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‘Not so far, I’m afraid.’ Angela shook her head ruefully. ‘She seems determined to catch that plane tomorrow. Some nonsense about having to earn her living.’
‘She could do that here.’ Brad smiled at her.
‘I don’t think so.’ Paige shook her head, glancing around her, absorbing the ambience of luxury combined with good taste. ‘You don’t need a PR person. This place clearly sells itself.’
‘There are other positions—other roles we could discuss, maybe.’ He was still holding her hand, and Paige detached herself gently.
‘It’s a nice thought, but I’m not really looking at the moment. Thanks.’
‘Well, let me at least show you around,’ Brad suggested. ‘Let you see the layout.’
‘Good idea,’ Jack said heartily. ‘We’ll see you in the bar presently.’
And Paige, with murder in her heart, allowed herself to be led away.
In spite of herself, she found she was enjoying the tour. Brad was clearly proud of what he’d achieved, and rightly so. And he had firm ideas about his plans for the future, she realised with frank appreciation.
‘Sure I can’t tempt you to stay here?’ he asked, his eyes searching as he poured them both a drink in his private office.
‘Absolutely convinced.’ Paige took the glass from him with a murmur of thanks. ‘In fact, I’m not sure I shouldn’t be recruiting you instead, for Harrington Holdings. We could do with your kind of vision.’
His brows lifted. ‘Things not going so well?’
She shrugged. ‘We’ve had a so-so year. More than our fair share of problems.’ She paused, pulling a mock-guilty face. ‘And, as you can see, I’m a lousy PR girl, because I shouldn’t even be talking like this. I ought to be saying that everything in the garden is lovely.’
‘Well, there are no journalists present, and your secrets are safe with me.’ He looked at her enquiringly. ‘So, if your heart’s not in it, why do you work in public relations? Maybe the time is right for a change of career.’
‘I’ve already had one. I started out on a women’s magazine, working in features.’
‘You got tired of that?’
‘By no means. I was persuaded that I was needed elsewhere. And my family can be very persuasive.’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Then perhaps I should try a little coaxing myself.’
She was aware that he’d moved closer along the big white leather sofa they were sharing.
She stiffened, her hands clasped together in her lap, her whole body language a warning to him not to stray any nearer. She offered him a taut smile. ‘I’m really not open to any kind of inducement at the moment. I have problems of my own to sort out.’
‘I know you’re married,’ he said. ‘Angie told me. But she also said it hadn’t worked out. So that needn’t be a barrier. I’m divorced myself, and it isn’t the end of the world.’ He paused. ‘Unless you’re still carrying a torch for the guy?’
‘Absolutely not.’ Her voice sounded clipped and very clear. ‘We weren’t together long enough to light one.’
‘That doesn’t mean a thing.’ The blue eyes were shrewd. ‘Sometimes it can just take one look across a room full of other people.’
Was that how it had been when he saw her? she wondered, and hoped not with all her heart. Because only self-deception lay that way, as she had reason to know.
‘For me, it would take far more.’ She stared rigidly down at her untouched glass.
‘Well, I’m a patient man,’ he said. ‘I can wait.’
Paige bit her lip. ‘Brad, you’re really nice …’
‘Oh, God,’ he said. ‘I feel a rejection coming on.’
‘But you don’t know me—or anything about me other than things that Angie’s said.’ She attempted a laugh. ‘And, I warn you, she’s biased.’
‘That’s precisely why I want you to stay a while longer. To give us both a chance to find out if this thing could be going somewhere.’ He paused. ‘Paige, I was hit hard when my marriage broke up, and I won’t pretend otherwise. But I’m over it now, and ready to move on. When I saw you, I thought for the first time that this could be the time, the place and the girl.’
She said quietly, ‘I’m flattered. In fact, I’m honoured. But the fact is I’m simply not free, personally or professionally, to make any definite plans for the future. Not yet. I really need to sort out my life back in England.’
‘I’d like to say—keep me in mind. But the Caribbean’s a hell of a long way from Britain.’ His expression was wry.
Paige laughed. ‘Not since jet planes were invented, surely? I thought the worst part of the journey was actually the ferry trip from Sainte Marie,’ she added, wrinkling her nose. ‘I’m not a brilliant sailor, so I’m not looking forward to the return journey.’
Brad stared at her. ‘You mean you didn’t use Hilaire? Then you must. He runs the local air taxi service, which is about as much as our tiny airfield can cope with. I’ll call him now.’ He rose and went over to his desk. ‘What time is your flight? He’ll get you there with time to spare.’
