Читать книгу All Night Long - Anne Mather - Страница 9

IT HAD been a dull overcast morning when they’d left London but Nassau was basking in the heat of the afternoon sun. Ally estimated that the temperature outside the airport buildings was hovering somewhere close to ninety. Heat shimmered above the tarmac of the runways and the breeze that stirred the flags hanging limply from their poles was barely enough to temper the humidity that drifted into the Arrivals Hall.

She and her fellow passengers were waiting for their luggage to be unloaded onto the carousels, and, exchanging a rueful smile with a young mother who was trying to appease two fretful children, Ally tried to rekindle the optimism she’d felt when she’d left Newcastle the afternoon before. She was almost there, she thought determinedly. According to Suzanne, it was just a short flight from New Providence to San Cristobál, where her friend and her husband ran a small hotel. Suzanne had said someone would meet her here at the airport and escort her to the small plane that would take her on the final leg of her journey, and, apart from her own foolish feelings, everything was going according to plan.

Only it wasn’t, Ally reflected unhappily. Nothing had gone according to plan since she’d allowed Raul—if that really was his name—to pick her up in the hotel bar the night before. Ever since then everything had gone anything but according to plan and she was having a hard time fighting the suspicion that perhaps this holiday wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

Which was defeatist, perhaps, but it was how she felt. Last night she’d done something totally reckless, totally irresponsible, and all she’d really wanted to do this morning was get on the train again and go home. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could do what she’d done and not get a conscience about it. She’d acted completely out of character, and she dreaded to think how her daughter would feel if she ever found out.

Of course, there was no reason why Sam should find out, she assured herself. No matter how much she’d wanted to do it, she hadn’t cashed in her air ticket or cancelled her trip, and surely by the time she got back she’d have forgotten all about last night. She doubted if Suzanne would blame her, if she confided in her, but then Suzanne was a woman of the world whereas, for all her modern outlook, Sam could be incredibly old-fashioned when it came to the people she loved.

‘Mrs Sloan?’

The voice came from behind her and when she turned Ally found a man in a short-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts gazing cheerfully at her. He was very tanned, with a fan of creases at each side of his blue eyes that seemed to indicate he spent a lot of time outdoors. Grey-blond hair escaped untidily from the sides of the baseball cap he was wearing back to front and his smile revealed white, but slightly crooked, teeth.

‘Yes, I’m Mrs Sloan,’ she said, and he nodded.

‘I thought you must be.’ His grin deepened. ‘Suze said to look out for a tall good-looking woman and she wasn’t wrong.’ He pulled off his cap and held out his hand. ‘Mike Mclean at your service, Mrs Sloan. I’m here to fly you over to Saint Chris.’

‘Saint Chris?’

Ally arched an enquiring brow and he gestured towards the carousel. ‘San Cristobál,’ he explained. ‘D’you want to point out your bags and we’ll be on our way?’

‘My bags?’ Ally turned back to the conveyor belt that was now moving. ‘Oh—yes.’ She shook her head a little dazedly. ‘I thought—that is, I assumed that whoever Suzanne had sent would be waiting outside.’

‘In this heat?’ Mclean grimaced. ‘No. So long as we go through Customs together no one objects.’ He saw her move forward. ‘That’s one of them?’

In a short while, Mclean had the sports holdall she had borrowed from Ryan and her own suitcase on a luggage trolley and was propelling them towards the exit. Although he wasn’t a particularly tall man, he was obviously strong and capable, and Ally felt no qualms about putting herself into his hands. Indeed, it was a relief to be free of the responsibility for getting to her destination, and she fanned herself a little weakly when they emerged into the sunlight.

‘It’s this way,’ he said, directing her along the walkway that led towards the commuter terminal. ‘Did you have a good journey?’

‘Um—fairly good.’ Ally was loath to tell him that she’d slept most of the way. But she’d been exhausted and, after lunch had been served, she’d flaked out.

