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‘But what’s he doing here? Did you invite him? Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know you knew him. When did he arrive?’
‘He’s here because somebody in one of my offices screwed up,’ he muttered. At least Grant was good for one thing—taking Andy’s mind off his reaction to her new hairstyle. ‘I did not invite him—I have never met the man before. They arrived when you were burning up the phone talking to your friend Chrissie in Vancouver; he’s rented the cottage for two weeks—’
‘And the lady with him—’
Logan snorted. Lady! That was a joke.
‘—she must be his latest girlfriend. Ooh,’ she squealed, ‘he must’ve dumped Felicia Mosscov already. Wait till I tell Chrissie!’ She swivelled back to the window again and all but climbed up onto the sink, to get a better view. ‘But this one—she looks way cool, Daddy!’ She turned again, and this time her eyes were veiled, but behind the veil there was a spark that set off a warning bell in Logan’s head. ‘I think I’ll go for a walk.’ She made for the door.
Logan snaked out an arm and caught her by the tail of her shirt. ‘Young lady,’ he said, ‘you will do no such thing. I don’t want you talking to these people. The man’s got no morals, and as for the woman—’
‘I don’t plan to talk to them,’ Andy said smoothly. ‘I won’t.’ She grimaced. ‘Do you think I’d want Zach Grant to see me with my hair like this?’ She leaned up and kissed her father on the jaw. ‘OK, the cut was a mistake, but when we go back to Vancouver I’ll get it styled properly. Pax?’
Pax. It was what Bethany had always said when they’d had one of their teasing arguments and she’d wanted her own way. Andy knew it, had always known it, and played it like an expert. He had no defence against it. Against the memories.
‘Pax.’ He managed a grin as he ruffled the dark curly disaster. ‘But get back here in half an hour and we’ll eat. How was Chrissie, by the way?’
Andy called back over her shoulder, ‘Fine; she and her folks are coming by this way one day next week—they’re going to spend a couple of nights at their cabin on Galiano and Chrissie’s allowed to invite me along. Can I go? I told her yes, I knew it’d be fine.’
She was gone before he could answer, and his ‘Yeah, that’ll be OK’ bounced back at him from the kitchen walls.
‘Zach...’
‘Mmm?’
Sara looked up at him uncertainly. ‘I have the oddest feeling somebody’s watching us.’
Zach took her hand and swung it as they walked along the beach, just below a stand of trees. ‘Somebody is,’ he said. ‘We’re being followed.’
‘Why didn’t you say something?’
‘It’s just a teenager. I spotted the kid up there in the trees, a few minutes ago. Probably holidaying in one of the properties further along. I believe there are four or five other houses on the island.’ Zach yawned. ‘Let’s go back now, honey. I’m going to hit the sack early. I was up at five today, and I need to be out of here again at the crack of dawn tomorrow.’
‘Sure. Boy or girl?’
‘Boy or girl what?’
‘The teenager.’
‘Oh. Girl. Punky haircut.’
‘Where exactly did you see her?’
Zach looked round, scanned the treed area. ‘Over there...but she’s gone. Not nervous, are you?’
‘Good heavens, no. I haven’t a nervous bone in my body.’
‘That’s what I thought...otherwise I’d have rented you a de luxe condo where you’d have crowds of people around.’
Sara shuddered. ‘I’ve had my fill of de luxe, Zach. And I like to have my own space. Need it right now, actually... so the cottage is great. No frills. Back to basics. Just perfect. I really do appreciate you and Mom setting this up for me. Ever since I found out about Travis and—’ her throat tightened and she couldn’t get the words out ‘—you know... I somehow haven’t been able to get myself together enough to organise myself out of a paper bag!’
‘We’ve both been worried about you. But now that that rotter’s finally legally out of your life you can start to put the pieces together again.’
They’d reached the cottage door. Zach opened it, and stood back to let Sara pass.
She glanced around again, just before she went inside, and that was when she saw the girl.
The teenager was peering at them from behind an arbutus tree. The moment she realised Sara had spotted her she slipped out of sight, elusive as a forest nymph.
A leggy little thing, Sara mused, and pretty—except for the unfortunate haircut!
‘You’re smiling,’ Zach said. ‘What’s up?’
‘Oh...that girl. I saw her...but she’s gone now.’
‘Probably the last you’ll see of her.’ Zach put his hand in the small of her back and nudged her inside the cottage. ‘Young kid like that...what could she find to interest her in a couple of old fogeys like us?’