‘Oh, please,’ Paige said, swift alarm rising inside her at the prospect of further damage to her credit card. ‘There’s no need—really. I’ve got my ferry ticket and—’
‘But you’ll be much happier with Hilaire,’ Brad interrupted firmly, punching in the numbers. ‘You won’t stay and let me show you a good time—or give you a job—so please let me do this small thing for you. When does your plane leave?’
She told him reluctantly. She didn’t wish to be beholden to him, but sometimes it was easier just to give in gracefully rather than go on with an argument she suspected she wouldn’t win.
The trouble is, she thought ruefully, I’m not used to receiving kindnesses.
The Harrington clan on the whole tended to be takers rather than givers. And Nick …
Well, Nick gave nothing, she thought, as sudden unwelcome pain twisted inside her.
‘That’s all arranged,’ Brad said cheerfully, replacing the receiver. ‘I’ll send my car for you at noon to take you to the airstrip.’ He studied her, frowning. ‘Are you all right? Have I been putting on too much pressure? I don’t mean to.’
‘No,’ Paige assured him quickly. ‘Everything’s fine. I—I’m very grateful—really.’ She stood up. ‘Jack and Angie will be wondering where we’ve got to. Maybe we should join them.’
‘Of course,’ he said instantly. ‘I’m being selfish. It’s just so good to have you to myself for a little while.’ He came across to her and put his hands gently on her shoulders. ‘May I say goodbye now—in private?’
She smiled fleetingly, muttered something acquiescent as he bent towards her. His lips were warm and firm. The kiss was pleasant and not unduly prolonged.
‘Well,’ Brad said, as he let her go. ‘It’s a start.’
No, Paige thought with regret. It’s not.
She wished so much that it could be otherwise. That his kiss had lit some spark that would have prompted her to accede to his urging and stay. Explore a relationship with him, maybe become half of a couple.
Jack and Angie would have been so pleased—and so smug, she reminded herself wryly.
But it wasn’t to be, and that was all there was to it.
‘How did it go?’ Angie whispered as Paige sat down beside her.
‘He’s really sweet,’ Paige temporised.
‘But you’re still going back tomorrow.’ Angie’s face fell. ‘Jack said you would.’
‘He has wisdom beyond his years.’ Paige squeezed her friend’s arm affectionately. ‘But I’ll be back to stay some other time, if you’ll have me.’
She glanced around her. The tables, set with pristine white linen and gleaming silverware, were stationed round the edge of a large dance floor. The band, a four-piece combination, were playing quietly, but no one was dancing yet, although all the tables were fully occupied. Soft-footed waiters were moving among the diners, and there was a hum of conversation and laughter punctuated by the popping of corks.
Coloured lights were festooned across the thatched roof, and each table also had a candle burning in a pretty glass shade, surrounded by a garland of bright flowers.
‘It’s really lovely here,’ Paige commented. ‘And very crowded. I thought this was the off season.’
‘A couple of big yachts docked in the marina this morning. Jack says it’s Alain Froyat, who owns a string of European magazines, and Kel Drake, the film producer.’ Angie shrugged. ‘Apparently there’s been a weather warning, so they’ve decided to play it safe. And their guests have all come ashore to dine and lose some of their accumulated wealth in Brad’s casino.’
‘A weather warning?’ Paige frowned. ‘Do you mean a hurricane?’
‘Oh, it probably won’t be that bad. But we can get the odd tropical storm at this time of year.’ She pursed her lips. ‘And that might delay your ferry.’
‘That’s not a problem.’ Paige’s tone was rueful. ‘Apparently I’m going to Sainte Marie in style—courtesy of Brad, and someone called Hilaire.’
‘Holy smoke,’ said Angie. ‘I’m impressed. Hilaire must have had to toss out the odd millionaire to make room for you.’
Their table was in the corner of the restaurant nearest the beach, to take advantage of the breeze from the sea. Only there didn’t seem to be one. The air was very warm, and very still. In fact it had almost a brooding quality, Paige thought, watching the reflection of the moon on the calm water. Maybe the skippers on those yachts had known what they were doing when they’d looked for a secure haven. For a moment she was aware of a faint shiver of uneasiness, but dismissed it. She would be halfway home by the time bad weather struck, she told herself resolutely. If indeed it did.
The food was delicious—pumpkin soup followed by red snapper, and a spicy chicken dish served with fragrant rice, all of it accompanied by vintage wines. Dessert was slices of fresh pineapple marinated in liqueur, and a wonderful home-made coconut ice cream.
Brad was an attentive host, keeping the conversation general and light-hearted, and, to Paige’s relief, making no further comment about her imminent departure.
Now that the pressure was off, it was turning into a really enjoyable evening, she decided, as coffee and brandy were served.
The band was playing something soft and dreamy, and Jack and Angie got up to dance. Paige watched them slowly circling the floor in each other’s arms, Jack smiling adoringly into his wife’s eyes and Angie lifting her hand to stroke his cheek.
