Sinful Pleasures. Anne Mather
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me do that.’ But he merely tipped his head back and cast her an ironic look and carried on.
She glanced down, her eyes unwillingly drawn to his bent head. His hair was glistening with moisture, she noticed, tiny drops of water shining on the dark strands. He had either taken a shower or a swim while she’d been resting, she reflected, the images her thoughts were evoking causing a moistness in her palms.
She sighed. Why couldn’t she ignore him? Yet, crouched in front of her as he was, she would have had to be numb as well as blind not to notice the straining seam between his legs. Despite her irritation with him earlier, she couldn’t deny his sexuality. It was as natural to him as breathing. Just like his grandfather’s had been...
‘Will—will Mr Robards be joining us?’ she asked stiffly—anything to distract herself from what he was doing—and as if her words had diverted him, too, he rose abruptly to his feet.
‘I guess I owe you an apology, don’t I?’ he said, without answering her question. ‘I was an ignorant lout before. I’m sorry.’
Megan was confused. ‘Oh—well, I—it was my fault really—’
‘I don’t mean for spilling your drink,’ he contradicted her drily. ‘I mean for the way I spoke to you in the car. I guess I had no right to criticise you or your father as I did.’
‘Oh.’ Megan let her breath out slowly. She was finding it difficult to keep abreast of his changes of mood. Or at least that was the excuse she gave herself. But there was no denying that he disturbed her, and it would be fatally easy to respond to his charm. ‘Let’s forget it, shall we?’
‘I’m forgiven?’
‘Of course.’ She was abrupt.
‘Is your drink all right?’
Her glass was still more than half full, and she hurriedly took a sip. ‘It’s delicious,’ she said, hoping she sounded more controlled than she felt. ‘Um—will your grandfather be joining us?’
Remy hesitated for a moment, and then he shook his head. ‘Not tonight,’ he said, his tone flatter now. ‘And I’ve got to be getting back to town myself.’
‘You don’t live here?’
Megan realised at once that her response had been far too revealing. Dammit, she should have guessed he’d have his own place as soon as he’d told her he worked in Port Serrat.
‘I have an apartment near the harbour,’ he said, his eyes assessing her. ‘It’s handy for the office. Like tonight, I sometimes have to work in the evenings.’
She swallowed. ‘You’re working this evening?’ she asked, managing to sound less daunted, and he smiled.
‘I’ve a client who works in one of the hotels,’ he explained. ‘It’s difficult for him to keep sociable hours.’
‘So you accommodate him?’
‘I’m an accommodating fellow,’ he remarked mockingly, and she realised how easily he could disconcert her. How did he do that, when she was usually so at ease with men? It was as if he had a conduit to her soul.
‘So,’ she persevered firmly, ‘do you often work long hours?’
‘When I have to.’ He shrugged. ‘Otherwise I’d like nothing better than to join you and Mom for dinner.’ His eyes held hers with deliberate provocation. ‘I can’t wait to hear what you’ve been doing with yourself. Apart from nearly killing yourself, that is.’
Megan shook her head. ‘It was hardly that.’
‘I heard it was,’ he contradicted her gently. ‘Is that why you’re so edgy? Or is it just me?’
Megan coloured then. She couldn’t help it. She could feel the heat spreading up her neck, darkening the exposed hollow of her throat, and seeping into her hairline.
‘I’m not edgy,’ she denied, producing a smile that probably gave her words the lie. ‘I’m tired, I suppose, but that’s understandable. It’s been a long day.’
‘Yeah, I guess it has,’ he said, his tone softening. He lifted one hand and to her dismay he rubbed his knuckles along the curve of her jawline. ‘You’ll feel better in the morning. All you need is a good night’s sleep.’
Megan drew her chin back automatically. His warm knuckles were absurdly sensual, hinting at an intimacy she couldn’t begin to cope with.
She didn’t say anything, but she knew he was aware of her withdrawal. His hand fell to his side, and his eyes narrowed on the way her chest rose and fell in a nervous display.
‘Relax,’ he said. ‘What are you afraid of? I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘I never—I don’t know what you mean—’
Megan stumbled to deny his mocking accusation, but before she could get coherency into her words Anita’s voice interrupted them.
‘I’m sorry, Megan—’ she was saying as she came into the room, before breaking off in some surprise when she saw her son. ‘Why, Remy!’ she exclaimed, not without some asperity. ‘I thought you were leaving half an hour ago.’
There was an awkward pause, when Megan wondered if what had gone before was visible on their faces, and then Remy seemed to find his voice. ‘Well, as you can see, I’m still here,’ he remarked tersely. ‘I wasn’t aware I had to report my whereabouts to you.’
Anita flushed, as stung by his words in her turn as Megan had been earlier. ‘You don’t, of course,’ she said. ‘But I could have done with your assistance. The air-conditioning went out in one of the bungalows, and I couldn’t get in touch with Carlos.’
‘Have you fixed it?’
Remy was slightly less aggressive now, and his mother took a steadying breath. ‘At last,’ she said. ‘It was only a fuse, thank goodness. But—but—your grandfather’s rather fractious this evening, and I didn’t really have the time to go charging about looking for spares.’
‘I’m sorry.’
There was still an edge to Remy’s voice, and, realising she should say something in his defence, Megan chipped in. ‘Um—Remy’s been keeping me company, I’m afraid,’ she said apologetically. ‘I probably delayed him, or he would have been gone.’
Anita managed a faint smile. ‘Don’t give it another thought. Either of you,’ she added, looking at her son. ‘I’m sorry if I sounded harassed. It’s just one of the joys of running a hotel.’
Remy straightened his spine. ‘Then I guess I will get going.’ He looked at Megan. ‘Now that you’ve got my mother to entertain you, you won’t need me any more. Enjoy your evening, won’t you? I’ll think of you while I’m earning my lonely crust.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly, Remy.’ Anita evidently thought her son’s manner was due to what she’d said, but Megan wasn’t so sure. ‘Naturally, if I’d thought you had the time to stay and have a drink with us, I’d have suggested it. It was you who said you had work to do this evening.’
‘And I do,’ said Remy flatly, arching a mocking brow in Megan’s direction. ‘I’ll see you—both—later, though maybe not tomorrow. I’ve got to go to the Beaufort plantation in the afternoon.’
‘All right, darling.’ Reassured, Anita gave her son’s arm a squeeze. ‘Give my love to Rachel when you see her, won’t you? Tell her it’s been far too long since she’s come to visit.’
MEGAN slept fitfully, even though she was tired, waking the next morning before it was really light. Even the lingering effects of her illness were not enough to counter her body’s rhythms. It was obvious her system was still