In the Australian's Bed. Miranda Lee

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      Before this, she’d only done behind-the-scenes jobs around the resort such as cooking and cleaning, hardly esteem-building activities. Not that she’d had much self-esteem by then. Her stay-at-home years when Alex had been a baby and a toddler had gradually eroded her confidence and turned her from an outgoing girl into a reserved, almost shy woman.

      Now, suddenly, she had blossomed again, thoroughly enjoying the social interaction and yes, the admiration—however meaningless and fleeting—of the opposite sex.

      She’d begun taking care with her appearance again, exercising off some of the extra pounds which had crept on over the years and paying more attention to her hair, her clothes and her make-up.

      Of course, her father had noticed her transformation, plus the attention of the male tourists and guests. And yes, of course, he’d commented and criticised. But this time she’d put him firmly in his place, telling him she was a grown woman and he was to keep out of her personal and private life.

      Not that there’d been one. Despite her father suspecting otherwise, she hadn’t taken up any of the none too subtle offers she’d received from the many men who now asked her out. She didn’t even want to go out with them, let alone go to bed with them. Maybe it was crazy to use her teenage experience with Jake as a basis for comparison, but none of these men had made her feel even a fraction of what she’d felt when she first met Jake.

      Of course, Angelina understood that the intensity of her feelings for Jake had largely been because of her age. He’d represented everything that a young, virginal girl found wildly exciting.

      Angelina had no doubt that if Jake himself walked back into her life at this moment, she would not feel anything like she had back then. She no longer found long-haired, tattooed males even remotely attractive, for starters. The sight of him might make her heart race, but only with fear, fear of the bad influence he might have on her highly impressionable and very vulnerable son.

      Thinking of this reminded her that, sooner or later, she would come face to face with Alex’s father again, possibly sooner rather than later, if she started those phone calls tomorrow evening.

      The thought bothered her a great deal.

      ‘Damn you, Jake,’ she muttered as she stood up and marched across her bedroom towards her en suite bathroom. ‘Sixteen years, and you’re still causing me trouble!’

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE yellow Ferrari caught Angelina’s eye the moment it turned from the main road into the Ambrosia Estate. She stopped what she was doing—opening a bottle of wine at one of the outdoor tables—and watched the brightly coloured sports car crunch to a halt in the nearby car park, her lips pursing into a silent whistle when a dark-haired hunk in designer jeans, pale blue polo shirt and wraparound sunglasses climbed out from behind the wheel.

      What a gorgeous-looking guy!

      Angelina’s gaze shifted over to the passenger side. She could see another person sitting in the car but couldn’t make out any details. The sun was shining on the windscreen. But Angelina was willing to bet on it being a pretty blonde. Men like that invariably had pretty blondes on their arms.

      The hunk hitched his jeans up onto his hips as hunks often did. Not because his clothes really needed straightening, she’d come to realise during her recent people-watching years. It was a subconscious body-language thing, a ploy to draw female attention to that part of his body.

      And it worked. Angelina certainly looked, as did the two middle-aged ladies she was serving. Both widows, their names were Judith and Vivien. They were on holiday together and had been staying at the Ambrosia Estate for a few days.

      ‘Cocky devil,’ Judith said with a wry smile in her voice when the hunk started striding round the front of the yellow Ferrari in the direction of the passenger side.

      ‘He has every right to be,’ Vivien remarked. ‘Just look at that car.’

      Judith snorted. ‘Don’t you mean, just look at that body?’

      Angelina had actually stopped looking at the hunk’s broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, long-legged body and was frowning over his walk. It was a most distinctive walk, somewhere between a strut and a swagger. He moved as if he was bouncing along on the balls of his feet.

      ‘Jake…’

      The word escaped her lips before she could help it, and her two lady customers immediately looked up at her.

      ‘You know the guy with the yellow sports car?’ Judith asked, grey eyes narrowed. She was the sharper of the two ladies.

      ‘No,’ Angelina denied, dismissing the crazy notion that the man could possibly be Jake. ‘But his walk reminded me of someone I used to know.’

      ‘A sexy someone, I’ll bet.’

      Angelina had to smile. ‘Very.’ She pulled out the cork on the bottle of chilled Verdelho and poured both ladies a full glass. Each one immediately lifted their glass to their lips. They did like their wine, those two.

      The emergence of a grey-haired lady from the passenger seat of the Ferrari surprised the three of them.

      ‘Good lord!’ Judith exclaimed. ‘Not quite what I was expecting. So what do you reckon, girls? His mother? Or do we cast lover boy in the role of gigolo?’

      ‘Oh, surely not,’ Vivien said with a delicate little shudder.

      ‘You’re right,’ Judith went on. ‘She’s much too old to be bothered with that kind of thing. But she’s not his mother, either. Too old for that as well. Possibly a great-aunt. Or a client. He might be her financial adviser. She looks as rich as he does.’

      ‘I’ll leave you two ladies to speculate,’ Angelina said as she placed the bottle in the portable wine cooler by their table. ‘Wilomena will be over shortly to take your orders. Enjoy your meal.’ And your gossiping, she added silently.

      As she made her way back inside, Angelina threw another glimpse over her shoulder at the man and woman who were now walking together along the path that led over the small footbridge, past the outdoor dining area and along to the main door of the restaurant. The hunk was holding the woman’s arm but his head was moving from side to side as though he was looking for something. Or someone.

      Angelina found herself hurrying out of his line of sight, tension gripping her insides. Her actions—plus her sudden anxiety—really irritated her. As if it could possibly be Jake! How fanciful could she get?

      That’s what you get when you start thinking about ghosts from the past, Angelina. You conjure one up!

      She resisted the temptation to watch the hunk’s approach through the picture-glass windows of the restaurant, though she did go straight to the counter where they kept the reservation book, her eyes dropping to run over the names that had been booked for lunch. There was no Winters amongst them.

      Of course not. Why would there be? The hunk just walked like Jake, that was all. OK, so he was built a bit like Jake as well. And he had similar-coloured hair.

      Dark brown hair, however, was hardly unusual. On top of that, this guy’s hair was cropped very short, almost in a military style. Jake СКАЧАТЬ