The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHIN

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      It all clicked into place in an instant, and Hannah rose to her feet in one angry movement, extracted a note from her purse, then flung it down onto the table and walked out into the street.

      Dammit, she should have seen it coming! Luc played a tune to the highest bidder. In this instance, Camille. Another step down a diabolical path towards Camille’s main goal…Miguel. Now, there was photographic evidence Hannah had shared a meal with Luc. It didn’t take a genius to work out how Camille intended to use the photograph.

      A car horn blared, and she halted mid-step. Dear God, she whispered shakily as realisation hit that she’d stepped off the footpath onto the road. Get a grip!

      Minutes later she entered the boutique, caught Elaine’s surprised look, and offered a humourless smile. ‘That bad, huh?’

      ‘Are you okay?’

      Hannah attempted to downplay the past thirty minutes. ‘Something disagreed with me.’

      ‘Or someone?’

      ‘You’re good,’ Hannah accorded wryly. ‘Any problems while I was gone?’

      ‘I sold two shirts, a scarf, and took two orders.’

      ‘Well done.’

      ‘You weren’t away long. Did you get to eat?’

      ‘I lost my appetite.’ Wasn’t that the truth!

      It was after six when she arrived home, and she ate the meal Sofia had prepared for her, then she retreated to the study and keyed in the digits to connect with Miguel’s mobile, only to get his voice-mail.

      Maybe he and Alejandro were out to dinner. She left a message, then took a shower and changed into jeans and a singlet top.

      Her mother called, and Hannah accepted an invitation to dinner the following evening. They chatted for a while, catching up on each other’s news, and afterwards she watched a television movie before opting to indulge herself by reading in bed.

      It was almost eleven when the sudden peal of the telephone startled her into dropping the book, and she caught up the receiver, uttered a brief curse as it slipped from her fingers.

      Seconds later she managed an articulate greeting, and heard Miguel’s husky voice on the line.

      ‘Did I wake you?’

      ‘No,’ Hannah said at once. ‘I was reading.’

      His soft chuckle set all her fine body hairs standing on end. ‘You left a message to call.’

      ‘I—’ She hesitated, then opted for the banal. ‘How are things going?’

      ‘What is it?’ Miguel demanded in a dangerously quiet tone.

      ‘What makes you think something’s wrong?’

      ‘Querida,’ he drawled with deceptive mildness. ‘Don’t stall.’

      ‘Luc came into the café opposite the boutique during my lunch break.’ She could almost see his features harden. ‘I refused to join him.’

      ‘There’s more to the story?’

      ‘Try having him follow me, sit down at the same table after I’d ordered, then, just as the waiter delivered the food, a photographer appears from nowhere and captured the two of us apparently sharing a meal.’

      ‘He set you up.’

      ‘I should have seen it coming,’ Hannah said wretchedly.

      ‘I’ll take care of him.’ His voice was tensile steel and just as dangerous.

      ‘What are you going to do?’

      Miguel smiled grimly on the other end of the line. ‘Ensure he doesn’t come near you again.’ He waited a beat. ‘Or he will answer to me.’

      Hannah shivered. ‘Miguel—’

      ‘Tomorrow there will be someone to shadow your every move.’

      Comprehension dawned. ‘I don’t need a bodyguard!’

      There was a brief silence, then he said hardly, ‘My decision, Hannah.’

      ‘Shouldn’t it also be mine?’

      ‘Accept it as a protective precaution.’

      ‘And if I choose not to?’ she pursued, angered by his high-handedness.

      ‘The bodyguard stays.’

      She took a deep breath and released it slowly. ‘I don’t like tyrannical men.’

      ‘Tough,’ Miguel reiterated succinctly. ‘Alejandro can wrap up the deal. I’ll be on the late afternoon flight Wednesday.’

      Now she was getting steamed. ‘Don’t cut an important business deal short on my account.’

      ‘You, amante, are more important than any business deal.’

      ‘Me, or my vested interest in the Martinez half of the Sanmar corporation?’

      ‘It’s as well the breadth of a continent separates us,’ Miguel declared with chilling softness, ‘or I would take you to task.’

      ‘For daring to speak the truth?’

      She had the distinct impression he was actively controlling his temper. ‘It will keep.’

      Hannah had had enough. ‘Goodnight, Miguel.’ She cut the connection, and replaced the receiver.

      Overbearing, autocratic man! A bodyguard? Was he mad?

      She picked up the book and tried to get back into the characters, the story, only to close the cover and toss it down onto the bed.

      A protective precaution, indeed! Her teeth worried the soft part of her lower lip. Luc was unlikely to do her physical harm. She doubted he’d risk life or limb or arrest, no matter what price Camille offered him. Or could she be wrong?

      It wasn’t a comfortable thought, and one that kept her awake long after she’d switched off the bedside lamp.

      Dreams invaded her subconscious, a series of scary sequences where she was mysteriously pushed from behind into the path of an oncoming vehicle, and worse, driving a car with brakes that didn’t respond when she most needed them.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      HANNAH was in the middle of eating breakfast when the ’phone rang, and she answered it on the third ring.

      ‘Buenos días.’ Miguel’s faintly accented voice curled round her nerve-ends СКАЧАТЬ