‘Marvellous things, these big jets,’ commented Mclean amiably. ‘Makes my little Piper look like a kid’s toy.’ He grinned again. ‘I guess you’d know about kids. Suze tells me you’ve got two of your own.’

‘They’re hardly kids,’ murmured Ally. She paused. ‘Do you have children, Mr Mclean?’

‘The name’s Mike,’ he said at once. ‘And, no. I’m afraid I’ve never had that pleasure. I’m what Suze calls a crusty old bachelor. More’s the pity.’

Ally smiled. ‘Hardly crusty,’ she said. ‘And please call me Ally. Mrs Sloan makes me sound like my mother-in-law. My ex-mother-in-law, I mean,’ she added hastily. ‘I’m divorced.’

‘Yeah. Suze told me that, too,’ he admitted, his tone sympathetic. Then, ‘But you’ve done the right thing coming out here. Smuggler’s Cove is a beautiful spot.’

‘Is it?’ Smuggler’s Cove was where Suzanne and her husband, Peter Davis, had their hotel. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing it. To seeing the whole island,’ she appended. ‘Is it very big?’

‘Nah. About eight miles long and five across at best.’ He saw she was flagging and waited for her to catch up. ‘Of course, Suze will have told you that the Ramirezes own most of the island, but what’s left is pretty damn spectacular, I can tell you.’

Ally frowned. ‘Why would Suzanne have mentioned—who was it you said?—the Ramirezes to me?’

‘Well, because Julia is going to marry their son,’ explained Mike carelessly. Julia was Suzanne’s daughter, Ally recalled. He pointed at the single-engined aircraft that awaited them on the tarmac. ‘There’s my pride and joy. And don’t worry; I’ve got an icebox on board. I bet you could murder a cold drink?’

He hastened ahead so that by the time she’d reached the small Cherokee he’d already stowed her bags in the back. ‘Welcome aboard,’ he said, helping her up the short flight of steps into the cabin. ‘You’re going to feel a whole lot better when we get off the ground.’

Ally hoped so. Right now, she felt hot and uncomfortable, the shirt and denim trousers that had felt too thin in London now damp and sticking to her skin. She’d removed the jacket she’d worn to travel in as soon as she’d got off the plane but she was still sweating. She should have brought a change of clothes in her hand luggage, she thought ruefully. But then, this morning she’d been too bemused to think of things like that.

This morning…

Pushing that thought aside, she settled into the seat beside Mike and sipped a cola as he completed his pre-flight checks. Then he adjusted his earphones and she heard the static buzz as the control tower responded to his request for clearance for take-off.

‘Not long now,’ he said, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. ‘These guys are pretty efficient.’

Ally nodded, hoping she wouldn’t disgrace herself. She’d never flown in such a small aircraft before and, when Mike taxied to the end of the runway, she felt her stomach quiver.

But then they were moving, faster and faster, and in no time at all it seemed they were off the ground and soaring into the blue, blue sky. Nassau, and the island of New Providence, fell away below them and although she still felt a little nervous, her fears seemed foolish. Mike was obviously at home behind the controls and his enthusiasm was infectious.

‘Is that San Cristobál?’ she asked, after a few minutes, noticing another island on the horizon. But Mike shook his head.

‘Hell, no,’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s Andros. It’s the biggest island in the group. San Cristobál is one of the smallest.’

‘Oh.’

Ally grimaced and Mike grinned at her. ‘Hey, it was a reasonable question,’ he said. Then, pointing down, he added, ‘Can you see the reef? It runs the whole length of Andros. People come from all over the world to dive around the coral.’

‘Really?’

Ally gazed down, entranced, and forgot to be worried. There was so much more to see from this small plane than from the big jumbo that she’d flown in from London. She could see dozens of islands now, strung out like pearls across the ocean, and even the sails of larger yachts that were cruising the calm waters below them.

Her stomach tightened. Perhaps one of those yachts was owned by the company Raul worked for, she thought tensely. He’d said they chartered yachts all over the Caribbean, catering to the increasingly popular demand for sailing craft. She wished she’d asked him what the name of the company was. Although he probably wouldn’t have told her. A man who slept with a woman and then left before she woke up was hardly likely to leave his calling card.

