tall and tanned and handsome in his black dinner jacket. He was leaning on the desk, talking to Raoul, who took over the switchboard after Mary-Jo had gone home, and Jordan felt a wave of gratitude sweep over her in his warm familiar presence.
‘Hi,’ she said, her sandalled feet making little sound on the tiled floor, and he turned and straightened and came to greet her.
‘Hi,’ he responded, his hands on her shoulders marvellously reassuring. ‘You looked flushed. Have you been hurrying?’
‘It has been quite a hectic day,’ she conceded, as his lips brushed her cheek. ‘Thank goodness you were at the end of it. I can’t wait to get away from the hotel for a few hours!’
Neil regarded her intently. ‘Really?’ He tucked her arm through his. ‘Well, don’t let’s delay. I’ve got some cocktails cooling over ice, and a fillet of beef cooked with herbs and brandy.’
‘Mmm, it sounds delicious,’ murmured Jordan, giving Raoul a wave of farewell, and then Neil was tucking her into the front seat of his sleek convertible, and the cares of the day just melted into space.
Unlike Jordan and her sister, Neil did not live in his hotel. He had had a single-storied villa built alongside; adjacent to, and yet separate from, the main buildings. Unlike Trade Winds, the accommodation at Coral Cay was provided in a series of beach bungalows, and in consequence, the area it covered was much greater.
Tonight, Jordan could hear the sounds of a beach barbecue as they neared Coral Cay, and the leaping flames of a fire on the sand gave the night an added illumination. Fortunately, it was cooler now than in the heat of the day, but Jordan had no objections when Neil suggested they had their drinks on the verandah.
Because Coral Cay was at the southernmost point of the island, the view was different from the one Jordan was used to. The sea was not so gentle here; there were breakers splintering over the jagged horns of the reef, and although the bathing was adequate, she much preferred the smoother shores of home.
Neil emerged from the house carrying a flask of cocktails and setting two glasses down on the glass-topped table beside her chair, he poured the bubbling liquid. ‘Daiquiris à la Ferris,’ he said teasingly, handing her a wide-lipped glass. ‘Just what you need after a tiring day.’
‘Is it ever!’ murmured Jordan fervently. ‘Beautiful! You’d make a good barman, Neil. If you ever need a job, come and see me.’
Neil subsided into the cushioned chair beside her, depositing a kiss at the corner of her mouth before stretching his legs out before him. ‘The very best part of the day,’ he averred, tasting his own drink. ‘So, tell me: why are you so feeling so drained?’
‘Oh——’ Jordan was glad of the shadows on the verandah to hide her sudden colour. ‘You know—this and that. The usual ups and downs of an hotelier’s life.’
‘And that’s all?’ Neil turned his head to look at her. ‘Just the usual pitch and toss?’
‘What else?’ Jordan lifted one foot to rub her instep lightly against her leg. In the dark, the whiteness of her skirt was a sharp contrast to the brownness of her skin, and she reflected how lucky she was never to need tights or stockings. ‘One of the French girls stood on a sea urchin, and Carlos chose tonight of all nights to go and sprain his ankle.’
‘And that was it?’
‘Well …’ Jordan lifted a slim shoulder, feeling the weight of her hair as it coiled against her neck, ‘there were one or two other irritations, but yes, I guess that was all.’
‘Oh, Jordan!’ Neil leant forward to pour more of the pale liquid into his glass. ‘You’re not telling me you haven’t heard that Rhys Williams is back, are you? According to Karen, she virtually ran into him in town today, and I know she wouldn’t keep that piece of news to herself.’
Jordan stiffened. ‘You’ve spoken to Karen?’
‘Sure. She was in the lobby talking to Raoul when I arrived. As soon as she mentioned Williams’ name I guessed how you’d react. Damn the fellow! What’s he come back here for?’
Jordan hesitated. ‘Rosa told me he was coming for a holiday,’ she admitted after a moment, and Neil frowned.
‘You knew he was coming, then?’
‘Y—e—s.’ Jordan drew the word out. ‘I—it’s not unnatural, is it? I mean, he does own the house at Planter’s Point.’
‘I don’t know how he has the nerve to come here,’ snapped Neil angrily. ‘But I suppose it’s all you can expect from artists!’ The way he said the word was an abuse. ‘I’d have thought he’d have better things to do than come here, raking up old gossip! From the little I’ve read about him in the American press, he’s not been short of female companionship during the past ten years.’
‘Neil, please!’ Jordan sat up, straightening her spine. ‘It’s not that important.’
‘It’s important to me,’ retorted Neil grimly. ‘I may not have had a personal interest in you at that time, but I know how you must have felt when his wife turned up like that. Everyone thought you were going to marry the fellow, didn’t they? No wonder your father didn’t approve!’
Jordan sighed. ‘Look, can we talk about something else? I appreciate your sympathy, but—well, it’s really not necessary. It all happened a long time ago. I was too young to know what I was doing. Let’s forget it, shall we? According to Rosa, he’s only staying a few weeks. I probably won’t even see him.’
IT was raining. After weeks of unmitigated heat, the weather had finally broken, and the downpour promised to soak Jordan long before she reached home. Already it was difficult to see where she was going, the tropical cloudburst causing giant puddles in the road, and almost blinding her as it swept across the bouncing bonnet of the buggy.
There had been only a hint of what was to come before she left the hotel. A distant rumbling had warned of thunder, but the sky had seemed clear enough. However, the storm clouds from the west had blown up with unexpected force, and now the clouds were leaden and the rain was falling with steady persistence.
Sighing, Jordan pulled the buggy over to the side of the road, ignoring the dangers of the bending trunks above her. There didn’t seem much point in scrabbling around in the back of the buggy looking for the storm canopy now. Her face and arms were soaked, as was her hair, and the short skirt of her cotton tunic revealed that her legs were dripping with water, too.
A brief appraisal of her whereabouts informed her that she was only about half a mile from Planter’s Point, and in other circumstances she would have had no hesitation in seeking shelter at her father’s old home. But having survived Rhys’s first week on the island without running into him, she was just beginning to relax, and she had no intention of precipitating a meeting.
Nevertheless, the idea of sitting in the buggy until the storm passed was not attractive to her, and deciding she couldn’t get any wetter than she was now, she slid out on to the grass verge. Through the belt of trees she could see the strand of beach, strewn with the debris blown from the trees, and beyond it the sea, rain-washed and inviting.
On
