘Hi,’ he said, releasing her almost at once. ‘Can we talk?’
Lily was tempted to say No and walk on, but that would have been rude. Besides, she was fairly sure Ray wouldn’t like her to offend the man.
‘It’s my lunch hour,’ she said unnecessarily. He had obviously heard what Ray had said earlier. ‘If this is to do with the business, I think you ought to speak to Mr Myers.’
Rafe expelled an exasperated breath. ‘This has nothing to do with Ray Myers,’ he declared shortly. ‘I know it is your lunch hour. I heard what was said. That was what I was about to ask you. Will you come and have lunch with me? There are lots of small eating establishments around here.’
Lily assumed a sudden interest in the strap of her bag. But that didn’t stop her pulse from racing like a jackhammer. Why was he doing this? Why in God’s name would he want to have lunch with her?
‘Why me?’ she asked at last, voicing her doubts. ‘Why not Ray?’
Good question! Rafe regarded her with considering eyes, wondering if he really knew the answer.
‘Perhaps I prefer to have lunch with a beautiful young woman,’ he said drily. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘Well, I’m sure Mr Myers expected you to show more interest in the company,’ Lily declared stoically. ‘You hardly had time to assess the viability of the business before you left.’
Now Rafe’s dark brows arched expressively. ‘And that is your concern, sí? You are perhaps a partner in the company?’
Lily felt her face go red. ‘I work with Ray, that’s all.’ She paused. ‘But you must have had some reason for coming into the agency again.’
Rafe shrugged. ‘And if I did?’
Lily decided to go for broke. ‘Well, is it true? Have you decided to take a financial interest in Cartagena Charters?’
‘Have lunch with me and you may find out,’ said Rafe adroitly, watching the play of emotions that crossed her face.
Lily shook her head. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. And then, as another thought occurred to her, ‘I bet this wasn’t Ray’s idea.’
‘I can understand why you would think that,’ he murmured softly. ‘You must know he is more interested in hiding the company’s failures than in presenting a balanced picture of its assets.’ He shrugged. ‘But you can tell him he will have to start telling the truth if he expects any further interest from me.’
‘Ray just exaggerates a little.’ Her tongue sought the roof of her mouth. ‘It hasn’t been an easy time for him.’
‘It has not been an easy time for anyone.’ Rafe stifled a curse, glancing about them in some exasperation. ‘And do you honestly expect me to continue this conversation here?’ He nodded across the street. ‘There is a man over there who has been watching me ever since I left the agency. What do you think he is doing, hmm? Propping up the sidewalk? Checking out the talent? I think not.’
Lily couldn’t help herself. Ignoring his groan of frustration, she turned to look. And, sure enough, there was a man standing across the street. But whether he was watching them was arguable. Besides, he had a camera hanging from his neck, just like any other tourist.
‘You think I’m paranoid, sí?’ Rafe taunted her. ‘You do not think that, after all this time, I might not recognise a paparazzo when I see one?’ He shook his head. ‘So, will you have lunch with me? If not, I—and my escort—will leave you alone.’
Lily’s lips parted as once again she gave the man, who did indeed appear to be watching them, another quick appraisal. It occurred to her that it might be herself that he was watching and her skin prickled as it had done that evening on the beach.
‘Who is he?’
‘I have no idea.’ Rafe shrugged. ‘He may be working for one of the tabloid newspapers, or perhaps he is DEA, or CIA. I do not care to find out.’
Lily stared at him. ‘But why would either the DEA or the CIA be interested in us?’
Rafe pulled a face. ‘Evidently you do not read the newspapers. Dios, my name was splashed across the headlines for weeks.’
Lily was stunned. She knew the DEA was the United States Drug Enforcement Agency. ‘Are you saying you were involved with drugs?’
‘Mierda! No!’ Rafe didn’t mince his words. ‘But I have no intention of defending myself here. What is your decision?’
Lily hesitated. What she knew she should do was thank him politely for his invitation and walk away.
Yet she couldn’t deny she was tempted.
She found herself saying, ‘All right. I will have lunch with you.’
If only to find out why he’d gone to see her father, she reassured herself staunchly. Not because just looking at him caused a funny feeling in her stomach.
‘Bien.’
Without any further hesitation, Rafe took her arm and steered her along the street.
However, Lily pulled away as soon as she was able and said tersely, ‘But I’d prefer not to eat in a restaurant. I usually have a sandwich in Palmetto Park.’
‘And you are suggesting I should do the same?’ he queried incredulously, and Lily caught her breath.
In khaki cargo pants and a black tee shirt, he looked lean and dark—and dangerous, she thought, her skin prickling again. Was she really thinking of getting involved with this man?
‘That’s up to you,’ she said now, half hoping he would refuse.
But he didn’t. ‘Very well,’ he agreed with a swift glance over his shoulder. ‘You had better tell me where we find this—picnic—lunch.’
Lily started to respond and then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man he had spoken of earlier. He was standing, half hidden by the bole of a palm tree, just a dozen yards away.