She pressed her lips together. It was her own fault, of course. There was no point in blaming him for what had happened. It was she who’d let him buy her a drink; she who’d accepted his invitation to dinner. And it was she who’d invited him into her room for a nightcap, precipitating the events that had followed…

She shivered. It all seemed faintly unbelievable now, but it had happened. She had done all those things and more besides. If she was now regretting the whole affair, it served her right. She should have known better.

But, oh, nothing like that had ever happened to her before. All right, she’d been a fool, but she’d also been incredibly vulnerable. Had he guessed that she would have little defence against his practised charm? That, even though he was considerably younger than she was, she wasn’t more experienced? It wasn’t as if she’d led him on. Or not intentionally, she amended, with a grimace.

And yet, had it been such a bad experience? Ally sighed. If she was absolutely honest with herself she would have to admit that it hadn’t. In fact, it was probably because it had been so incredibly satisfying that she was feeling so hurt—so confused—now.

But what had she expected? That something more would come of it? That he might swear undying love for her on the basis of one good night’s sex? Come on, Ally, she chided herself inwardly. Grow up!

But she couldn’t prevent her mind from drifting back to the moment when they’d reached her door and the mistake she’d made by inviting him in…

‘I—want to thank you again,’ she began, fumbling in her bag for her key-card. ‘You’ve saved me from spending a rather anxious evening on my own. I’m not used to travelling alone, and I was feeling a little apprehensive.’

‘My pleasure,’ said Raul, taking the rescued key-card out of her hand and inserting it in the lock for her. The green light flashed and he smiled. ‘There you go.’

‘Thank you.’ Ally turned the handle and opened the door. She stepped inside and then glanced back over her shoulder. ‘Um—goodnight.’

‘Didn’t you forget something?’

Ally swallowed. Of course, she thought unhappily. He expected her to invite him in. That was why he’d offered to escort her to her door. All the rooms had mini-bars and he would know that. What could be more natural than to invite him in for a nightcap? It was the accepted thing to do. Or it would be if she had more confidence in herself.

And yet…

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, not looking at him, pretending to be intent on closing her handbag. ‘Er—I should have asked. Would you like to come in for a drink?’

Let him say no, she begged, forcing herself to turn and face him. And then her cheeks burned when she saw the key-card in his hand.

‘A drink?’ he echoed now, handing her the key-card, and she realised it hadn’t been his intention to invade her privacy. ‘Well, I—’

‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to,’ she broke in hurriedly, but she knew as soon as she spoke that she’d said the wrong thing. She sounded as if she might take offence if he refused, and, as if to endorse this thought, Raul inclined his head.

‘Why not?’ he said, stretching out an arm to press the door wider. His lips twisted. ‘We might as well end the evening as we began it. Please, go ahead.’

A maid had been into the room while she was at dinner and now the queen-size bed was turned down and a cellophane-wrapped chocolate had been placed on her pillow. In the lamplight, the room looked warm and personal and Ally’s tension increased in direct opposition to its implied intimacy.

The door closed behind her guest and, casting him a rather panic-stricken glance, she threw her handbag onto the bed and hastened towards the refrigerated cabinet. The cool air from inside was balm to her hot cheeks and she scanned its contents with anxious eyes, looking for a small bottle of single malt.

‘Whisky?’ she asked, finding what she was looking for and lifting it out. She closed the door of the cabinet with her hip and leaned back against it. ‘I’m afraid there doesn’t appear to be any ice.’

Raul had paused in the middle of the floor and was looking about him with some interest. But now he regarded her with considering eyes.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘In all honesty, I’ve probably drunk more than I should have anyway.’ He gave her a gentle smile. ‘But thanks for the offer.’

Ally shook her head. Conversely, now that he was rejecting the drink, she was disappointed. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘It’s no trouble, you know.’

