her reflection in the mirror above the basin.
She looked tired, she thought critically, but that wasn’t really surprising. Yesterday she had flown from London to Los Angeles, a journey of some ten hours, and this morning she had caught a delayed flight to Honolulu, which had added another five and a half hours to her travel time. That, combined with a ten-hour time change, made staying awake at any hour of the evening a distinct effort. After all—she glanced at her watch—her body-clock was still working, at least partially, on British time, and right now it was about five o’clock in the morning in London.
The Polynesian housekeeper had told her that Mr Conti usually ate his evening meal at around nine o’clock, which gave her plenty of time to take a shower—or a bath, if she chose—and rest for a while before having to face him again.
Which was just as well, she reflected, pulling the remaining pins out of her hair. The expensive perm she had had before leaving England had not tamed her hair, as she had hoped, and now it tumbled about her shoulders, an uncontrollable mass of crinkles. Of course, the sea air on the journey from the airport hadn’t helped. After reading about the sophistication of American cars she had expected the taxi to have air-conditioning, but if it had the driver had found no use for it. He had driven along with the windows wide open and the invading breeze had been as destructive as it had been welcome. What Alessandro Conti must have thought of her, she couldn’t imagine. Even her suit was crumpled, and, together with the lines of fatigue around her rather pale eyes, she looked altogether unprepossessing.
She was simply not one of those women who looked good in any circumstances, she decided, turning away from the mirror. Her features were acceptable, it was true, but she needed make-up or she looked washed out. Another consequence of having such violently coloured hair, she thought impatiently. Still, in her own world, and her own time, she managed quite successfully, and there had been one or two men over the years who had seemed to find the combination of a mobile mouth and a bubbling sense of humour sufficient compensation. Not men like Alessandro Conti, she had to admit. But then, men like Alessandro Conti didn’t look for their women among career-minded individuals who didn’t regard sex as the be-all and end-all of existence, Camilla reminded herself defensively.
Half an hour later she emerged from the bathroom wearing the towelling bathrobe she had found on the back of the door, and feeling a little better. With reckless abandon she had taken both a bath and a shower, using the latter to wash her hair and cleanse her body of the expensive gel that had created a storm of bubbles in the jacuzzi. It was only afterwards she had realised that she probably shouldn’t have used the bubble-bath in conjunction with the jets, but by then it was too late. Besides, she thought defiantly, Alessandro Conti could afford to have it repaired if she had caused some damage. Clearly, a shortage of material assets was not the reason Virginia had decided to leave home. If hers was just an example of a guest-room at the house Camilla could imagine what the master suite must be like.
Padding, barefoot, across the velvet carpet, she switched on the television set that resided on a bureau opposite the bed, and then padded back to sit on the satin coverlet. She had at least half an hour to fill before she needed to start getting ready, and watching television would take her mind from the chaotic jumble of her thoughts. Time enough later to consider what she was going to do, she decided, settling herself back against the pillows. For the time being she was not going to worry. In spite of her claims to the contrary, Virginia had proved she was not a prisoner, and until Camilla heard differently she would have to assume she could take care of herself.
CAMILLA awoke to unfamiliar sounds—the call of doves from the nearby trees, the shrill cry of a sea-bird, the muted roar of the ocean. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was, or how she came to be here, and she came up on her elbows, blinking as she looked about her.
And then recollection returned to her—or a selective part of it did anyway. She was in Hawaii; on the island of Oahu; and in Alessandro Conti’s house, Kumaru, to be precise. She had arrived there the previous afternoon, only to find Virginia wasn’t here; but she had been shown in to this room, to relax and refresh herself before supper.
She frowned then. For that was as far as her recollection took her. She clearly remembered being shown into this room, and she also remembered taking a bath and washing her hair.
She put up a wary hand to her hair, but apart from a faint slickness, which could have been caused by sweating as she slept, it felt quite dry. But—and it was at this point that a wave of embarrassment swept over her—she was naked beneath the sheet, which was all that covered her. And that simply wasn’t usual. She never slept in the nude. Indeed, she invariably wore old, baggy cotton T-shirts to sleep in, but for this trip she had bought herself two rather glamorous nightgowns from Janet Reger. She had not known if Virginia might still want to indulge in bedtime confidences, and, guessing the kind of nightwear she would favour, Camilla had invested in something she need not feel ashamed of. That was why she felt so uneasy now. She was sure that on this occasion particularly she would not have put herself to bed without her nightgown.
Which meant …
A flush stained her cheeks. The conclusion was obvious. She must have fallen asleep watching the television, and someone else—Mama Lu, probably—had decided not to disturb her. Instead, the bathrobe had been whisked away, she had been covered with the sheet, and her hair left to dry on the pillow.
So what?
Refusing to allow herself to continue down this avenue of thought, Camilla threw back the sheet and slid her legs over the side of the bed. Her nakedness disturbed her, but a swift rummage in one of the suitcases still residing at the foot of the bed produced the satin dressing-gown that matched one of the nightdresses. Wrapping the robe about her, she immediately felt more in control of her destiny, but the memories still rankled.
God, she thought, pushing back the weight of her hair with a frustrated hand, as if the situation hadn’t been complicated enough, without her behaving like some first-time traveller. For heaven’s sake, it was bad enough that she had arrived here unexpected and unannounced, without falling asleep at a time when she was supposed to be having supper with Virginia’s husband!
She sighed. Well, he didn’t have a particularly flattering opinion of her anyway, she consoled herself. It was obvious he had originally believed that Virginia had sent her here to intercede on her behalf, and when she had finally convinced him that this wasn’t so he had still regarded her with some suspicion. With some suspicion! Camilla shook her head disbelievingly. As if he had any reason to be suspicious of her! She was a solicitor, for God’s sake. She was paid to deal with other people’s transgressions, not to be accused of transgressions of her own.
Still, he had seemed to accept her story—or at least an edited version of it—by the time the housekeeper was summoned to show her to this room. Indeed, he had been unexpectedly courteous once he had satisfied himself that she was not actually lying to him. She hadn’t been given the impression that he totally trusted her story, but he certainly hadn’t rejected it.
But now she had undone all the good work she had achieved the night before. Alessandro Conti was hardly likely to remain convinced of her professed concern for Virginia’s whereabouts if she could drop off to sleep as if she hadn’t a care in the world. He might even see it as proof of her complicity, and her heart sank at the probable outcome. If he insisted that she left here now she might never find out what had happened to Virginia, and, for all her helpless loss of consciousness, she was worried.
However, there was nothing she could do about it. Virginia’s husband would decide what course her stay in
