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He’d heard her footsteps and turned almost before she’d had a chance to school her expression. She saw dark brown eyes, long-lashed, above hollow cheekbones, a prominent nose and a thin, yet sensual mouth. Not handsome, she thought, but endlessly fascinating. For the first time she allowed the thought that Dee-Dee might just be right.
‘Hi,’ he said, his voice as rich and dark as black coffee. If he recognised her, he gave no sign of it. ‘Is Myers about?’
Lily hesitated. So he knew Ray, she thought. She hadn’t sensed that. Although he spoke in English, he had a faint but distinct accent, as if it wasn’t his first language.
‘Um... Mr Myers isn’t here,’ she said, realising he was waiting for an answer. ‘Are you a friend of his?’
Oliveira looked as if he doubted the innocence of that question, but he didn’t take her up on it. ‘Not a friend,’ he said. ‘But we a
re acquainted. My name is Rafe Oliveira. He would remember me, I think.’
Lily thought that as far as she was concerned he was virtually unforgettable, but of course she didn’t say that. Did he know of his notoriety amongst the island’s inhabitants?
And he called himself Rafe, she mused, liking it better than Raphael.
Shaking her head at her thoughts, she said, ‘Well, I’m afraid Mr Myers is in Miami at present.’ Then, subconsciously checking the fact that the hem of her vest had pulled free of her shorts as she got up, she added quickly, ‘Can I help you?’
The man regarded her and Lily was instantly aware that the precarious knot she’d made of her tawny hair that morning was beginning to tumble about her ears. Add to that the fact that she was wearing little make-up, and she probably looked hot and bothered.
What an image!
‘I think not,’ Oliveira said now, lifting his shoulders in a gesture of dismissal, and once again Lily was struck by his harsh attraction.
Though it was not something she wished to dwell on. Her father would have kittens if he thought she was entertaining such thoughts about a man who had created such a stir amongst the island’s population.
‘When will Myers be back?’
His words interrupted her musings, and Lily arched brows that were several shades darker than her hair. He’d called Ray ‘Myers’ again, she thought. Which was hardly friendly. Maybe even assuming Ray was an acquaintance was pushing it.
His eyes had drifted towards the marina again and, taking the opportunity to tug her vest down over the wedge of tanned skin she’d exposed, Lily said, ‘He should be back the day after tomorrow. Can I give him a message?’
The night-dark eyes turned back in her direction and she was suddenly sure he’d noticed her efforts to cover herself. Not because she could read his mind, however, but because of the faintly mocking expression that had taken the place of his earlier detachment.
‘No importa,’ he said and, although the words were anything but sensual, she felt an unfamiliar quiver in her stomach. ‘It does not matter,’ he continued. ‘I will speak to him myself when he returns.’
‘Okay.’
Lily expected he would go then, but instead he wandered over to the display of leaflets and brochures advertising the many activities—sailing, fishing, scuba-diving—available to visitors.
Flicking through the leaflets with a careless finger, he glanced back at her out of the corners of his eyes. ‘Did you enjoy your swim the other evening?’ he asked, bringing a surge of bright colour into her face.
From his attitude earlier, she’d begun to believe he couldn’t have recognised her from that distance away. She’d never dreamt that he might refer to the fact that he’d seen her, or that he’d guessed what she’d planned to do before he’d appeared.
Had he seen her on the beach before?
Licking her dry lips, she said stiffly, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, señor.’ And if her tone was tight and unfriendly, so what? ‘It’s some time since I took a swim in the evening.’
Abandoning any pretence of looking at the brochures, he strolled back to the counter, surveying her with a faintly amused gaze. ‘You object to my question?’ he queried lightly, making her painfully aware that he had no trouble in reading her at all.
‘Why should I?’ she retorted shortly, realising he was unlikely to believe her. ‘Now, is there anything else, señor? Because, if not, I have work to do.’
‘So conscientious,’ he remarked softly, lifting a hand to rake long fingers through the wind-tumbled darkness of his hair. The gesture caused a crease to form in the sleeve of his jacket, and she found herself wondering if the leather felt as soft as it looked.
Unlike the arm underneath, she thought, which she was sure would be taut and corded with muscle.
But such thoughts were not conducive to lowering her blood pressure. The air in the room felt suddenly thicker and Lily folded her arms, as if by doing so she could protect herself from his disturbing presence.
Why didn’t he go? she wondered. His business was finished here. Did it amuse him to make fun of her? And why, when he was so obviously out of her league, did her stomach keep tying itself in knots?