Raul hesitated. ‘Well, if you insist…’

‘I’ll get a glass,’ she said, once again on the defensive. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’

There were glasses in the bathroom, she remembered with some relief, but she had to pass him to get to the bathroom door. Easing round him, she managed to reach her objective without embarrassing herself still further and she gratefully switched on the light. The fluorescent glow was reassuringly bright and she managed to unscrew the cap and pour the contents of the bottle into one of the squat water glasses without spilling any.

She was reluctant to leave the impersonal brilliance of the bathroom for the discreetly lit surroundings of the bedroom, however. Pausing in the doorway, she said, ‘Here you are,’ and extended the glass towards him so that Raul was obliged to move into the harsher light to take it. She injected a note of polite interest into her voice. ‘I hope it’s all right.’

‘I’m sure it will be.’ Raul swallowed a mouthful of the whisky and nodded. ‘It’s fine,’ he said quietly. Then, ‘Are you all right?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Ally wrapped her arms about her midriff. ‘Oh—you mean because I’m not having a drink? Well, actually, I feel as though I’ve drunk too much, too. Particularly as I’ve got a long flight in the morning. I just hope I’ll wake up in time. Perhaps I should order one of those wake-up calls—’

She was babbling; she knew it. And she was hardly surprised when he broke into her prattle to say in an oddly flat tone, ‘I’d better go.’ He paused. ‘I can see I’m making you nervous, and it is late.’

‘Oh, but—’ Ally moistened her lips. ‘You—you haven’t finished your drink.’

‘It doesn’t matter—’

‘It does.’ Ally gazed at him with wide uncertain eyes, and Raul uttered a groan.

‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’ He started towards the door. ‘Get a good night’s rest.’

‘Wait!’ Ally went after him. ‘I didn’t mean—that is, I’m sorry if I’ve spoiled the evening.’

‘You haven’t.’ He almost growled the words. Then he gave her a tormented look. ‘Let me go, Ally Sloan, or I may do something we’ll both regret.’ His hand came out almost of its own volition and shaped her cheek. ‘You’re very sweet, do you know that? And I’m old enough to know better.’

Ally drew a trembling breath. ‘You’re not implying that I invited you in here to—to—’

‘I’m not implying anything,’ he said huskily. And then, with a muffled oath, he bent his head and brushed her mouth with his…

‘If you look there, you can just see San Cristobál.’ Mike Mclean’s voice dragged her back to the present and she gathered her scattered senses to look where he was pointing. ‘Can you see it? It’s that fish-tailed island just west of Marlin Cay.’

Ally had no idea what Marlin Cay was, but she recognised San Cristobál from his description. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘How much longer is it going to take?’

‘Oh—ten, fifteen minutes,’ replied Mike, giving her a cheerful grin. ‘I bet you’re looking forward to seeing Suze again. She said you’ve known one another a long time.’

‘That’s right.’ Ally endeavoured to distract herself from her thoughts.

‘How come you haven’t been out to see her before?’

‘Well…’ Ally hesitated. ‘It hasn’t been—possible.’

She neglected to tell him that both Suzanne and Peter had never liked Jeff; that they’d both thought he was a user and that they thought he’d neglected Ally shamefully in the past. Of course, she’d always defended him in those days. If only she’d known…

‘I get you.’ She suspected Mike thought that the airfare had proved prohibitive before this. ‘Well, I’m sure you’re going to have a great time. And any time you need a guide, I want you to know you can count on me.’

Ally smiled. ‘You’re very kind.’

‘Not kind.’ Mike winked. ‘Just taking advantage of the situation. If I know Suze, she’ll have you fixed up with an escort before you know it. I’m staking my claim, that’s all.’

Ally’s smile thinned a little. She didn’t want Suzanne or anyone else ‘fixing her up with an escort’. She didn’t want an escort. After last night she thought it would be a long time before she allowed any other man to get even half as close to her. God, how had it happened? How could she have been so naïve?