They’ve got it right, Paige thought, suppressing a pang of envy so fierce it was almost painful.
‘Shall we join them?’
Paige started. Brad was watching her enquiringly, his brow slightly furrowed.
She sent him a bright smile. ‘Why not?’
He was a good dancer, holding her lightly and not too closely. As they moved he exchanged greetings with the people at the tables they passed, or acknowledged someone’s presence with a smile and a nod.
‘You’re good at this,’ she told him.
His grin was rueful. ‘I’m in business, and the rich can be touchy. You can’t afford to ignore anyone. And when someone like Froyat hits town you’ve no idea who might be travelling with him, so it can be perilous.’
‘I bet.’ She was smiling as she glanced towards the big table he was indicating. A sea of faces, all animated, chattering to their neighbours. All relaxed and having a good time.
All, that was, except one. A dark face, cool and sardonic, swam out of the crowd. A man who wasn’t talking to anyone around him, who was even momentarily oblivious to the young and pretty blonde who was draped across him, her arm round his neck. A man who was staring right at her, his eyes narrowed and appraising.
The smile froze on her lips. She felt the breath catch in her throat, the sudden grim thud of her astonished heart against her ribcage.
No, she thought desperately. It can’t be. It can’t …
‘Are you all right?’ Brad’s voice was concerned.
‘Yes.’ Her voice was hoarse, unlike her own. ‘I mean—no. At least …’ She paused. ‘Do you think we could sit down, please?’
‘Of course.’ His arm went round her, supporting her, and she was grateful for it as they made their way off the floor. Because her legs were shaking under her.
‘Can I get you something?’ Brad put her gently into her chair. ‘What’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
No ghost, she thought. But someone only too real, who was, by some terrible mischance, right here on St Antoine.
She said quickly, ‘I think it’s the weather.’ She fanned herself with her hand. ‘It’s got so oppressive suddenly.’
She sipped the glass of iced water he poured for her, and assured him that the slight faintness was passing. That she’d be fine if she could just sit quietly for a few minutes. And that she’d really prefer to be on her own.
‘There must be people you should be talking to,’ she urged. ‘Go and do your social thing while I pull myself together. I feel such a fool …’
‘I’d rather not leave you.’
‘Then you’ll make me feel worse than ever. Please, Brad. I might even go for a quick stroll along the beach—clear my head properly,’ she added with determined brightness.
Or I might run away and never be found again …
‘Are you sure you’d rather be alone?’ He was doubtful—reluctant.
‘Absolutely. Anyway, Jack and Angie will be back in a minute.’ She smiled at him, willing him to walk away. ‘And when you come back I’ll be fine again. Rarin’ to go, in fact.’
She sounded hyper—like a crazy woman—but it seemed to work. She didn’t watch to see what table Brad was heading for, because she didn’t want to know.
She drank some more water, staring at the flicker of the candle-flame behind the glass. What was that old saying? ‘Speak of the devil and he’s sure to appear.’ Only a few hours ago she and Angie had talked about Nick Destry—and here he was.
Unless her imagination was playing tricks—had conjured him up to torment her. Her mind was spinning—in overdrive. Could it be that? Had the trauma of the past months caught up with her at last?
All she had to do was look up—look across the room—and she would know for certain if he was real or some hobgoblin of fantasy. Only she didn’t dare.
Under cover of the tablecloth, her hands clenched impotently into fists. What the hell was the matter with her? she railed inwardly. Why was she reacting like this? Nick wasn’t a mad axe-murderer, out for blood. He was the man she’d married for business reasons and whom she was planning to divorce as soon as it was legal. This was not a problem. Unless she allowed it to be.
It’s just shock, she told herself. All these months of studiously avoiding each other, and here they were in the same nightclub on the same small Caribbean island. Just one of life’s horrible coincidences.
And her secretly nurtured hope that she might never need to set eyes on him again had always been a non-starter—totally unrealistic.
I should have taken a leaf out of Brad’s book, she thought. Smiled and nodded, as if we were passing acquaintances. Instead I let him see me leave the floor in disarray.
She felt her chest tighten, and got to her feet. She hadn’t been serious about that walk along the beach, but it suddenly seemed like a good idea. And she wasn’t running away, she told herself. Just—regrouping.
Stone steps led down to the sand, bleached silver in the moonlight. Paige paused on the bottom step, slipping off her sandals. The warm night lay on her like a blanket, the palm trees that fringed the crescent of sand unmoving as she walked down to the curling edge of the water. Her breathing was still hurried and shallow. She had to fight to control it. To rein herself in to normality, and acceptance of the fact that fate had played her an unpleasant trick.
