Читать книгу Pale Orchid - Anne Mather - Страница 8

‘HELLO, LAURA.’

Jason’s voice was cool and polite, his tone detached and incurious, as if her arrival in the islands was no surprise to him. On the contrary, there was a cynical gleam in the depths of his pale gold eyes, and his expression was resigned and only slightly guarded.

‘I … er … I thought you’d ring,’ Laura stammered now, caught unaware by her own unwelcome response to his dark magnetism. She had thought she had recovered from that unhealthy infatuation, but it seemed she had been premature in dismissing his attraction.

‘I did,’ he replied briefly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and she noticed, inconsequently, how much older he looked. The lines that etched his dark features were deeply ingrained, and the hair that lay so smoothly against his head was distinctly threaded with grey. ‘You were not available,’ he added, glancing behind him to where two other men were lounging by the pool bar.

Realising he had not come alone, Laura felt a resurgence of the resentment which had sustained her through the long weeks following her return to England. Of course, she thought bitterly, a man like him would need a bodyguard. He must have many enemies, not just here, but on the mainland.

‘I rang yesterday evening,’ he continued, observing her changing expression with impassive eyes. ‘Logan said it was urgent. I presume he exaggerated.’

‘I … why … no!’ Laura gathered her wandering thoughts, and adopted an air of concentration. ‘He—Logan, that is—doubted you would wish to speak to me. I’m afraid I went for a walk. You should have left a message.’

Jason expelled his breath evenly. ‘Yes,’ he said flatly. ‘Yes, I expect I should. Well—I am here now. I suggest we find somewhere we can talk.’

‘Oh—yes.’ Laura looked about her awkwardly, realising for the first time that their conversation was being observed by at least a dozen pairs of curious eyes. And why not, she reflected drily. They must be wondering what a man like Jason Montefiore could possibly want with a pale-skinned English girl of nondescript appearance, when he could evidently have his pick of any of the golden-skinned beauties lining the pool.

‘I assume you have no objections to coming with me?’ Jason inquired, as they walked towards the hotel entrance, and Laura cast him a sideways glance.

‘Coming with you?’ she echoed faintly, acutely aware of the shortcomings of her outfit compared to the fine silk of his beige suit.

‘I thought we might use the yacht,’ he essayed politely, allowing her to precede him into the hotel. ‘We can hardly talk here.’

‘Why not?’

Laura’s braid swung over one shoulder as she twisted her head towards him, and his lips parted in a thin smile. ‘I think we will use the yacht,’ he responded, striding lithely through the lobby and pushing wide the swing door for her to precede him out on to the front steps of the building. ‘You initiated this meeting, Laura,’ he added crisply. ‘The least you can do is to allow me to choose its venue.’

Aware of the two men from the bar following them, Laura had little choice but to step out into the sunlight. Rubbing her palms against her upper arms, she saw the sleek silver Mercedes waiting at the kerb, and her heart beat a little faster in spite of her misgivings.

Jason went ahead of her down the steps, and she saw him loosen the button beneath his tie and pull the knot away from his collar. So even he felt the heat, she reflected tensely, glad of the small imperfection. Then, as the doors opened behind her, she descended the steps, just as a uniformed chauffeur emerged to open the car doors for them.

‘Get in,’ advised Jason briefly, his eyes already looking beyond her to the two men behind. She did so, with reluctance, closing her ears to the terse instructions Jason was issuing, not looking his way again even when she felt the depression of his weight on the cushioned seat beside her.

The door was closed, and immediately the air-conditioning inside the car chilled her flesh. With the glass screen between front and back raised, they were enclosed in a world of smoked glass sophistication, and Laura couldn’t help remembering the last occasion she had ridden with him. There had been antagonism between them then, as there was now, but also a compelling familiarity—an addictive intimacy Laura had found it so hard to live without. She had known him so well—or at least she had thought she had—and there were times in those early days when she had wondered how she had ever found the strength to leave him, even after what she had learned. The truth, she had discovered to her cost, was that love did not always conform to a code of ethics. It was headstrong and unpredictable, and it had taken many months and many sleepless nights to get Jason Montefiore out of her blood …

‘You flew in—when? Yesterday?’ he inquired now, and she was forced to withdraw her attention from the leather strap hanging by the window.

‘Yesterday afternoon,’ she agreed, giving him a swift look of appraisal. He had lost weight, she noticed unwillingly, but the deeply-set eyes and thin-lipped mouth were still as disturbingly sensual as ever. His cheeks had hollowed, but the skin stretched tautly over his bones gave his dark face the strength and character she remembered, his Italian ancestry only evident in the burnished darkness of his hair.