Next morning, the sound of a motor boat woke Logan.
He grunted, flung his arms out over the mattress, and squinted at his bedside clock.
It wasn’t even six! Who the devil was making that racket before the birds had even started their dawn chorus?
Flinging himself out of bed, he stumbled, naked, across to the window overlooking the Straits, and yanked up the venetian blinds.
Eyes still bleary with sleep, he peered out. And blinked when he saw that the white cabin cruiser was no longer tied up at the dock. It was heading away fast in the direction of the mainland.
Deep satisfaction immediately followed his initial moment of surprise—deep satisfaction and a relish that was almost malicious. Had the cabin been too spartan for Zach Grant’s sybaritic tastes? Or had it been the haughty blonde who had found its shabby bareness intolerable? Whatever—Logan ran his fingers through his tousled hair and grinned—they were gone.
Hallelujah!
Fired with a sudden burst of energy, he crossed to the bathroom and snatched up a pair of swimming trunks from the towel rail. He’d go down there right now and remove their garbage—people like them always left garbage: empty bottles, unwashed glasses, overflowing ashtrays, soiled sheets...and worse. Contempt curled his upper lip.
Afterwards, he’d go for a swim off the dock.
The water would be icy; but it might help wash away his feeling of profound distaste at the thought of the cottage having been used as a love nest.
Sara had planned to return to her bed after seeing Zach off, but by the time she’d walked back to the cottage from the jetty the chilly morning air had slapped her wide awake.
So instead she made for the smaller bedroom which Zach had used; she tore the linen off the bed, packed the blankets away, and, after tidying up the room, tossed the sheets and pillow slips into the bathroom hamper.
Then she was about to step into the shower, when she changed her mind. She’d soak in a long and lazy bath...and then she’d make herself another pot of coffee.
It was wonderful, she reflected as she turned on the taps and slipped out of her robe, to be on holiday. To have no worries; no deadlines; no plans of any kind.
And the best thing about this particular holiday was that she was going to spend it absolutely on her own.
As for that hateful man in the white house on the hill, she would just ignore him, pretend he didn’t exist.
It was the only way to deal with people like him!
Logan stuck the key in the lock, turned the knob, and pushed the door open.
The interior of the cottage was silent. The only sounds came from outside. Birds warbled, dancing wavelets splashed against the jetty, the brisk breeze rustled leaves in the garden. He left the door open and stepped inside.
The air was dusty, with the faint lingering smell of coffee. So...they’d breakfasted before they’d gone.
He moved through to the kitchen, and snorted with disgust. Just as he’d expected, they’d left the place a pigsty. Hadn’t even emptied the coffeepot; hadn’t even cleared the table, far less washed the mugs and plates.
He’d start cleaning in here, but first he’d check to see what kind of a mess they’d left in the other areas.
He poked his nose into the smaller bedroom and saw that the mattress was bare. He assumed the couple had used the larger room, with its double bed, and, when he checked it out, saw that his assumption had been correct.
Slobs.
The sheets were on the floor, as were the tumbled blankets. They’d had some kind of a wild night, he thought as he glowered at the bed.
And if they’d left the bedroom like this he could only imagine what was awaiting him in the bathroom.
He strode down the narrow hallway, took a deep breath...and flung the door open.
CHAPTER TWO
SARA screamed.
Lost in daydreams and pampered to the chin in gardenia-scented bath bubbles, she had drifted off to sleep. Now, as the door crashed inwards, with her scream shrilling in her ears, she shot up to a sitting position. And with her heart in her mouth she stared with horrified disbelief and fast-rising panic at the figure in the doorway. She’d always felt nature had dealt her a generous hand in the courage department; now she felt terror squeeze that courage down to the size and consistency of a mini-marshmallow!
Logan Hunter.
Man on the prowl.
Naked man on the prowl!
No, not naked; he was wearing swimming trunks—but they were the same brown as his skin so her error had been understandable. She gulped back the lump that almost closed her throat. His black hair was dishevelled, his jaw dark-stubbled, and his eyes were fixed, with the blank look of a person hypnotised, on the foam frothing up over her breasts.
Sex. He wanted sex. He’d seen Zach leave and had lost no time in coming after her! The man was a raving maniac!
‘Get out!’ she shrieked. Snatching the heavy glass bottle of bubble beads from the rack at her elbow, she threw it wildly at him. She missed by a country mile. It smashed against the wall and clattered unbroken to the floor.
