Summer Surrender. Sarah Morgan

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      ‘I have a change of clothes in my bag,’ she said hoarsely, but still he didn’t move, the temperature between them rising to intolerable levels as he held her gaze.

      Then he released his own seat belt and stood up. ‘Good.’

      She thought he was smiling, but she couldn’t be sure because he was talking to the pilot in rapid Italian and then the door of the plane opened and sunlight and warmth filled the cabin.

      Alessio turned, his hair gleaming blue-black under the burning sun, more shockingly handsome than any man had a right to be. ‘Welcome to Kingfisher Cay.’

      So he was handsome, she’d always known that.

      Damn the man.

      Feeling hot, sticky and desperately unsettled, Lindsay dumped her small overnight bag on the floor of the villa and burst out laughing. When Alessio had told her she would be staying in a villa she’d imagined that she’d be sharing something relatively modest with several other people. Instead, the smiling staff member who had met their seaplane had led her to a private villa. A villa just for her. And her overnight bag looked as out of place as she felt.

      The spacious living room opened directly onto the beach and was decorated in a sophisticated palette of cool colours that created an atmosphere of restful calm. The bedroom was dominated by an enormous teak four-poster bed, draped in acres of light creamy muslin and dressed with piles of silk cushions in elegant, restrained shades.

      Lindsay stared around her in disbelief, so distracted by her surroundings that she forgot she was hot, sticky and desperately uncomfortable. She forgot about the hot burn of sexual awareness that had been with her ever since she’d arrived at Alessio’s office. She even forgot that she still hadn’t managed to contact Ruby. She was so stunned by the sheer luxury of the villa that for a moment she simply stood there.

      What was she doing here?

      Had this really been Ruby’s life? It was hardly surprising she’d loved her job if this was one of the perks.

      She strolled through a door and found herself in a lavish marble bathroom that again opened directly onto the beach. Taking in the multispray shower and the array of exclusive toiletries, Lindsay shook her head.

      It was possible to lie in the bath and stare at the palm trees swaying on the beach.

      If staying here was work, what did Alessio Capelli do for entertainment?

      Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned and saw a pretty blonde girl dressed in a white uniform standing in the doorway.

      ‘I’m Natalya. I’m your housekeeper for the duration of your stay at Kingfisher Cay. Anything you want, you have only to ask. I expect you’re hot and tired after your journey. Would you like to change while I unpack for you?’

      Unpack? Unpack what, exactly?

      Lindsay’s eyes slid to her bag. It sat forlorn and abandoned in the centre of the polished wooden floor. ‘I don’t have much luggage. I wasn’t expecting—This was a bit of an—impulse trip.’

      As if anyone would come to a place like this on impulse. Even for the elite few fortunate enough to be able to afford it, it would be a rare treat. For the rest of the population, the silky sand and turquoise sea of Kingfisher Cay would never be more than a picture to drool over in an exotic travel brochure. Except that this place didn’t feature in travel brochures.

      Natalya didn’t appear to find the absence of luggage at all odd. Obviously accustomed to the odd behaviour of the rich and famous, she simply smiled. ‘We pride ourselves in being able to provide anything and everything you need. If you like, you can give me a list. Or I can simply provide you with what I think you’ll need for a happy and comfortable stay here.’

      Lindsay smiled at that. ‘You’re even prepared to do my thinking for me?’

      ‘We’re used to living here,’ Natalya murmured. ‘We know what you’re likely to need.’

      ‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble. I’m sure you have plenty of other guests.’ More important guests.

      ‘We have a staff ratio of eight to one.’

      ‘One member of staff for eight guests?’ Lindsay was thinking that seemed like a lot when the girl smiled.

      ‘Eight members of staff for each guest.’

      Stunned into silence, Lindsay simply gaped at her. ‘Oh—’

      ‘Signor Capelli asked that you meet him at the Beach Club for a drink in twenty minutes.’

      ‘Right.’ Lindsay looked at her helplessly. ‘And where is that, exactly?’

      ‘If you come to the front of your villa when you’re ready, I’ll direct you.’

      Alessio nursed his drink and stared moodily at the smooth turquoise ocean as he contemplated the case. He wasn’t surprised that the ‘A’ list Hollywood star wanted a divorce. What surprised him was that the man had been foolish enough to marry his co-star in the first place.

      She had ‘opportunist’ written all over her particularly stunning face.

      What was it about a beautiful woman that turned otherwise sensible men into fools?

      A yacht drifted across his line of vision, the sails providing an elaborate splash of colour against the endless blue.

      ‘Alessio?’

      Irritated at being disturbed, he turned his head and found himself staring straight into the grave, serious eyes of Lindsay Lockheart.

      Hovering awkwardly in her sensible navy skirt and tailored shirt, she looked as out of place as a sparrow suddenly finding itself in the midst of a flock of exotic birds.

      Controlling or not, she must really love her sister, Alessio mused as he acknowledged just how uncomfortable she was and how little she evidently wanted to be here.

      ‘I thought you were going to change.’

      ‘I did change.’ Startled, she glanced down at herself, as if checking that her clothes hadn’t suddenly disappeared. ‘This is a different outfit.’

      Alessio contemplated the formal navy skirt with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. ‘Clearly you consider it prudent to always be ready for a funeral.’

      Soft colour highlighted her cheekbones. ‘I’m dressed for work. I gave a television interview in London just before I flew to see you in Rome. Obviously at the time I didn’t know I was going to need clothes for a warm climate.’

      On the surface she appeared brisk and businesslike, but as she pulled out the chair opposite and sat down Alessio noticed the tremor in her hands. And she wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. Instead she placed her notepad on the table in front of her and opened it, clearly relieved to have something to focus on that didn’t include him. ‘Right. Let’s get started.’

      Unable to resist the opportunity to tease her, Alessio lounged back in his chair. ‘What, no foreplay?’

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