‘From London?’ he persisted, raising one leg to rest his ankle across his knee, and the fine cloth of his pants tautened across his thighs.

‘No,’ she responded shortly, turning her eyes away from his unconscious sexuality, and concentrating on the back of the chauffeur’s head. Evidently the two other men were riding in a separate car, for there was only themselves and the driver in this one. After all, what use had Jason for a bodyguard with her? He was perfectly capable of subduing her, should he so wish.

She thought he might pursue his questions, but he didn’t. As if deciding he could wait if she could, he lounged a little lower in his seat, resting one leanfingered hand on his drawn-up ankle and gazing broodingly out of the tinted window.

It didn’t take them long to reach the marina. Jason’s driver evidently knew the city well, and in only a few minutes they had reached the basin where dozens of yachts had their mooring. The Mercedes drove into the parking area, but before he could get out to open the door for his passengers, Jason had already taken care of it.

‘You can pick me up at four o’clock,’ he told the man, flicking back the cuff of his brown silk shirt and glancing at the narrow gold watch circling his wrist. ‘If I need you before, I’ll call.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The chauffeur touched his cap with exaggerated courtesy, and Jason’s lean face displayed the first trace of humour Laura had seen since his appearance. ‘Okay, Ben,’ he acknowledged drily, jerking open Laura’s door and offering her his hand to alight. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Laura got out without any assistance, and Jason’s hand fell to his side without comment. Slamming the door behind her, he waited until his driver had moved away before starting off towards the boardwalk, his long stride covering the ground easily so that Laura had to hurry to keep up.

He was one of the few men who did not make her conscious of her height, she thought reluctantly, his lean frame overtaking hers by a good six inches. It was one of the first things she had noticed about him; that, and the lazy brilliance of his eyes. The fact that he had been at least ten years older than she was had not registered. Despite the fact that until then she had never been interested in older men, her attraction to Jason had been immediate and overwhelming. Was that how it had been with Pamela? she wondered, struggling manfully to remember exactly why she was here.

Jason’s yacht, the Laura M, was moored at the end of the jetty. Laura had thought he might have changed the yacht—or changed its name—but the 84 foot schooner was exactly as she remembered it, its trim white lines gleaming as it nudged against the boardwalk. A man in white shorts and a knitted cotton shirt was already on board, leaning on the rail, talking to a member of the crew of the adjoining craft. But he quickly straightened when he saw Jason, and Laura’s lips parted as she recognised Alec Cowray, the captain of the Laura M.

‘Good morning, Mr Montefiore,’ he greeted Jason politely, lifting his cap and then pushing it back on his bald pate. ‘I didna expect ye to be coming aboard this day.’

‘I didn’t know myself, Mr Cowray,’ responded Jason drily, stepping on to the deck. ‘Don’t disturb yourself. I shan’t be staying longer than a few hours. I gather we do have some food on board?’

‘No problem,’ averred the stout Scotsman, his expression mirroring his confusion, and then he saw Laura. ‘Christ!’ he exclaimed, forgetting to moderate his language. ‘I don’t believe it!’

‘Hello, Mr Cowray. How are you?’ asked Laura awkwardly, following Jason towards the forward hatch. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

‘It’s good to see you, too, miss,’ declared Alec Cowray fervently. He looked helplessly towards his employer. ‘Will that be lunch for two, Mr Montefiore?’

‘Provisionally,’ replied Jason crisply, giving Laura a thoughtful glance. ‘Don’t go to a lot of trouble, Alec. Miss Huyton may not be staying.’

Laura pressed her lips together to prevent herself from voicing an indignant comment as she followed Jason down the gleaming stairway. She was more convinced than ever now that he knew exactly why she had come to the islands, and she fed her resentment in an effort to dispel the effect her surroundings were having on her. He had brought her here deliberately, she thought, knowing what association it would have for her. The first time Jason had made love with her had been aboard this yacht, and she averted her eyes determinedly from the panelled doors to his stateroom. She knew the craft so well—she knew there were three suites; an upper and lower saloon; and a well-equipped galley aft. Yet, for all its size, a crew of three could handle it, using the powerful diesel engines when the sails were not in use.

