he may have treated her.
Just as she had fond memories of Rick Richards, and he had treated her just as casually. The fact that he hadn’t actually made love to her down on the beach was beside the point, they both knew she wouldn’t have refused him if he had pressed for her surrender, and although Rick couldn’t know it, for her to have done that would have broken a lifetime determination never to be any man’s playting. The fact that Rick had been gone now for three days without any word from him more than convinced her that she had been a fool about him.
As the days, and then weeks passed, with it came the conviction that she would never see him again, and then the suspicion that perhaps Barbie hadn’t just been the woman who occasionally found him work. Rick had tensed the moment he knew of the other woman’s telephone call, as if he hadn’t expected her to know where he was. And he had left as soon as he had spoken to the other woman, so perhaps Barbie was his wife?
The more Keilly thought about it the more she realised how he had changed when he knew about the call from the other woman, becoming almost—almost guilty in his actions. Surely only married men reacted that way when contacted by another woman like that, men with something to hide? She decided that the other woman had to be his wife, that she had only been a light diversion for him while he was away from London and his wife’s watchful eye.
It was hard to accept that, but after nine weeks went by without a single word from him, not even a Christmas card, she had to believe it. And it hurt. One day she had known him, one evening really, and yet he had made an impression on her previously untouched heart.
She mentally reprimanded herself for being so vulnerable, well aware, with her own fatherless background, ofthe fickleness of men. So she forced herself to settle down to the routine of her life before Rick came, her days spent behind the desk at the hotel, early evenings down at the beach, late evening spent reading a book or watching television. The thought of dating any of the local men didn’t interest her at the moment, none of them firing her imagination as Rick had.
The sea became her friend during those nine weeks, reminding her of Rick and the short time they had spent together, the challenge she made of the surging sea now, banishing Rick from her heart each time she battled the water that refused to be beaten. Maybe to Rick their meeting had all been a practised—and well-used—line, but he had been right to liken her to the untamed sea, and during those long lonely weeks since his departure her moods had become as erratic, calm and tranquil one moment, raging furiously the next. She knew she was impossible to live with, that the family treated her warily, and yet she couldn’t shake off her black moods of depression, knew that her anger was directed mainly at herself for falling for the seduction of such a man. She may have thought she had found someone special, but all she had found was a lonely husband away from home and looking for a little fun.
‘If you promise I won’t freeze to death I’ll join you.’
She looked up sharply from her sitting position on the sand, in the process of taking off her towelling robe ready for her evening swim. Rick stood several feet away, very like he had on the first and only other night they had ever met, although this time he wasn’t wearing the thick sheepskin jacket but a beach-robe similar to her own, his bare legs strong and tanned, covered with a fine sprinkling of dark hair. His beard was still neatly trimmed, although his hair had grown longer, giving him a more rakish air than ever. Lastly she looked at his face, blue eyes twinkling warmly, affecting her in spite of the logical warnings of her brain.
Although it seemed to her as if she had been staring at him for hours she knew her appraisal could only have taken a matter of seconds at the most, schooling her features to remain coolly uninterested. ‘I couldn’t promise you that,’ she returned distantly. ‘I haven’t been in myself yet.’
‘I could hardly believe it when your aunt told me you swim on evenings like this too!’
‘If it’s warm enough, yes,’ she said flatly.
Rick turned narrowed eyes out to the blue-grey sea. ‘It looks stormy tonight,’ he murmured, almost as if they had only spoken the previous evening and not weeks ago, feeling no awkwardness with her.
‘Yes,’ she agreed abruptly, although she knew from experience that didn’t necessarily mean the water would be icy cold.
The searching gaze returned to her composed features. ‘Like you,’ he added softly.
Her brows rose. ‘I’m perfectly calm,’ she replied coolly. ‘It’s so nice of you to pay us another visit, Mr Richards,’ she added politely. ‘When did you arrive?’
‘About ten minutes ago, I wanted to surprise you.’
Oh he had done that all right! She had begun to accept his absence from her life, not particularly willingly, but she had accepted it had all been a game to him. He had no right to come back here after all this time and act as if he had never been away!
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