furiously. She would have to watch herself around him if she was to have any hope of winning her battle. That it might be lost already, she couldn’t afford to consider. ‘Very well, I’ll go,’ she conceded. Keeping up the fiction of being Allie Martine wouldn’t be easy, but she would find a way.
Keeping up the fiction that Jase had no effect on her—now there was the real challenge.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS easier than she had anticipated for the simple reason that Jase declined her offer to prepare a meal for them and went out for the evening. Royal or not Talay was perfectly able to cook, having been taught at boarding school. The king himself was an enthusiastic cook and had taught Talay some of his favourite recipes.
So she felt more than a little piqued when Jase announced he was attending a business dinner that evening. He seemed almost eager to escape the villa, and she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was part of the reason.
Had he somehow guessed her identity? She didn’t think so and she had looked forward to the evening to provide her best chance to impress upon him the uniqueness of Crystal Bay. Now she would have to wait until he took her to visit the site to spend more time with him.
Frustration gnawed at her. As a princess, she could have requested his company at dinner and he would have felt bound by protocol to accept, no matter what other engagements pressed him. However, as Allie Martine she had no such influence.
‘I’d invite you to join me but it’s mainly business,’ he explained.
She pretended indifference. ‘Please don’t concern yourself. I’m looking forward to a restful evening at home.’
‘After your long journey,’ he said.
Her blank look almost betrayed her until she remembered the trip she was supposed to have taken. ‘It’s a three-hour drive from the capital. No wonder I’m all in.’
His eyes narrowed speculatively. ‘Which reminds me. I’m surprised Michael let you drive back alone. Didn’t he insist you have a driver?’ He looked around as if seeking evidence of one. But the longest ‘journey’ Talay had taken was to the Martine villa from her residence, a mere twenty minutes’ drive away, where her bodyguard had returned with the car after dropping her here.
‘Michael is a husband, not a keeper,’ she said tartly, aware that her ill humour had a lot to do with Jase deserting her for the evening. She pushed the feeling away. ‘He doesn’t let his wife do anything. She makes up her own mind. I’m well able to drive myself wherever I wish to go.’ She winced inwardly as a betrayingly regal note crept into her tone.
He didn’t appear to notice because his attention was fixed on something else. ‘Is it a peculiarly Sapphan custom to talk about yourself in the third person?’
‘Sometimes,’ she said warily. It wasn’t, but it enabled her to stick to the truth as much as possible.
‘I see.’ He straightened his tie and the simple act drew her gaze upwards, back to the hawk-like planes of his face. Stripped off to swim, he had looked awesome. It was hard to believe he could look even more prepossessing in a maroon tuxedo with a blindingly white dress shirt which showed off his Australian tan to perfection. ‘I’d better get going. It’s a shame the guest villa isn’t available. I don’t want to wake you if I return late.’
The message was clear—don’t wait up. She felt a quick flaring of anger but controlled it. What he did was no concern of hers, except as it affected her beloved province. ‘I’m not your keeper, either, Jase. Return as late as you wish. My bedroom suite is sufficiently far from the front door that you’re unlikely to wake me.’ Unlikely because he had disturbed her so much she was sure she would have trouble sleeping at all tonight.
‘Then I’ll wish you a good evening. If Michael rings give him my thanks and best regards.’
She inclined her head. ‘Of course.’
Then he was gone and the villa echoed with emptiness. Having spent many nights at her uncle’s vast Pearl Palace at Andaman, she wasn’t troubled by the emptiness. But she had never been so conscious of it before, as if some vital force had been drained from the rooms.
She started to pace then checked the action. She wasn’t bothered by Jase’s unexpected departure, only that it had robbed her of the chance to discuss his plans with him, she told herself. Nothing else explained the sensation that she would explode if she didn’t move.
The feeling almost drove her back to the swimming pool, but Jase had stamped his presence on it too indelibly. It wouldn’t help to be reminded of what a narrow band of Lycra could do for the male physique, in his case at least.
She resisted the vision, knowing the link between them was more than physical. Some of her more spiritual friends would say they had known each other in a previous life. She had certainly known him somewhere but more probably in this life. But where and when? Men like Jase Clendon were not easily forgotten. It would come to her in time.
In the meantime, she had told Allie that she wanted to use the villa to work on some new jewellery designs for her collection so that was precisely what she would do. Beyond his involvement with Crystal Bay, Jase meant nothing to her. She wouldn’t even miss him this evening.
As she rounded up her drawing materials she wondered why she found herself remembering Allie’s favourite English phrase about pigs flying.
Jase’s fingers drummed impatiently on the armrest as his driver negotiated the busy streets of Alohan, capital of Pearl Province. Traffic here was nowhere near as bad as in Andaman but it was bad enough.
He wished fervently that he had elected to drive himself, instead of letting his associates send a limousine for him. The traffic would have served as a distraction from thoughts he had no business thinking, such as how exotically beautiful Allie Martine was. No wonder Michael had fallen headlong for her, giving up his Australian citizenship to live permanently in Sapphan. For a woman like Allie, it wouldn’t be a sacrifice, Jase thought.
His stomach muscles tightened as he remembered how she had looked in a swimsuit. It was modest enough, covering far more of her body than the garments Australian women wore back home on Bondi Beach. But, in Allie’s case, the sensuous fabric hinted at secrets which practically invited exploration.
Lord, it was hot in here, he thought, reaching to turn up the air conditioning in the passenger compartment. The collar of his dress shirt felt tight suddenly and he hooked a finger into it, knowing the collar had fitted perfectly well when he had left the villa.
It came to him that Allie hadn’t been pleased to hear he was going out for the evening. The thought of spending the evening alone with her in the villa as the sun set and darkness gathered around them had him tugging at the collar once more. He hadn’t actually planned this business dinner until he had met her but it was the only sensible option. If he had stayed with her tonight...
He slammed one fist into the other palm so hard that pain vibrated all the way to his shoulders, shattering the image before it could take form. Allie was married, for goodness’ sake. She knew what could happen when a man and a woman struck sparks off each other the way they did. She should be grateful he had taken the initiative and removed himself from temptation.
Another thought occurred to him. She was married, but she