Jason led the way into the forward saloon, a beautifully furnished living area, with cushioned banquettes, panelled walls, and a soft carpet underfoot. From its windows on three sides, one had an uninterrupted view when the craft was sailing, and Laura remembered moonlit evenings, after she and Jason had dined alone, sitting here and enjoying the starlit beauty of the night …

‘Will you have a drink?’

While she had been absorbing the saloon’s familiarity, Jason had opened up the fitted bar and was presently examining its contents. ‘Gin? Scotch? Vodka? Or would you like me to mix you a Chi-Chi?’ he inquired, mentioning the island cocktail which had once been her favourite.

‘Nothing, thank you,’ she responded tautly, seating herself on the low banquette and imprisoning her hands between her knees. ‘I—well, I’d like to get this over with. I believe you know why I’ve come.’

Jason poured himself a scotch, despite the early hour, and after adding several cubes of ice, looked at her over the rim of the glass. ‘I have a fairly good idea,’ he conceded cynically, swallowing a generous mouthful. ‘I suppose you assume my agreeing to see you gives you the edge. Well—I shouldn’t bank on it, if I were you.’

Laura felt the colour pour into her cheeks at his scathing words, and it was all she could do to remain sitting. But standing would be equally as perilous, and she didn’t want him to see how nervous she really was.

‘I have no—preconceptions,’ she declared now, holding up her head and concentrating on the tasselled cord securing a fall of velvet curtain. The words stuck in her throat, but she had to say them: ‘I’m—grateful—you agreed to see me.’

Jason lowered his glass. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’ he inquired mockingly, and she bent her head to study the tightly clenched bones of her knees.

‘I thought it was possible,’ she agreed carefully. ‘As I said before, Logan didn’t seem to think …’

‘Phil Logan was only doing his job as he saw it. He knows we split up. I guess he got the wrong idea.’

Laura quivered, and when she lifted her eyes to his, the resentment she was feeling was mirrored in their depths. ‘You mean—he thought you got tired of me, don’t you?’ she demanded painfully. ‘Did you disabuse him?’

‘You’re here, aren’t you?’ remarked Jason flatly. ‘That should mean something, even to Logan.’

Laura absorbed his words with a troubled frown. ‘You’re—very generous,’ she murmured unwillingly. ‘I—don’t know what to say.’

‘I’m sure you’ll think of something,’ retorted Jason tersely, finishing the scotch in his glass. ‘I suggest you tell me what you’ve been doing since you left. I know; but I’d like to hear it in your words, just so we understand one another.’

Laura caught her breath. ‘What do you mean?’ she exclaimed, shaking her head. ‘You—know—what I’ve been doing?’

Jason sighed. ‘Must we go into this right now?’

‘Yes, I think we must.’

‘Okay.’ He set down his glass, and came to stand in front of her. ‘But first, I think I should sample the merchandise, don’t you? I mean, it has been three years, and I may have overestimated your appeal!’ And before she could move or even comprehend his meaning, he had circled her wrist with his fingers and jerked her to her feet.

The warm strength of his lean fingers on her nape, as he drew her unresistingly towards him, was the last coherent awareness Laura had before his lips descended on hers. Disbelief; resentment; panic; all were briefly subdued by the hard pressure of his mouth, and her shaken disconcertment opened her lips to his tongue.

His free arm slid around her, drawing her closer into his embrace, and it was the sensuous abrasion of his shirt against her fingers that brought her a returning measure of sanity. But although she fought free of him without too much effort, his shocking behaviour had disturbed her, and she knew he had sensed her involuntary response.

‘How—how dare you?’ she got out, when her breathing had steadied, and she saw the wary gleam that entered his eyes at her words.

‘How dare I?’ he asked, echoing her question. ‘What did you expect? An apology?’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t feel I have anything to apologise for.’

Laura blinked. ‘What are you talking about?’

Jason expelled his breath heavily. ‘Laura, let’s stop playing these games, shall we? You know why you’re here, and I know why you’re here. Okay—maybe I did precipitate matters a little, but you can’t deny you wanted it, just as much as I did.’

Laura gulped. ‘There’s some mistake …’

‘Is there?’

‘Yes.’ Her tongue circled her lips with increasing rapidity. ‘I … I don’t know what—kind of an advantage you think Pamela’s situation gives you, but—but so far as I am concerned …’

‘Wait a minute!’ Jason’s harsh voice broke into her stammered outburst, and she broke off at once, staring at him with troubled eyes. ‘Run that by me again,’ he said grimly. ‘Who is Pamela?’

‘You know who Pamela is,’ she exclaimed. ‘Pamela Huyton. My sister Pamela. Don’t pretend you don’t know about her and Mike!’