‘We...we’re still being observed,’ she said abruptly, realising she hadn’t quite believed him before. ‘That man—the one you mentioned. He’s over there.’
Rafe knew a momentary twinge of impatience. It crossed his mind that he shouldn’t involve her in his affairs. She was too young, for one thing. And did he seriously want another female’s feelings on his conscience?
‘I did warn you,’ he said now, giving the man a passing glance. ‘So perhaps lunch is off, sí? We should just agree to go our own separate ways.’
Lily hesitated. ‘Um...not necessarily,’ she heard herself say with some amazement. Why, when she’d been having such doubts about her involvement with him, wasn’t she seizing this chance to get away?
But then, Oliveira had said he might tell her what was going on with Ray, she defended herself fiercely. Taking a breath, she added, ‘That is, if you’re still willing to join me in the park.’
CHAPTER FIVE
THE COFFEE SHOP where Lily usually bought herself a sandwich and a polystyrene mug of cappuccino was on the other side of the street.
Breaking free of her escort, Lily started to cross th
e road. Only to halt in alarm when Rafe grabbed her arm again and dragged her back.
Out of the path of a speeding minibus that had showed no intention of stopping.
She heard Rafe’s angry words in her ear, his hot breath against the nape of her neck and found she was trembling. She was sure his words were not repeatable, but fortunately she couldn’t understand them.
She didn’t think he was speaking to her, however, and she turned to him with a breathless word of gratitude.
‘Idiota,’ he muttered, after she had stopped shaking. ‘He could have killed you.’
‘But he didn’t,’ said Lily, grateful for his vigilance. ‘I don’t know how to thank you. What I did was stupid. I should have looked both ways.’
‘Sí,’ he agreed, his face still dark with concern. ‘But that—that maniac was not about to stop.’
Rafe grimaced and then, realising she needed reassurance, his expression cleared. ‘It would be such a waste to lose you,’ he added with gentle sensuality. ‘Myers would be devastated, I am sure, and the good padre, your father, would never forgive me.’
The way he was looking at her caused all the oxygen to drain from Lily’s lungs. Although he was no longer touching her, she felt breathless, weak. She kept telling herself it was the result of the near-accident, but she couldn’t look away from his disturbing gaze.
What was there about those hollow cheekbones and that thin-lipped mouth that caused such a visceral reaction inside her? she asked herself incredulously. Why, when she knew she wouldn’t like to make an enemy of this man, was she allowing herself to get involved with him?
‘I think perhaps I should go back to the agency,’ she said now, her voice still a little uneven, but Rafe only arched a mocking brow.
‘You disappoint me,’ he said. ‘I was looking forward to spending more time with you.’
Lily sighed uncertainly. But it would have seemed churlish to abandon him after he’d virtually saved her life, she thought defensively.
‘All right,’ she said, looking up and down the street again before adding, ‘The place where I buy my sandwiches is across the road. If you are certain you want to have lunch with me, we should join the queue.’
The queue?
Rafe scowled as he saw that there was indeed a queue of people waiting outside the coffee shop across the street. And, in the present circumstances, he had no desire to spend the next fifteen minutes waiting in line to buy a greasy burger and an indifferent cup of coffee.
‘Are you sure you would not rather find a small eatery and sit down?’ he asked, aware that, for all her defiant courage, she still looked rather pale.
‘Humour me,’ he went on, aware that her eyes had been drawn to the open neckline of his shirt. The brown column of his throat seemed to intrigue her and he was impatiently aware of his own reaction to her. Running a hand over the triangle of dark hair exposed by his shirt, he said roughly, ‘I had quite a shock, too.’
Lily hesitated. There was no doubt that the idea of standing in a queue for several minutes before then searching for an empty bench in the park was daunting.
Besides, the man with the camera was still watching them and, as she glanced his way, she saw him raise the camera towards them. ‘All right,’ she said quickly, expelling an uneasy sigh. ‘Not least because I don’t like anyone taking my picture without my permission.’
* * *
The eating place Rafe chose was not somewhere Lily had ever been before. Which was a relief. Not that she thought anyone would recognise her with Rafe Oliveira, the man who had left New York apparently under a cloud, and who now owned the exclusive villa at Orchid Point.
For his part, whether the proprietor had recognised him or not, they were given a table inside. Thankfully, they were away from the windows, away from the humidity that had already caused a sheen of sweat to dampen Rafe’s spine.
Or was that his unwilling reaction to the near-accident? Had his stalker taken a picture of that? Whatever, it was frustrating to know that even here, on this exotic island, he couldn’t escape from his past.
But wasn’t he just encouraging more gossip by inviting Lily to have lunch with him? What was there about her that caused him to break the habits of a lifetime? He’d never behaved so recklessly before; never felt so attracted to a woman—a girl, really—who was so totally different from the women he’d known.
Lily refused the wine she was offered and accepted a lime juice spritzer instead. It was a speciality of the island, a mixture of fresh lime juice and soda water. Served over ice in a tall glass, it was the perfect drink for a hot day.