Her skin prickled with the remembrance of how she’d felt when Raul kissed her. A tingling sensation had begun when his mouth had touched hers and spread throughout her whole body. For a few seconds she’d been unable to move, unable to speak. Unable to do anything, in fact, but absorb the incredulous realisation that he was holding her firmly between his hands and nibbling on her lips.

She took a deep breath. She should have stopped him; she knew that now, had known it then, only she’d been so shocked by the feelings he had so effortlessly inspired that she’d numbed her mind to any kind of mutiny. She’d wanted him to go on; she’d wanted him to kiss her; she’d wanted him to thrust his caressing tongue into her mouth and take possession of her spinning senses.

God, she’d been so easy, she agonised bleakly. She’d always despised women who made fools of themselves over younger men, but she was no better. Yet she’d always considered herself beyond such things. Even when Jeff had left her for a much younger woman, she’d felt a certain amount of scorn for what she’d seen as his attempt to recapture his youth. She would never have dreamed that she could be caught in the same trap, would never have believed she could act that way herself.

So why had she?

As Mike contacted the airport at San Cristobál to negotiate their approach and landing, Ally struggled to understand what Raul had done to make her forsake the woman she’d thought she was and become some wild creature governed by her needs and her emotions.

She pressed her lips tightly together. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t known what she was doing. No matter how much easier it would have been for her to blame him for what had happened, she couldn’t do it. She’d gone into his arms eagerly, blindly, seeking a crazy gratification that she’d instinctively known that only he could provide.

God, what must he have thought of her? When he’d kissed her, when he’d tilted her chin and looked into her eyes, what had he seen? A timid frightened woman who was suddenly at the mercy of her senses, or a sex-starved harlot with no shame and fewer morals?

She shook her head. Whatever he’d thought, she’d been too bemused to do anything but drown in the sultry heat of his lovemaking. Weak and feeble as the memory was, she’d been trembling with need and emotion, and lost to any will but his.

She seemed to remember he’d said something about this not being supposed to happen, almost as if everything that had happened up to that point had been preordained. But with his thumb tugging at the corner of her lips, she hadn’t attempted to ask him what he meant and he hadn’t repeated it. His mouth had been too intent on tracing a sensuous path down the curve of her neck while he whispered her name over and over with an almost desperate urgency.

Perhaps that was why she hadn’t attempted to stop him, she consoled herself. Perhaps the knowledge that this attractive man was apparently as drunk with his emotions as she was with hers had prevented her from drawing back. But that was wishful thinking. She’d have let him do anything at that moment.

For a second, she felt the quivering in her thighs that she’d felt then, the melting sensation of her bones dissolving, of her legs becoming like jelly beneath her. His hands had caressed her throat, she remembered, sliding beneath the neckline of her dress, exposing the pale skin of her shoulders. For the first time in her life she’d been glad that there was flesh on her bones and that she didn’t have the saltcellar hollows that young women seemed to think was such an essential to beauty today.

She’d hardly been aware that he’d found the zip at the back of her dress until it slid away to pool in a circle of black silk about her ankles. But the amazing thing was that she hadn’t been embarrassed standing there in little more than her bra and pantyhose while he was still fully clothed.

But that didn’t stop her from cringing now. God, she must have been drunk—and not just on her emotions. She could think of no other reason why she would have acted so out of character. She was simply not that kind of woman. Until now, she’d lived a perfectly decent life. Having sex with a stranger she’d only met hours before was the stuff of romantic novels; not real life. Yet when he’d touched her, when he’d pulled her against his lean, muscled body and tantalised her with his teasing mouth, she’d felt as if she had no will of her own.

How had it happened? When his lips had returned to hers with what had felt suspiciously like hunger, why had she wound her arms around his neck and given him back kiss for kiss? Dear Lord, she’d behaved as if she was greedy for his lovemaking, raising herself up on her toes, revelling in the hard strength she could feel between his thighs, fitting her quivering body to his.