Jason fell back a step, still regarding her with distinct incredulity. ‘Your sister Pamela?’ he repeated blankly. ‘What the hell would I know about your sister, for Christ’s sake? And Mike? Mike who?’

‘Mike Kazantis!’ declared Laura quickly, trembling a little as she struggled to take the initiative. ‘You know who Mike Kazantis is, don’t you? Or are you going to deny all knowledge of his identity, too?’

Jason’s mouth thinned. ‘Are you trying to tell me that your sister is in some way involved with Mike Kazantis?’ he inquired tautly, and Laura nodded.

‘But you know,’ she said bitterly. ‘You know you do. Else why did you agree to see me? Unless you thought you could gloat over our misfortunes!’

Jason’s dark features lost all expression, and the lines that bracketed his nose and mouth looked that much more pronounced. ‘Is that the opinion you have of me?’ he said sombrely. ‘Well, well! You really thought I would do a thing like that?’

Laura was not a little confused by now, and in spite of her determination not to let him get the better of her, his quiet words had more than an element of truth in them. But why—if he hadn’t known about his brother-in-law—why had he said he knew why she was here?

‘Wheth—whether you knew or not, you do now,’ she said, forcing herself to go on. ‘Pamela is in the hospital in San Francisco. She took an overdose of sleeping tablets. She’ll live, but I don’t know for how long.’

Jason’s nostrils flared, and with a curious inclination of his head, he moved away towards the bar. Then, swinging round, he poured himself a second glass of scotch, tipping his head back to drink it before turning again to face her.

‘It … it’s barely eleven o’clock,’ Laura exclaimed abruptly, unable to prevent the words from spilling from her lips. ‘Is it wise to—to drink so much?’

Jason’s lips twisted. ‘Not wise at all,’ he conceded sardonically. ‘But that’s my problem, not yours. So. Go on about your sister. Why don’t you think she’ll survive?’

‘Because she’s pregnant!’ Laura pressed the palms of her hands together. ‘And Kazantis has deserted her.’

‘Deserted her?’ Jason considered the phrase. ‘What an old-fashioned expression! You mean, I suppose, that as soon as he discovered your sister had a problem, he took off.’

Laura blinked. ‘He doesn’t know about the baby.’ She frowned. ‘At least, I think he doesn’t.’ It was something she had not thought to ask her sister.

‘I’d guess he does,’ retorted Jason drily. ‘If indeed it is Mike’s.’

‘What do you mean?’ Laura was indignant. ‘Pamela wouldn’t lie about something like that!’

‘And she says it’s his?’

‘Yes.’ Laura drew a trembling breath. ‘Do you know where he is?’

‘Kazantis? Right now?’ Jason shrugged. ‘I’d say—Europe.’

‘Europe!’ Laura blanched. ‘Where in Europe?’

‘Italy.’ Jason dropped his empty glass back on to the bar. ‘At least that’s where Irene is, so …’

‘Italy!’ Laura’s shoulders sagged. ‘Oh, God! Why did he have to be there?’

‘I’m not saying I know it for a fact,’ said Jason evenly. ‘But, like I said, Irene is there right now, visiting my grandparents. And, knowing my father’s ideas about his women, I’d say he’d insist she didn’t go unescorted.’

Laura sank down weakly on to the banquette behind her. ‘For how long?’ she asked helplessly. ‘When will they be coming back?’

‘One month, maybe two. Who knows?’ Jason lifted his shoulders in a dismissing gesture. ‘I’m not my sister’s keeper.’

Laura shook her head, resting her elbows on her knees and cupping her cheeks in her hot palms. ‘Oh, God!’ she said again, feeling the emptiness of despair gripping her insides. ‘What am I going to do?’

It was only partly a rhetorical question, but the sudden breeze through the open door alerted her to the fact that Jason had left her. She was alone in the green and gold beauty of the saloon, alone with her unwilling memories, and with the terrifying realisation that there was nothing she could do.

She supposed she should leave. After all, Jason had done what he could. He had told her where Kazantis was, and he had not disbelieved her story. The anger he might have displayed at the news that Pamela had evidently been having an affair with his sister’s husband had not materialised, and she was simply wasting her time, and his, by pursuing the matter further. Somehow, she was going to have to find a way to tell Pamela that Mike Kazantis was married; that there was no point in her threatening to kill herself again, because he could not marry her. Not unless he got a divorce from Irene, of course, and if Jason was right and he was with his wife, in Italy, that did not seem at all likely. Besides which, Laura had met Irene, and she knew her to be a very beautiful young woman. It had been an outside chance at best that her marriage to Kazantis had floundered. Remembering what she knew of him, Laura doubted anything would prise him away from the wealth and influence that came from being Marco Montefiore’s son-in-law, and contacting Jason had been her last resort.