Rafe ordered a beer and then they both chose the seafood salad. Served with warm rolls and a choice of mayonnaise, it was delicious. Much better than the chicken salad sandwich she’d been planning to buy, Lily had to admit.
When they’d been served, Lily met Rafe’s dark eyes with a rueful gaze. ‘This is nice,’ she said, feeling she had to show her gratitude. ‘And I do feel much better now.’
‘That is good.’ Rafe lifted his glass of beer and regarded her over the rim. ‘It could have ended so much differently.’
‘Well, I could have been knocked down by that minibus,’ she agreed fervently. ‘You saved my life.’
‘What I really meant was that our picture might have appeared in the local newspaper, no?’ Rafe remarked drily. ‘I do not think Father—Reverend—Fielding would have approved of that.’
Lily was sure he wouldn’t. Her father would be bound to think the worst. She bit her lip. ‘You don’t think the photographer would follow us here?’
‘He might,’ said Rafe thoughtfully. ‘But I can assure you he will not come into the restaurant.’ Rafe grimaced. ‘That would entail spending money that they are not being paid.’
Lily shook her head. ‘Don’t you mind?’
Rafe groaned. ‘Of course I mind,’ he responded wearily. ‘But I am used to it. And, hopefully, sooner or later he will realise he is wasting his time following me and find some other poor fool to hound.’
‘How did he know where you lived?’ Lily asked without thinking, and then knew a moment’s embarrassment at her own audacity. ‘I mean,’ she murmured uncomfortably, ‘why is he still interested in you?’
‘Because I am so uninteresting, sí?’ Rafe teased her mockingly, but this time Lily didn’t take the bait.
‘I shouldn’t have asked,’ she said ruefully. ‘It’s really nothing to do with me.’ She paused and then, changing the subject, ‘This salad is delicious, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, Lily!’ Rafe sighed. ‘Do not look at me like that. You can ask me anything—within reason. As for why I am of such interest to the paparazzi, I fear my ex-wife is to blame.’
Lily stared at him. ‘Your ex-wife?’
‘Yes. You did not know I had been married?’
‘I know nothing about you, señor,’ she replied, her breath quickening a little. That was not absolutely true but he didn’t need to know that.
‘Well, I was married. For a few short and—dare I say—unhappy years?’ He shrugged. ‘And please, I wish you would call me Rafe. Or I shall have to call you Ms Fielding, no?’
Lily lifted a crusty roll and bit into it thoughtfully. ‘I still don’t understand—’ she began, and then broke off when she realised she was being nosy again.
‘Sarah—my ex-wife—was responsible for me being arrested on drug charges in the first place,’ Rafe told her, guessing what her question had been going to be. ‘When we separated, she swore she would get back at me. And she did.’
Lily’s lips parted. ‘But that’s awful!’
‘I fear it is human nature,’ said Rafe, raising his beer to his lips again. He emptied the glass and then summoned the waiter before nodding towards Lily’s half-empty tumbler. ‘Would you like another of those?’
‘Oh—no, thank you.’
Lily shook her head, wondering if it was only her imagination, or were the other occupants of the café staring at them now? Perhaps it
was just the peremptory way Rafe had summoned the waiter. Whatever, she tried to ignore them and concentrate on her meal.
There was silence for a few moments and then Rafe spoke again. ‘Your father is an interesting man, is he not?’
Lily blinked. Although earlier she’d been curious to know what the two men had spoken about, other things had distracted her.
‘If...if you say so,’ she murmured, casting a surreptitious glance at the waiter who had brought him another beer. She bit her lip. ‘Thank you for not telling him where I was when you found me the other evening.’
‘I told him that you were on your way back to the rectory when I encountered you,’ declared Rafe carelessly. ‘Was that not the truth?’
Lily hesitated. ‘Well, yes. But, like you, he would not have approved of me swimming alone.’
Rafe shrugged, lifting his beer and resting his free arm on the table. Despite her interest in the conversation, Lily couldn’t help noticing how brown his flesh was, taut and muscular, with a scattering of dark hair above the leather strap of a simple Patek Philippe watch.
His fingers were long, his hands large and capable. Despite what she knew of him—and that mostly from Dee-Dee—he did not look as if he’d spent all his time behind a desk. Those hands were strong and powerful. Without them, she might not be sitting here enjoying her lunch.
A shiver passed down her spine at the memory of his hands against her skin. He had gripped her arm so strongly. She might well have a bruise in the morning. But that was nothing compared to what might have happened if he hadn’t acted so quickly.
She suddenly became aware that he was watching her too and, despite her determination not to be disconcerted again, her colour deepened. ‘Um...why did you want to see my father?’ she asked, desperate to escape the intimacy of his gaze. ‘You are not a member of the Anglican church, are you?’
‘Hardly.’ Rafe’s eyes were far too knowing, but he chose to answer her question. ‘My parents—my mother is dead, but my father is still alive and lives in Miami—were good Catholics. We lived in Havana until I was about eight years old and—’ his lips twisted ‘—I made my confession regularly, like all the members of my family.’