she chose food to take away, or took the time to eat in.
Seated at a table overlooking the street was Luc Dubois, looking the relaxed urbane sophisticate he aspired to be.
Now why wasn’t she surprised to see him there? Luc did nothing without motivation. It made her feel distinctly wary.
‘Bonjour, chérie,’ Luc greeted with deliberate warmth. ‘I knew if I sat here long enough it would be only a matter of time before you arrived.’
‘I must remember to change my eating venue.’ Without a further word she turned on her heel and walked out again.
The entire street held several equally trendy eating places. She’d go somewhere else.
Five minutes later she was seated at a table and had just given her order when someone slid into the seat opposite.
‘Whatever the lady ordered,’ Luc instructed the waiter, ‘make it two.’
Hannah cast him an arctic glare. ‘Just what in hell are you trying to pull?’
Luc extended one arm in a sweeping gesture. ‘We’re in public,’ he indicated with an eloquent shrug. ‘Why not combine lunch with a little reminiscing?’
Hannah arched one eyebrow. ‘To what purpose?’
He tried to look hurt. ‘Why, chérie. We shared some good times together.’
She spared him a bitter smile. ‘It took me three months to discover your charm was only an act.’
‘Not all the time.’
‘Oh…p-l-e-a-s-e,’ she discounted wearily.
‘The attraction was Daddy’s bank account and my healthy annuity. I was irrelevant.’ Every instinct told her to get up and walk out now.
The waiter delivered two lattes, and against her better judgement she tore open a sugar tube and tipped the contents into the milky froth. Luc did the same.
She cut straight to the chase. ‘What has Camille paid you to do?’
He spread both hands in a conciliatory gesture.
‘Why should Camille have anything to do with me wanting to share a coffee with you?’
She speared him with a look. ‘Don’t take me for a fool.’
The waiter arrived with two plates, each containing a salad sandwich. As he turned away a flash bulb exploded nearby, and she caught a brief glimpse of a photographer making a rapid exit.
‘Pay dirt,’ Luc informed with a cynical smile.
It all clicked into place in an instant, and Hannah rose to her feet in one angry movement, extracted a note from her purse, then flung it down onto the table and walked out into the street.
Dammit, she should have seen it coming! Luc played a tune to the highest bidder. In this instance, Camille. Another step down a diabolical path towards Camille’s main goal…Miguel. Now, there was photographic evidence Hannah had shared a meal with Luc. It didn’t take a genius to work out how Camille intended to use the photograph.
A car horn blared, and she halted mid-step. Dear God, she whispered shakily as realisation hit that she’d stepped off the footpath onto the road. Get a grip!
Minutes later she entered the boutique, caught Elaine’s surprised look, and offered a humourless smile. ‘That bad, huh?’
‘Are you okay?’
Hannah attempted to downplay the past thirty minutes. ‘Something disagreed with me.’
‘Or someone?’
‘You’re good,’ Hannah accorded wryly. ‘Any problems while I was gone?’
‘I sold two shirts, a scarf, and took two orders.’
‘Well done.’
‘You weren’t away long. Did you get to eat?’
‘I lost my appetite.’ Wasn’t that the truth!
It was after six when she arrived home, and she ate the meal Sofia had prepared for her, then she retreated to the study and keyed in the digits to connect with Miguel’s mobile, only to get his voice-mail.
Maybe he and Alejandro were out to dinner. She left a message, then took a shower and changed into jeans and a singlet top.
Her mother called, and Hannah accepted an invitation to dinner the following evening. They chatted for a while, catching up on each other’s news, and afterwards she watched a television movie before opting to indulge herself by reading in bed.
It was almost eleven when the sudden peal of the telephone startled her into dropping the book, and she caught up the receiver, uttered a brief curse as it slipped from her fingers.
Seconds later she managed an articulate greeting, and heard Miguel’s husky voice on the line.
‘Did I wake you?’
‘No,’ Hannah said at once. ‘I was reading.’
His soft chuckle set all her fine body hairs standing on end. ‘You left a message to call.’
‘I—’ She hesitated, then opted for the banal. ‘How are things going?’
‘What is it?’ Miguel demanded in a dangerously quiet tone.
‘What makes you think something’s wrong?’
‘Querida,’ he drawled with deceptive mildness. ‘Don’t stall.’
‘Luc came into the café opposite the boutique during my lunch break.’ She could almost see his features harden. ‘I refused to join him.’
‘There’s more to the story?’
‘Try having him follow me, sit down at the same table after I’d ordered, then, just as the waiter delivered the food, a photographer appears from nowhere and captured the two of us apparently sharing a meal.’
‘He set you up.’
‘I should have seen it coming,’ Hannah said wretchedly.
‘I’ll take care of him.’ His voice was tensile steel and just as dangerous.
‘What are you going to do?’
Miguel smiled grimly on the other end of the line. ‘Ensure he doesn’t come near you again.’ He waited a beat. ‘Or he will answer to me.’
Hannah shivered. ‘Miguel—’
‘Tomorrow there will be someone to shadow your every move.’
Comprehension dawned. ‘I don’t need a bodyguard!’
There was a brief silence, then he said