Which brought her back to that other puzzling development: why had Jason assumed he knew why she was in Hawaii? Was there something she had overlooked? Did he know something she didn’t know? And why had he kissed her? She had been prepared to face his anger, not his passion.

With trembling fingers, she traced the bare contours of her lips. She wore little in the way of cosmetics, just eyeliner and mascara, and occasionally a shiny lip-gloss to frame her mouth. But what little make-up she had been wearing had been erased by his caress, and she couldn’t deny the unwilling awareness that his touch still had the power to melt her bones. If only …

His reappearance with an enamelled beaker which he held out to her arrested her guilty thoughts. ‘Here,’ he said, pushing it into her hand. ‘You look as though you could use it.’

‘What is it?’ she asked foolishly, while the aromatic odour of ground beans floated to her nostrils, and Jason’s mouth pulled down.

‘Just coffee,’ he replied drily, taking off his jacket and pulling off his tie. ‘Laced with heroin, of course!’ He grimaced. ‘Drink it, for God’s sake! I’m not reduced to drugging my women yet!’

Laura obediently sipped the fragrant beverage, recovering a little of her composure in the time it took her to drink it. Jason, she noticed, tossed his jacket and tie aside and flung himself on to the wide velvet cushions at the broad forward end of the cabin, crossing his legs as he had done before and staring broodingly out on to the sunlit dock.

‘So, tell me what happened,’ he said at length, when he had given her time to compose herself. ‘How did your sister meet Kazantis?’

‘I don’t know.’ Laura caught her lower lip between her teeth before continuing: ‘She works—worked—in Sausalito, but she has an apartment in San Francisco.’

‘Since when?’

‘Oh eighteen months, I suppose. She qualified as a physiotherapist in London, but she wanted to travel. I tried to dissuade her from coming to the United States, but …’

‘… she wouldn’t listen?’

‘Right.’ Laura looked down into her cup. ‘She always seemed so much younger than me. It’s only two years, I know, but—well, I’ve always felt much older.’

‘And you didn’t want her to venture out into the bold bad world!’ remarked Jason wryly, running his hand inside the opened neckline of his shirt and in so doing loosening several more buttons. ‘So—she met Kazantis. Why didn’t you warn her?’

‘Warn her?’ Laura looked across the cabin at him, uncomfortably aware of the sensuality of his exploring hand. The skin of his chest exposed by his careless movements was as brown and smooth as she remembered, his nipples taut, an arrowing of fine hair only lightly roughening his flesh. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘She didn’t write to you?’

‘Well, yes. Yes, of course, she wrote.’ Laura dragged her eyes away, and tried to keep her mind on what she was saying. ‘She just didn’t mention her relationship with Mike Kazantis, that’s all. And … and after all, she wouldn’t know who he was.’

‘Who he was?’

‘Yes.’ Laura shifted a little restlessly. ‘Your brother-in-law; Irene’s husband! I … she … we never discussed your relations.’

Jason regarded her intently. ‘But she knew of me? She knew we were living together, didn’t she?’

Laura moistened her lips. ‘She knew we were … close, yes.’

‘But did she know we were living together?’ persisted Jason insistently, and Laura wondered if he already knew the answer.

‘It’s not important,’ she said, shaking her head, but he did not agree.

‘Perhaps, if you’d been more honest with her, she would have felt more able to confide in you,’ he commented brusquely, and Laura met his relentless gaze with hastily-summoned indignation.

‘Are you saying it’s my fault?’ she exclaimed, using anger as a means to avoid his questioning, and he shrugged.

‘I’m saying you were afraid to tell your sister the truth. Why should you be surprised if she feels likewise?’

Laura sniffed, and buried her nose in the beaker. ‘That’s a simplistic way of looking at things,’ she said, in a muffled voice.

‘I’m a simplistic person,’ he responded carelessly, and she thought how ironic it was that he should say a thing like that.

‘You’re the least simplistic person I know,’ she retorted childishly. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, does it matter what I did or didn’t tell her? Pamela’s pregnant, right? And if I hadn’t arrived when I did, she would have been dead!’

