Thunder On The Reef. Sara Craven

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СКАЧАТЬ sleeved, open-necked shirt, striped in charcoal and white. There was a thin platinum watch on his left wrist, too. He looked a combination of toughness and affluence.

      Ross turned back to her. ‘You shouldn’t have any more trouble there,’ he said.

      ‘No,’ she acknowledged stiffly, adding a reluctant, ‘Thank you.’

      His grin was sardonic. ‘I bet that hurt.’

      She ignored that. ‘What are you doing here?’

      ‘This is a good restaurant. I like to eat.’

      ‘Oh.’ There was no real answer to that, she thought, nonplussed.

      ‘Also,’ he went on softly. ‘We have some unfinished business to conduct.’ He pulled up a chair and sat down, signalling the waiter to bring him a Bourbon and water.

      Macy’s heart began to thud apprehensively. She said, ‘Rather an expensive place to do business, surely.’

      ‘Oh, I’ve been able to afford something better than hamburger joints for some time.’ The cool aquamarine gaze flickered over her, lingering openly and shamelessly on the thrust of her breasts against the white silk top.

      Macey felt the breath catch in her throat, and the tremor of an almost forgotten weakness invade her stomach. She struggled to keep her voice level. ‘Of course. I was forgetting.’

      ‘No, darling,’ he said gently. ‘You haven’t forgotten a thing, and neither, I promise you, have I.’

      Her uneasiness increased, and she was thankful to see the waiter approaching.

      ‘Your table’s ready, Miz Landin.’ He turned to her companion. ‘How yo’ doin’, Mister Ross. You dinin’ here tonight?’

      ‘Yes, with Miss—er—Landin here.’ Ross’s oblique glance dared her to object. ‘Just a steak, George, please. Medium rare with a side salad.’

      When George had gone, Macy said thickly, ‘You have one hell of a nerve.’

      ‘Since childhood,’ he agreed. ‘But as I told your would-be admirer we were together, we can hardly eat in isolation.’ He paused. ‘Unless you’d prefer to join his party, after all. They look like a fun-loving bunch.’

      Macy gave him a fulminating glance, and stalked ahead of him into the restaurant.

      Their table, to her annoyance, was in a secluded corner, lit by a small lamp under a pretty glass shade. The centrepiece was orchids, cream edged with flame, swimming in a shallow bowl. Macy sat down, her lips compressed at the overt romanticism of it all, aware, also, of the resentful gaze of Loud Shirt and his friends a few tables away.

      At least she’d been spared any further harassment from that quarter, she thought, but at what cost to her own peace of mind? Instead she had to dine with a man who’d rejected her love, and whose mercenary heartlessness was almost beyond belief.

      ‘So, why Miss Landin?’ Ross asked, as he took his seat. ‘Are you travelling incognito for some reason?’

      Macy gave a shrug, trying to sound casual. ‘Not particularly. I like to use my mother’s name sometimes.’

      ‘I’m sure you do.’ There was an odd note in his voice which she found it impossible to decipher. But that was the least of her problems, she thought grimly.

      Her appetite seemed to have deserted her, but to cancel dinner would give Ross some kind of psychological advantage, which she couldn’t allow. She had to convince him—and herself too—that his presence was a matter of indifference to her.

      So, she’d eat this meal if it choked her. As well it might.

      ‘The chef’s name is Clyde,’ Ross said, watching her push her first course round her plate. ‘He’s a sensitive soul, and it’ll spoil his night if you send one of his specialities back to the kitchen.’

      ‘Oh.’ She gave him a hostile look and dug her fork into the puff pastry crust. To her annoyance, it melted in the mouth, and the asparagus tips were ambrosial.

      ‘I’d say this holiday of yours is long overdue,’ he went on. ‘You have that indoor look—very unhealthy.’

      ‘As a matter of fact,’ she offered curtly, ‘I’ve never felt better in my life.’

      ‘Then you should be extremely worried.’ Ross poured the wine. ‘For one thing, you’re like a cat on hot bricks.’

      ‘Is it really any wonder?’ She put down her fork. ‘I thought I’d made it clear you’re the last person in the world I ever wanted to meet again.’

      He lifted his glass in a mock toast. ‘I apologise for my inconvenient existence.’ He paused, his glance speculative. ‘You sound incredibly bitter, Macy. They’re not all bad memories, surely.’

      ‘Not for you, perhaps,’ she snapped.

      ‘Or for you, my lovely hypocrite. ‘ A reminiscent smile played about the corners of his mouth. ‘We had our moments.’ He leaned forward, his eyes holding hers across the table. ‘Shall I jog your memory?’

      ‘No,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I don’t...’

      ‘That sexy French film we went to see,’ he said softly. ‘My God, you were so turned on, you practically dragged me back to the flat. We were undressing each other on the way up the stairs.’

      ‘Stop it,’ she hissed desperately.

      ‘And then there was that evening at the bistro round the corner,’ he went on relentlessly. ‘When the guitarist played all your favourite love songs, and a girl came round, selling roses.’

      He touched the edge of one of the orchids with the tip of his finger.

      She remembered the rose he’d bought her, crimson and long-stemmed. In bed that night he’d teased her nipples with its dusky velvet petals...

      Her throat closed.

      ‘Enjoy your trip down memory lane,’ she said harshly. ‘It does nothing for me.’

      ‘No?’ His smiling gaze shifted again to the revealing outline of her breasts. ‘You don’t seem entirely unmoved, darling.’

      ‘You disgust me.’ She pushed her plate away.

      ‘Then I’ll try and control my baser urges for the rest of the meal, at least.’

      He paused. ‘So—why Fortuna, Macy?’

      Her heart jumped. She had not, she thought grimly, been expecting that. She swallowed. ‘Why not? I’ve been working very hard. As you say, I needed a break.’

      ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But unless you’re into big-game fishing, the island hasn’t a great deal to offer.’

      ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’ I’m after a different kind of game, she added silently. Mr Boniface Hilliard himself. She shrugged, allowing herself a negligent smile. ‘But СКАЧАТЬ