the possibility of more grief. She’d had enough of that in her life. ‘No,’ she said.
He’d laughed deep in his throat and slid down her body, his mouth questing as he tasted her sleek skin.
Later, when she was quivering with passionate exhaustion in his arms, he murmured, ‘I’m going to enjoy making you change your mind.’
But, back in her own bed at the hotel, she’d dreamed of Gavin and woke weeping. And when she slipped out early to walk along the white sands, she forced herself to face a few unpleasant facts.
Without realising it, she’d selfishly used Luke. Oh, he’d made it obvious from the start that he intended nothing more than a sexual relationship, but that didn’t make her feel any better.
Her swift, reckless surrender to overwhelming passion had betrayed and tarnished the love she’d shared with Gavin. She tried to conjure up the emotions she’d felt for her fiancé, but against the blazing intensity of her relationship with Luke he seemed faded and shadowy, a lovely memory but no longer the foundation of her life.
Shocked at her shallowness, she’d managed to wangle a seat on a plane to New Zealand. Fortunately Angie had been run off her feet with work, and Iona had flung herself into it, grimly ordering her mind to forget. It hadn’t been easy, but she thought she’d coped quite well.
What malevolent fate had brought Luke back into her life again?
At least, she thought just before she dropped back into a restless slumber, unless he had an emergency in the next two days Angie would be dealing with him.
Hours later the tinny, cheerful tattoo of the theme from Bonanza woke her. Groaning, she crawled up from beneath the sheets, blinked blearily at the morning and grabbed the work phone. ‘Sorted. How can I help you?’
A deep voice said, ‘You are not Ms Makepeace.’
Little chills ran down her spine. Her hand tightened on the phone and she had to swallow to ease a suddenly dry throat.
Luke.
No, not Luke. The different names somehow seemed significant. He was not the man she’d made love to in Tahiti. He was Lukas Michelakis, billionaire.
Striving to sound brisk and businesslike, she said, ‘Iona Guthrie speaking. I’m afraid Ms Makepeace can’t come to the telephone right now. How can I help you?’
‘I need someone here, now,’ Luke said evenly. ‘To take care of a three-year-old girl for the day.’
‘What?’ Iona literally couldn’t believe her ears. Luke Michelakis and a small child simply did not go together.
Impatience tinged his words. ‘I am sure you heard correctly.’
Irked by his tone, Iona ignored her whirling thoughts and didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes. Yes, all right, we can do that.’
‘You are sure this person will be reliable and sensible?’
‘Yes.’
‘I need to leave in half an hour.’
Iona’s mouth thinned. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can, but I’m not going to be able to make it in that time.’
‘You will be here?’
She reacted to his incredulous words with chilly aloofness. ‘L—Mr Michelakis, I’m a trained kindergarten teacher, and the only person you’re likely to get during the weekend at such short notice. The child will be safe in my care.’
‘Oh, call me Luke as you did in Tahiti—we know each other well, you and I,’ he said derisively.
‘So why are you questioning my ability to care for the child?’ The moment the words escaped from her mouth she wished she could call them back.
Sure enough Luke said, ‘Now you’re being deliberately naïve. In Tahiti you were my lover—a very charming and sensuous lover—and nothing more.’
Of course he was right, but his casual statement hurt.
He waited, as if for a comment, and when Iona remained silent he went on brusquely, ‘I have no idea what you will be like with children. And if Chloe is not safe in your care you will pay.’
‘Are you expecting a kidnap attempt?’ Into a taut silence, she said, ‘I certainly wouldn’t be much use if that’s likely to occur.’
‘I am not expecting a kidnap attempt,’ he said coldly.
‘I’m relieved. If all you want is a temporary nanny I can do that. I’m capable and competent when it comes to children. And I like them. I also have a current practising certificate which I’ll be pleased to show you when I arrive.’
The pause seemed to drag on for ever, but finally he said, ‘Very well. It seems I am forced to rely on you for this, so I will expect you here within the half hour. Give me your address. I shall send a car.’
Iona drew in a deep breath, but stifled her intemperate reply when she remembered Angie’s delight at the prospect of an uninterrupted day with her sons. ‘Thank you,’ she snapped.
Angie had said it the night before: this was work, and the business needed the money.
Luke repeated her address after her, then warned, ‘Be ready,’ and hung up.
As she scurried around, assembling a kit that would keep a three-year-old girl interested, questions raced through Iona’s mind. Was little Chloe his daughter? If so, she thought sickly, he must have been married or in a relationship when he’d made love to her in Tahiti.
It should have been a relief to be able to despise him. It certainly explained his antagonism; did he think she’d tell his wife he’d been unfaithful?
Never!
But it seemed unlikely that the mother of his child was with him; if she were, she’d be the one looking after her daughter.
By the time the taxi arrived Iona was ready. She’d had to forego breakfast and a much-needed cup of tea, but her large carry-all had enough in it to keep even a demanding child busy for a day. Stomach clenching, she walked out of the penthouse lift, disconcerted to find Luke in the doorway.
Like a lion lying in wait for an antelope.
Dismayed, Iona ignored the treacherous heat burning along her cheekbones while she replied to his greeting.
A narrowed tawny-gold gaze took in her clothes—cotton trousers that that reached halfway down her calves, a bright T-shirt, sandals. One black brow climbed.
‘Practical,’ he observed cooly, ‘if a little informal.’
‘New Zealanders are noted for their informality,’ she returned in her most professional tone.
‘I recall that very well.’
A lazily sensual note beneath the words raised the tiny hairs on the back of Iona’s neck and sent a forbidden, ruthlessly exciting response