‘Get out,’ she screeched, ‘you nasty, disgusting old pervert—’ She scooped up the giant-sized cake of Heavenly Gardenia soap from the edge of the bath and rocketed it at his face. Her aim was atrocious, but he dodged, and the hard oval bar met his brow with a crack that made him wince.
‘Ouch!’ He staggered back a step. ‘Cut it out.’
To her dismay, she noticed that the bath bubbles had started to deflate. Frantically she threshed the dying suds with the flat of her hands in an attempt to revive them, but in vain. The water had cooled, and the bubbles only grew smaller and smaller, concealed her less and less...
With a quavering moan, she slid down as far as she could go without submerging herself fully, and prayed that the few remaining bubbles would continue to act as a veil.
‘I’ll drown myself!’ she moaned, splaying her hands over her breasts and almost throwing out her back as she twisted her crossed legs away from him. ‘I’ll drown myself, I swear, rather than give in to you and your wicked—’
‘Give in to me?’ His curse turned the air blue. ‘Lady, you’re out of your mind. I saw the boat leave and I merely came down to see what Zach Grant had left behind. What I certainly didn’t expect to find was...you.’ He crossed to the mirror above the sink, swiped a hand over the glass to clear the steam, and leaned forward to inspect his brow. ‘You just missed my eye,’ he accused. ‘Lucky for you—’ he turned ‘—or I’d have sued the pants off you...’
His gaze trailed from her face to her body, and he raised a cynical brow. ‘But I guess,’ he added mockingly, ‘they’re already off.’
Sara felt a sheet of heat skim from her neck to the tips of her toes. She had no idea how much of her was visible through the scanty remaining foam—but she’d have walked barefoot over white-hot coals rather than give this man the satisfaction of seeing her peek to check.
‘All right.’ She tilted her chin regally. ‘Please leave now. Your explanation and apology are accepted—’
‘Apology?’ he sputtered. ‘What apology? You’re the one who should be doing the apologising—’
A loud hammering on the front door stopped him short.
‘Hello?’ The voice was high-pitched, nervous, young. ‘Anyone in there? Is everything OK?’
Sara saw him roll his eyes.
‘My daughter!’ He raked a hand through his already mussed black hair, his expression that of an animal caught in a leghold trap. ‘Where angels fear to tread, she just barges in—’
‘Like father, like daughter!’ Sara’s courage had swelled up again, but too late to give her any feeling of pride or pleasure.
‘I guess.’ The faintest twinkle gleamed in his eyes.
Green eyes. Sara had noticed that when she’d first met him. Then, and moments ago, they’d been cold and hostile. Now, for the first time, she saw a glimmer of warmth, and it kindled an odd spark of excitement deep inside her.
‘For God’s sake—’ his voice was hoarse ‘—don’t tell her about this. I’ll never hear the end of it.’
Without waiting for an answer, he wheeled away, slamming the bathroom door behind him.
Sara slumped, boneless as a drunken jellyfish. Her body trembled; her heart trembled. If that confrontation was a portent of the kind of holiday that lay ahead, perhaps it would indeed have been better if Zach had rented her a de luxe condo in a busy holiday resort...
‘What happened, Dad?’ The girl’s voice drifted into the bathroom through the open window as father and daughter walked along the side of the cottage. ‘I heard the scream and I ran to your room to see if you had too, but you weren’t there, so I guessed you must have come down to investigate.’
Sara held her breath, curious to hear Logan’s answer.
‘It was nothing, sweetie. Zach Grant’s gone—his girlfriend’s here on her own, and apparently when she was in the bathroom she saw a... mouse.’
The voices faded, and once again Sara relaxed.
A mouse. No, Mr Logan, she disdainfully corrected him, what I saw in my bathroom was certainly not a mouse.
It looked much more like a rat.
‘After we finish breakfast, I’m going to start clearing out your mother’s things from the master bedroom.’ Logan watched his daughter carefully from across the verandah table, alert to any sign of distress. ‘Care to help?’
Andy’s huge brown eyes gave nothing away as they met his. ‘No, that’s OK, Dad. You should probably do it on your own. I’ll start packing up the books in the den. Where are the boxes?’
‘Should be a bunch up in the attic. We’ll get them later.’
Andy nodded and, bending her head over her bowl, dug her spoon into her cereal.
