Pacific Heat. Anne Mather
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this all?’ he asked, and for a moment she didn’t know what he was talking about. ‘Your luggage,’ he prompted, and, glancing up at him, she noticed he had tawny eyes. Like a cat, she thought, realising she was behaving stupidly. For God’s sake, he was being polite. Nothing else.
‘Um—no, there’s one more,’ she said hurriedly, scanning the conveyor. ‘It’s always the way, isn’t it? One comes, and then you’ve got to wait for ever for the other.’ She glanced towards his companion, who was still standing with the holdall in his hand and the suit carrier draped over his shoulder. ‘Please—don’t let me keep you. I’m sure your friend must be getting impatient.’
‘B.J.?’ He, too, glanced the other man’s way, and then turned back to give Olivia a lazy smile. ‘No sweat,’ he said as Olivia’s toes curled inside her Doc Martens. ‘It’s cooler in here than outside.’
‘Oh, but—’ Olivia wanted to ask why he was waiting with her, but she couldn’t. Loosening the tight cuffs of her jacket, she peeled them back over her wrists. ‘Um—do you think Miss Haran’s secretary will be waiting outside? She said she’d come to meet me herself.’
‘Bonnie?’
He had the name right, and Olivia nodded. ‘A Miss Lovelace,’ she agreed, not used to using the woman’s given name.
‘I guess she’ll be waiting in the Arrivals Hall,’ he responded carelessly. ‘I’ll point her out to you when we go through.’
Olivia caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘I—gather you’re a friend of Miss Haran’s,’ she said awkwardly, and he made a husky sound of disbelief.
‘Hell, yes,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry; I didn’t introduce myself, did I? I’m Joe Castellano. I—guess you could say I have an investment in Diane’s career.’
He held out his hand, and Olivia had no choice but to shake it, hoping he wouldn’t be too put off by her sweaty palm. ‘How do you do, Mr Castellano?’ she said, wondering if he was a frequent visitor to Diane’s Beverly Hills mansion. It would be rather nice, she thought, if he was.
She barely had time to extract her hand before she saw her other suitcase approaching. There were quite a lot of people gathered round the carousel now, and she saw several of the women weighing up the man at her side. And why not? she thought ruefully. He was attractive. Was he married? she wondered, rather foolishly. He was wearing a signet ring on his right hand but that was all.
When her suitcase was within reach, she lunged for it, staggering as the unexpected weight of the bag pulled at her arm. ‘Let me,’ he said shortly, and she felt his impatience. He set the suitcase down and summoned a porter with a trolley. ‘I guess we can get moving now?’
‘Right.’
She had little choice but to follow the porter, and to her relief they passed through the Customs channel without incident. It crossed her mind as they were walking past the officials that he could be a drug smuggler using her as cover. But she decided she was allowing her imagination to get the better of her again. Just because he had an Italian surname, that did not mean he was connected to the ‘mob’.
Beyond the baggage collection area, a barrier separated arriving passengers from those waiting to meet them, and Olivia immediately saw her name on a board being held up by a woman at the end of a line of similar boards.
‘That must be Miss Lovelace,’ she said to her companion, nodding towards the rather harassed-looking woman with tinted blonde hair and immaculate make-up who was scanning the new arrivals. Olivia guessed the woman was in her forties but her skirt was shorter than anything she’d have worn herself.
He nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s Bonnie. But don’t call her Miss Lovelace. She prefers the anonymous Ms.’ He grinned at Olivia, and once again she was struck by his magnetism. ‘You’re going to be dealing with some tender egos here. Keep that in mind.’
The woman had seen them now but from her expression Olivia guessed she hadn’t made any connection between them. Or perhaps she had and it was the wrong one, she reflected doubtfully. It was flattering to think Miss Lovelace—Ms Lovelace, she corrected herself firmly—had assumed she was travelling with him. But this was the moment when she had to come down to earth.
‘Hey, Joe.’ Bonnie Lovelace greeted him like a long-lost friend. Then her eyes moved suspiciously to Olivia. ‘Diane said you’d be on this flight. She’s missed you. Did you have a good trip?’
‘The usual,’ drawled Joe as the porter halted uncertainly beside them. He slipped a note into the man’s hand and indicated Olivia. ‘These ladies will show you where their transport is parked.’
Bonnie Lovelace’s jaw dropped as she turned back to Olivia. ‘You’re Ms Pyatt?’ she exclaimed, and Joe touched her shoulder with a mocking hand.
‘Who else?’ he asked. ‘I just thought I’d do my good deed for the day and deliver her into your hands, Bonnie.’ He arched a brow at Olivia. ‘Take care. I’m sure I’ll see you around.’
Olivia didn’t know who was the most deflated as he strolled off with the man he’d called BJ. but she suspected it had to be her, judging by the way she felt. She swallowed her chagrin. So—he was a friend of Diane’s. She’d been told as much so why did she feel so disappointed now?
‘Ms Pyatt.’ Bonnie seemed to come to her senses, too, and, holding out her hand, she took Olivia’s in a limp grip. ‘You must forgive me,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise it was you with Joe—er—with Mr Castellano.’ She gestured to the porter to follow them and as they moved along she added, ‘Did you travel out together? How did he know who you were?’
‘He—helped me with my luggage so I suppose he read the labels,’ said Olivia after a moment, curiously loath to discuss the details of how they’d met. It was nothing to do with this woman after all. She was just curious. Probably wondering why he’d even bothered to speak to her, she thought glumly, changing her tote bag from one shoulder to the other.
‘Mmm.’ Bonnie gave her another assessing look, and then excused herself to head first through the glass doors that gave onto the concourse outside. ‘I left Manuel in the car,’ she added, glancing about her as the porter halted beside them. ‘Oh, there he is.’ She waved her arm at a man seated behind the wheel of a huge Mercedes. ‘It’s so difficult to find a parking space. Do you have this problem back home?’
‘Sometimes,’ answered Olivia absently, her attention caught by the sleek black saloon that was just moving past them. Joe Castellano was at the wheel, and he raised one hand in a casual salute. ‘Um—’ She gathered her wits. ‘I don’t own a car, actually. It’s not worth it in London, and if I want to go further I have an old Harley-Davidson in the garage.’
Bonnie stopped in the act of lifting the boot lid of the Mercedes to stare at her. ‘You ride a motorcycle?’ she exclaimed in horror. And then said, ‘Well, I guess you are tall enough at that.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Olivia weathered the back-handed compliment with her usual forbearance, and as Manuel slid out from behind the wheel to open the rear door for her she slipped inside.
Soft leather, air-conditioning and the fragrance of expensive perfume were some consolation. Unbelievable, she thought, stretching her long legs luxuriously. Wait until she could tell her stepmother about this! Unlike her father, Alice had been able to see the advantages of what she was being offered, and there was no doubt that it was going to be an experience she wouldn’t forget.
Which reminded her that she hadn’t thought of her ex-husband for the past half hour. From the moment Joe Castellano had spoken to her, she’d completely forgotten that she’d soon be seeing Richard again. Oh, God, she thought as the realisation that she was actually here in California penetrated the haze of anticipation she was feeling. She dreaded to think what his reaction was going to be.
Bonnie got in beside her at that moment, which prevented her from continuing along that stony track. And besides,