was he here at this restaurant?
‘I caught a taxi from the airport.’
‘Have you eaten?’ Renee queried warmly as he took the chair next to Hannah.
‘On the plane,’ Miguel confirmed. ‘However, I’ll join you for coffee.’ He caught hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips, then he linked his fingers through her own and rested them on his thigh.
His smile left her breathless, the faint teasing quality stirring her emotions to fever pitch within seconds.
‘What will you check with me?’ he repeated, giving Hannah his total attention.
It wasn’t fair that one man should possess such devastating sensuality, or that she could be rendered so intensely vulnerable by his look, his touch.
From somewhere she restored order to her scattered thoughts. ‘Christmas. Renee mentioned lunch, if it suits your father to join us for dinner.’
How did Miguel know she’d be dining at this restaurant?
Rodney Spears, Hannah concluded. The bodyguard had obviously reported the change in venue to Miguel. But what had occurred to influence Miguel to drop everything and fly home at a moment’s notice?
Whatever it was, it had to wait until they were alone, and she toyed with her coffee, stirring it unnecessarily, then she sipped the contents without registering the excellent espresso blend.
The next hour seemed to be one of the longest in her life, and she breathed an inward sigh of relief when Miguel indicated they would leave.
Hannah burst into speech the instant they were inside the car, and Miguel effectively silenced her by placing a hand over her mouth.
‘It’ll keep until we get home.’ He put the car in gear and reversed out before heading towards the exit.
‘The hell it will,’ she said fiercely as he joined the flow of traffic and headed towards Toorak.
Miguel slanted her a long glance as he drew to a temporary halt at a set of lights. ‘The thought that I might have cut my trip short just to be here with you does not please you?’
‘I’m still mad at you over the bodyguard bit.’ She met his gaze and held it, then the lights changed and he gave the road his attention. ‘I take it I have Rodney to thank for reporting to you my every move?’
‘That’s what I pay him to do.’
‘A case of total overkill.’
‘You may change your mind when you see what I have to show you.’
Something in his tone stilled the retort she was about to utter. A cold hand closed round her heart, and she searched his features, noting the hard set of his jaw, the serious expression which didn’t bode well.
‘It’s Camille, isn’t it?’ Hannah queried quietly. ‘What has she done?’
Miguel turned the car into their driveway, paused while the electronically controlled gates swung open, then he headed towards the house. Within minutes he entered the garage and cut the engine.
He popped the boot and removed a bag and his briefcase. ‘Let’s go indoors, shall we?’
He led her into the study, dropped his bag to the floor, then he placed the briefcase on the desk, unlocked it, and extracted a large manila envelope.
‘A scanned copy of these was sent to me by e-mail today.’ He withdrew six colour prints and spread them out on the desk. ‘Look at them carefully.’
There was no mistaking the first three prints. They featured herself and Luc sharing lunch. The second three prints were something else entirely.
Miguel and Camille seated at a table together. Worse, they were looking into each other’s eyes with an expression only lovers shared.
Hannah felt sick, and it was all she could do to regulate her breathing. Dear heaven. Miguel and Camille?
‘Look at them very carefully, querida,’ Miguel prompted gently. He was almost afraid to touch her for fear she might shatter. A silent rage reasserted itself, and he consciously held it in check. ‘They are not quite what they seem.’
‘They look real enough to me.’
‘As they are meant to.’ He picked up one print and pointed to Camille. ‘If you look very carefully, you will see there is a slight difference in the reflection of light.’ He picked up a pen and pointed its tip to the print. ‘Here. Do you see?’
The texture wasn’t quite the same, the shade of light reflecting from one set of features compared to the other was fractionally different.
‘The original photograph has been digitally enhanced on a computer. In this particular print your image has been removed, and Camille’s image superimposed. I had it checked out.’ He picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to her. ‘This report confirms it.’
Hannah was silent as she examined the prints again, then she read the in-depth report noting the technical irregularities.
‘What do you think Camille’s next step will be?’ she queried slowly, trying to dispel the ache that had settled round her heart.
‘At a guess, Camille will ensure you receive the second set of prints some time tomorrow.’
‘Delivered personally, with verbal embellishment.’ Hannah predicted. ‘Will she take it further, do you think?’
Miguel arched one eyebrow. ‘The media? She may try. However, these prints will never be used.’ He had influence, and a copy of the technician’s report had already been faxed to various sources.
‘I owe you an apology.’
He took the prints and the report from her hand and locked them in his briefcase.
‘For what, precisely?’
‘Accusing you of overreacting,’ Hannah said simply. ‘And I want to thank you for ensuring I saw those—’ she indicated his briefcase ‘—before Camille dredged every ounce of shock value from them tomorrow.’
She died a thousand deaths just thinking about it.
Miguel lifted a hand and trailed his fingers down her cheek. ‘Camille is about to learn I will not tolerate any form of invasion.’
She looked at him, taking in his strength, the power he exuded, and felt infinitely relieved she wasn’t his enemy. ‘I see.’
His mouth curved slightly. ‘Do you?’
‘Yes.’ It was all about preserving the image, professionally and personally. She told herself she understood. Hadn’t she been reared to be aware of image? The private-school education, extra-curricular activities, the social niceties? Luc had been her only transgression…if believing the false words of a cad could be termed a transgression.
‘I doubt that you do,’ Miguel denied silkily. ‘Verbal abuse is difficult to prove without
