His Forbidden Passion. Anne Mather

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СКАЧАТЬ was obviously aware that something wasn’t quite right, but Cleo was in no mood to explain things to him now.

      ‘Just a misunderstanding,’ she said, pulling out her woolly hat again and putting it on. ‘Shall we go?’

      ‘But who was that man?’ Eric asked, as she turned out the light and locked her door. ‘Does he work for the education authority?’

      As if, thought Cleo bitterly, and then wondered if it wouldn’t be easier to pass Dominic Montoya off as someone she’d met at work.

      But no, she was no good at lying. ‘He’s not important,’ she said, starting down the stairs so that Eric was compelled to follow her. ‘I hope it doesn’t rain. I haven’t brought an umbrella.’

      Cleo noticed the car as soon as she came out of school the following afternoon.

      It was already getting dark. A slight drizzle was falling and the huge black SUV idling at the kerb just outside the playground entrance did look slightly sinister.

      The children had long gone, so she knew she didn’t have to worry about infant predators. Just an adult one, perhaps, with his quarry already in his sights.

      Putting up her umbrella, she angled it so that she couldn’t see the SUV any more and, stepping onto the pavement, turned determinedly towards the bus stop. She’d timed her exit to coincide with the bus’s timetable. A woman alone didn’t linger long in this area, particularly after dark.

      The SUV was facing in the opposite direction, so she reckoned that if her bus was on time she ought to be able to board it before the car turned round.

      But she hadn’t accounted for the fact that the vehicle might simply use its reverse gear. And the road was quiet enough, so it presented no danger.

      Even so, the main thoroughfare frequented by the city’s buses was just ahead and she quickened her pace. She didn’t want to run, even though every nerve in her body was urging her to do so.

      Then the car stopped just ahead of her, the driver’s door was pushed open and a man got out. A tall man, wearing jeans and a sports jacket over a black T-shirt. He was at once familiar and unfamiliar, and Cleo found she was clutching her shoulder bag to her chest, as if for protection.

      ‘Hi,’ he said, apparently indifferent to the weather, rain sparkling on his dark hair in the light from the street lamp. He came round the bonnet of the car to block her path. ‘I’m sorry. Did I scare you?’

      Cleo expelled a nervous breath. ‘No. Why would you think that?’ she asked sarcastically. ‘I’m often stalked by strange men after school.’

      Dominic sighed. ‘I wasn’t stalking you.’

      ‘What would you call it, then?’

      ‘I was waiting for you,’ he said mildly. ‘Come on. I’ll give you a lift home.’

      ‘That’s not necessary.’

      ‘Dammit, I know it’s not necessary!’ exclaimed Dominic tersely. He blew out a breath, calming himself. ‘OK. What would you rather do? Go to a pub and have a drink? Or come back to the hotel and speak to Serena? It’s all the same to me.’

      ‘And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?’ Cleo asked, aware that the words sounded childish even to her ears.

      ‘Oh, please…’ Dominic counted to five before continuing, ‘This isn’t going to go away, Cleo. Your grandfather has terminal cancer. Do you want him to go to his grave knowing his only granddaughter was too stubborn—or too proud—to admit that she might be wrong?’

      Cleo met his gaze defiantly for a moment, and then she looked away. ‘No,’ she mumbled reluctantly.

      ‘So what’s it to be?’

      ‘What do you mean?’ She was wary.

      ‘Your place, a bar, or the hotel? It’s your call.’ Dominic glanced about him. ‘Make up your mind. I’m getting wet.’ Cleo hesitated.

      If she took him back to the apartment, there was a risk that Norah might come home early. And so far she hadn’t had a chance to tell her friend about his visit the night before.

      But equally, she had no desire to go to his hotel room. What if Serena wasn’t there? That troubled her, too, more than she wanted to admit.

      ‘Um—perhaps we could have a drink,’ she murmured at last, and Dominic breathed a sigh of relief.

      ‘OK,’ he said, ‘where? Is there somewhere near here?’

      ‘No, not here,’ said Cleo quickly, and Dominic arched a quizzical brow.

      ‘No?’

      ‘You wouldn’t like any of the pubs around here,’ Cleo assured him firmly, looping the strap of her bag over her shoulder again, almost poking him in the eye with her umbrella as she did so.

      But she didn’t want to have to explain to any of her colleagues, who might be lurking in the saloon bar of the King’s Head, what she was doing having a drink with a—well, sexy stranger, who was evidently far out of her usual sphere of escorts.

      ‘Where, then?’

      He sounded impatient and Cleo licked dry lips before saying awkwardly, ‘There’s a hotel at the next crossroads. Could we go there?’

      ‘You tell me.’ Dominic swung open the passenger-side door. ‘D’you want to get in?’

      ‘Oh—yes. Thanks.’ Cleo closed her umbrella without causing any more damage and climbed into the front of the car.

      It smelled deliciously of warmth and leather, and when Dominic got in beside her she detected his shaving lotion also. It wasn’t obvious; just pleasantly subtle. But it created an intimacy around them that caused Cleo to shift a little nervously in her seat.

      ‘Is something wrong?’

      Dominic had noticed and was looking her way now. Cleo managed a convulsive shake of her head.

      ‘Just getting comfortable,’ she murmured, far too aware of the taut fabric moulding his thigh just inches from her own.

      She endeavoured to concentrate on the vehicle. It was superbly sprung, superbly comfortable, and Cleo was half sorry she was only going to enjoy it for such a short time. But perhaps it was just as well. She was far too aware of the man beside her.

      Her brother!

      But no. There had to be some other explanation. A surreptitious glance in Dominic’s direction assured her that they were nothing alike. They were both dark-haired, of course, but so were at least a third of the population. And he owed the colour of his skin to the heat of a Caribbean sun, whereas she—

      ‘Is this the place you meant?’

      She’d hardly been aware of them moving, let alone that he’d driven in the right direction and was now slowing for the turn into the grounds of the hotel she’d mentioned.

      ‘Oh—yes,’ СКАЧАТЬ