Jason considered her for a few nerve-racking moments, then he said quietly: ‘Exactly why did you arrive in California?’

‘Pamela ‘phoned me.’ Laura cradled the beaker between her palms and gazed into space. ‘I’d just got back from Aix …’

‘The South of France, I know.’

‘… and when she rang …’ Laura paused briefly, as the import of what he had said reminded her of something he had said earlier— ‘when she rang, I sensed something was wrong.’

‘Just sensed?’

‘No. No.’ Laura spread a helpless hand. ‘Pamela sounded strange—desperate! I don’t know why, but I knew she had to have rung for a purpose.’

‘A cry for help?’ suggested Jason drily, and Laura looked at him sharply.

‘Don’t you believe me?’

‘Oh, yes.’ He tilted his head back against the dark green velvet and studied her through narrowed eyes. ‘But, objectively, I’d say that perhaps your sister wasn’t as desperate to kill herself as you might think. I mean, she did rig herself a lifeline before jumping over the side, metaphorically speaking, of course.’

Laura sat up straighter. ‘That’s a rotten thing to suggest!’

‘It’s something for you to think about,’ retorted Jason flatly. ‘Laura, I hear of people over-dosing every day. Most of them do a better job of it than your sister appears to have done.’

‘You … you swine!’

Laura set down the cup and got unsteadily to her feet, but before she could make it to the door, Jason was there before her. ‘The simplistic view, remember?’ he said, his back against the panels successfully blocking her exit. ‘Laura, I’m not saying Pamela did this to gain attention, but it has been known. Remember that.’

‘Will you get out of my way?’

Laura’s hands clenched at her sides as she waited for him to move, but he didn’t. ‘Eventually,’ he averred, his tawny eyes resolute between the dark fringe of his lashes. ‘Go sit down. We haven’t finished our conversation.’

‘I have.’

‘Do you want me to use force?’ he inquired lazily, his eyes moving down over her high small breasts thrusting against the thin material of her shirt, to the slender curve of her hips outlined by the tie-waisted cotton pants, and she immediately abandoned her mission.

‘I don’t know what else we can possibly have to say to one another,’ she exclaimed, moving back into the middle of the floor and wrapping her arms about herself, as if for protection. ‘You’ve made your position very clear. Why won’t you let me go?’

Jason straightened away from the door, but he didn’t shift his stance. ‘What are you going to do?’ he asked. ‘Now that your attempt to find your sister’s lover and speak with him has failed, what are you going to tell Pamela?’

‘I don’t know.’ Laura shook her head a trifle wearily. ‘I’ll think of something. If I can persuade her to come back to London with me …’

‘And if you can’t?’

‘Oh, please!’ Laura turned away from him, gazing out through the window, across the blue waters of the yacht basin. ‘Why should you care? Our lives mean nothing to you!’

‘Yours does,’ he retorted crisply, and she turned her head and gazed at him over her shoulder as if she couldn’t believe her ears.

‘What did you say?’

‘You heard me,’ he responded tersely, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Why else do you suppose I’ve had your movements monitored, ever since you ran out on me? I know all about your life in London, and that creep, Pierce Carver, you’ve been living with for the past two and a half years.’

Laura half turned, her lips parting incredulously. ‘I—I am not living with Pierce,’ she protested, indignation vying with disbelief. ‘I work with him, yes, but that’s all. Your investigator was wrong if he told you there was anything between us.’

‘You live at his house!’

‘I have a room there. I also have a flat of my own,’ retorted Laura hotly, and then anger quickly enveloped her. ‘But that’s my business. I don’t have to explain myself to you! It’s nothing to do with you! I said it before and I’ll say it again: how dare you?’

Jason regarded her beneath lowered brows. ‘Why didn’t he come with you to San Francisco?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Doesn’t he care about your sister?’

‘Why should he?’ Laura was trembling with resentment. ‘Oh! I can’t believe this, I really can’t! You’ve actually been having me followed ever since I left Hawaii?’

Jason shrugged, making no immediate response. Then he said flatly, ‘I want you back, Laura. But you should know that. I didn’t want you to leave. That was why I thought you’d come back to Hawaii. I—foolishly, I now realise—imagined you had had second thoughts; that the feelings you used to say you had for me had overwhelmed your much vaunted scruples. I was wrong. I admit it. But that doesn’t alter the situation. I still want you—for the present, at least. Seeing you again has only confirmed that belief. And I’m prepared to go to practically any lengths to get you—even if it means involving your sister!’