For his part Raul had offered no opposition. On the contrary, for some reason he’d seemed to find her—what? Her inexperience? Her naïvety? Her desperation? She shuddered—exciting. He’d been so different from Jeff, she conceded tensely, taking her with him every step of the way. She couldn’t even pretend that she’d thought of her ex-husband when she was in Raul’s arms. There had been no comparison between Jeff’s solid frame and Raul’s sinuous masculinity; no similarity whatsoever in their approach.

The truth was Jeff had never made love to her with even half of the skill that Raul had so carelessly exhibited, and even with her eyes closed she could not have mistaken his identity. She had never experienced such power, such tenderness, such suppressed passion, that had been at once flattering and thrilling. And, oh, so unbelievably good.

Half afraid that Mike would notice the way she was twisting her hands together in her lap, she turned her head to stare out of the plane’s window. They’d be landing soon, she reminded herself. She had to stop thinking about what had happened last night and start anticipating her arrival. She had weeks ahead of her to relax and do whatever she wanted, and surely now that she’d got Jeff out of her system she was not going to make the mistake of letting one unguarded incident ruin her holiday.

All the same, images of herself and Raul together refused to be banished. They had done things that she and Jeff had never done, not even when they were first married. But then, he’d seduced her before she was old enough to know better and, with the twins on the way, she’d been pathetically eager to accept his proposal.

She sighed.

Nevertheless, nothing could excuse the way she’d behaved last night. She hadn’t gone to bed with Raul because she’d felt some latent desire to prove herself. She’d slept with him because she’d wanted to, because she’d wanted to please him—and that was the saddest thing of all.

Still caught up in the spell of emotions she’d never felt before, she’d spared little thought for what was right or wrong. When Raul had tossed his jacket aside and torn off his tie, she’d shocked herself by reaching for the buttons of his shirt. She’d been frantic for him to take his clothes off, frantic to touch him, and when she’d spread her palms against his taut midriff, she’d been almost dizzy with longing.

And Raul hadn’t given her time to have any doubts. His tongue had painted a sensuous path from her jawline to the rising swell of her breasts, drawing her bra away from her burgeoning nipples before suckling on their tender tips. As if compelled, his mouth had returned to hers again and again and there’d been a sensual pleasure in feeling the abrasion of his chest hair against her sensitive skin.

Somehow, she didn’t altogether remember how it had happened, they’d been on the bed and she’d been helping him kick off his boots and trousers. He’d been wearing black satin boxers, she recalled tremulously, and they hadn’t been able to hide the impressive bulge of his erection.

She trembled now, remembering it was she who’d peeled his shorts away and exposed his sex to her intoxicated gaze. Intoxicated! Her lips twisted. She’d been intoxicated all right. Intoxicated in more ways than one.

But had he been intoxicated, too? It had certainly seemed so at the time though she couldn’t help wondering now if he hadn’t known exactly what he was doing. She could still see him caressing her inner thighs, tucking his thumbs into the hem of her briefs and tugging them off.

After that they’d both seemed to go a little crazy. She stifled a groan. When had she become the sort of woman who opened herself to a man’s lips and his tongue, who let a man seduce her in ways she’d only read about before? Had she really spread her legs and arched against his tormenting caresses, welcomed the thrust of his tongue that had driven her to the very edge of insanity? And had she sighed with satisfaction when he’d sheathed his rampant shaft in the moist heart of her womanhood, wrapped her legs about his waist and urged him to go on?

She knew she had; knew, too, that she’d been pitifully eager for him to take possession of her, encouraging him with breathless little sounds that even then she’d hardly recognised as issuing from her mouth. She’d been deaf and blind to everything but the things he was doing to her and when her climax had come she remembered he’d silenced her grateful cry with his lips.

Her tongue circled her teeth. Thank God he’d had the sense to wear protection, she acknowledged unsteadily. If he hadn’t she might have been facing something much worse than losing her self-respect. How convenient that he’d found the contraceptive in his pocket, she thought bitterly, wondering if a man ever suffered the same regrets as a woman. Probably not, she decided wryly. He hadn’t confessed to her that he’d never felt like that before…