of anger shook through her. Scrupulously honest herself, Somer had insisted on booking into the hotel as a guest; her room was quite an expensive one, and she had been glad of the generous cheque her father had given her a month ago to cover the cost and allow her a little extra to refurbish her wardrobe, although wisely she had left beach clothes off her list knowing that she would find a dazzlingly attractive selection in St Helier. Now Judith was treating her much in the manner of a grand lady towards a lowly governess rather than an employee to a hotel guest, but both of them knew that Somer would not complain. Even so she found the courage to say coolly, ‘If you’ll just tell me where I can find Andrew, I’ll let him know that I’m here.’
‘He’ll be having his break,’ Judith responded just as coolly. ‘Guests aren’t allowed in staff quarters. I’ll leave a message for him when he comes back on duty.’
Sensing that to argue would simply demean herself, So-mer took her key and walked towards the lift. Another guest was also waiting for it, a tall man dressed carelessly in faded, frayed shorts which had once been pale denim and were now bleached to a soft bluey grey by constant exposure to sun and salt. The rest of his body was bare and richly tanned and against her will Somer found her gaze drawn to the lean muscularity of it. Dark hair formed an aggressively masculine T-shape across his chest, tapering downwards to disappear beneath the faded denims.
A small sound that could have been either derision or amusement jerked her head back, the shock of cool green eyes smoothly sliding the length of her body in sensual assessment that was far more comprehensive and swift than her own bashful study of his body, jolting her into a blushing awareness that the lift had arrived and that he was waiting for her to precede him into it.
The moment the lift door closed she felt uncomfortable with their enforced intimacy. What was the matter with her, she chided herself mentally. The man lounging so easily beside her was far too physically compelling, far too masculinely attractive to need to attack women in lifts to get his sexual satisfaction. A brief darted glance at him confirmed her earlier impression of languid indolence. If she hadn’t stared so foolishly at him outside the lift he would probably never even have noticed her. She had brought his brief, sexual appraisal of her down on her own shoulders.
Instinctively she knew that he was a man who would always respond to female sexuality; that he was one of those men who possess a seventh sense that enables them to tune in to a woman’s response to them. He was the kind of man she could imagine appealing to the Judiths of this world. Undoubtedly sexually skilled and knowledgeable, and yet possessed of a certain basic raw masculinity that meant that despite that skill there would always be an element of subjugation that would always make him the possessor of a woman’s body; the wholly dominant male.
Without knowing why she found herself taking a pace back, as though somehow he threatened her, even though he hadn’t so much as moved. She could sense that he was watching her, assessing her with those incredible jade eyes, the hard-boned masculine face no doubt making no secret of his amusement at her gauche reaction.
When the lift stopped at her floor she heaved a faint sigh of relief, quickly checked when he stepped out of it behind her. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly in front of her, her legs suddenly as shaky and unsupportive as a newly born colt’s. So aware was she of his presence that she could almost feel the heat of his body against her back, wrapping her in sensual awareness, almost suffocating her, her mind a jumble of confused impressions. She found her door, and then dropped her key as she tried to insert it in the lock, tensing as she felt him stop behind her and retrieve it for her, easily sliding it into place.
When his thumb pushed aside the thick fall of her hair to rub the vulnerable spot just behind her ear she nearly jumped out of her skin, her eyes widening in shocked disbelief, so deeply violet that they were almost black.
Wicked amusement danced in jade-green depths, so deep that she could almost have drowned in them, the hard masculine mouth curling in faint derision as his thumb slid from her ear down her throat resting on the place where her pulse throbbed betrayingly.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ Her voice, which she had wanted to sound sharp and cold, sounded breathy and faintly husky.
‘Just testing to see if you actually are still wet behind the ears,’ he drawled mockingly in response. ‘I don’t know who let you out alone without your leading reins, little girl, but they sure as hell must be worrying about you.’
To Somer’s relief, he removed his fingers from her skin, although it still burned where they had been, her flesh feeling as though it were on fire. Not until she was safely inside her room with the door locked did she dare to relax, flinging herself face down on her bed and letting the tremors she had suppressed outside race violently through her. Andrew had been at first disbelieving and then faintly annoyed when she had told him that she was still a virgin. When she had questioned him about it, a little hurt to discover that he was not pleased as she had expected him to be, he had said simply that sex was more fun when one had more experience. He must have sensed her distress though because he had taken her in his arms afterwards and told her not worry about it, but comforting though his words had been, she had been left with a tiny nagging core of uncertainty. She had always assumed that the man she loved would treasure the gift of her virginity, not consider it as some sort of nuisance.
Now, alone in her room these doubts returned to plague her. Even a stranger seemed to know that she was inexperienced, ‘wet behind the ears’, as he had said so mockingly, with a look in his eyes that told her that he was anything but the same. For some reason as she lay on the bed it was the stranger’s dark green eyes and thick black shock of hair that forced its way into her mind’s eye and not Andrew’s fair attractiveness.
Suddenly restless she got up and walked across to the window. She had a view of the hotel gardens; the tennis courts and swimming-pool spread out immediately below her flower-festooned balcony, and beyond it the shrubs of the natural garden and the cliff that led down to the sea, an impossible blue on this perfect summer’s day.
Still feeling restless she rang room service and ordered a pot of tea, wondering when her luggage would arrive. The sight of Judith in her brief white outfit and the holidaymakers down below, enjoying themselves by the pool, made her feel dowdy in her sensible lightweight wool suit, smart enough for shopping in Aberdeen, and bought from a very good shop, but somehow out of place in her present surroundings.
When the tea arrived but her luggage still had not she rang down to reception relieved to find that Judith wasn’t on duty. The girl who answered was pleasant and promised to have her cases sent straight up. Encouraged by her friendly manner Somer asked if she knew where Andrew might be found. There was a brief pause and the girl’s voice changed, a faintly hesitant note entering it.
‘I’m not sure,’ she told Somer. ‘I think he might be in the office at the moment.’
Thanking her Somer rang off. Andrew had promised that he would take a few days’ holiday while she was staying at the hotel and that they could be alone together to talk over their plans. Suddenly Somer longed for him to be with her; to take her into his arms and kiss away all her doubts and fears, to obliterate completely the face of the mocking stranger who made her feel so aware of her inadequacies.
When her luggage arrived she unpacked carefully, selecting a pale lemon wrap-round skirt in cool cotton and a toning tee-shirt, which she changed into as soon as she had showered. Feeling more in keeping with the other guests she debated whether to remain in her room and wait for Andrew, or to walk through the gardens. In the event the decision was made for her. She was just finishing her second cup of tea when she heard a rap on her door.
‘It’s me, darling,’ Andrew’s familiar voice called. ‘Open the door.’
‘Andrew!’
