business and no one else’s.
‘Yeah.’ Remy pulled out into the stream of traffic leaving the airport, his lean hands sliding easily around the wheel. ‘I guess your job must stress you out. You need to learn to relax.’
Like you?
Megan pressed her lips together, turning to look out of the window to distract her eyes from his muscled frame. Dear God, she thought, who’d have thought that Anita’s son would turn out to be such a hunk? If he ever got tired of island life, she could get him a modelling job in a minute.
Yet that wasn’t really fair, she acknowledged, noticing that the road from the airport into the town of Port Serrat was now a dual carriageway. Remy might be a hunk, but he didn’t possess the bland good looks of the models she’d dealt with. There was character in his lean features, and a rugged hardness about his mouth. The camera might love him, but she doubted he’d give it a chance.
In fact, he looked a lot like his grandfather, she thought with tightening lips. Ryan Robards had possessed the same raw sexuality that was so evident in his grandson. Of course, Remy might resemble his father, too, but that was something that had never been talked about, not in her presence anyway. She only knew that Anita had been little more than a schoolgirl herself when he was born.
‘So what do you think of the old place?’ he asked now, casting a glance in her direction, and Megan forced her disturbing memories aside. She hadn’t come here to speculate about his parentage, even if her father had used that in his arguments more than once.
‘It’s—beautiful,’ she said, and she meant it. The blur of white beaches and lush vegetation she had seen from the air had resolved itself into the colourful landscape she remembered. Between the twin carriageways, flowering shrubs and vivid flamboyants formed an exotic median, and away to her left the shimmering waters of Orchid Bay glistened in the sun. ‘I always loved coming here.’
‘So why have you stayed away?’ asked Remy flatly, and then, as if realising that was a moot point, he went on, ‘I know Mom’s looking forward to seeing you again. She’s talked about nothing else for days.’
‘Hasn’t she?’ Megan caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘Well, I’m looking forward to seeing her, too.’ She moistened her lips. ‘Um—how—how is your grandfather?’ There, she’d said it. ‘I suppose he must be ready to retire if he hasn’t done so already.’
Was it her imagination or did Remy consider his words before replying? ‘Oh—Pops is still around,’ he said vaguely, but it was obvious he didn’t want to speak about him. Why? she wondered. Because he wasn’t part of this package? Oh, God, she wasn’t strong enough to handle Ryan’s recriminations right now.
There was silence for a while, and Megan stared at the road passing under the car’s wheels without really seeing it at all. She was hot, and even in the air-conditioned comfort of the car she felt uncomfortable. And she was nervous. Why had she agreed to put herself through this? she wondered. She had the feeling she was going to regret it, after all.
The speeding tarmac made her feel dizzy, and she cast a surreptitious look at her companion as he concentrated on the road. His profile was strong, despite the softening effect of thick dark lashes, and the moist hair that curled a little at his nape.
He was attractive, she thought wryly, aware that it was a long time since she had been affected by any man. Not that she was attracted to him, she told herself, except in a purely objective way. He was her ‘nephew’, after all. All he did was make her feel old.
‘What’s wrong?’
He was perceptive, too, and Megan hoped all her thoughts were not as obvious to him. She was going to have to get used to being around him without showing her feelings.
‘Um—nothing,’ she said, forcing a lighter tone. ‘It’s just—strange, being here again. It’s quite a relief to see the island has hardly changed at all.’
Remy’s straight brows ascended. ‘Unlike me, you mean?’ he queried, and she nodded.
‘Well, of course.’ She shrugged. ‘We’ve all changed. I’ve only to look at you to see how much.’
‘Don’t patronise me, Megan—’
‘I wasn’t—’
‘It sounded like it to me.’ Remy’s tawny eyes had darkened now, and she experienced an involuntary shiver. ‘I guess it is hard for you to accept that we can meet on equal terms these days. You were always so conscious of your couple of years’ superiority when we were young.’
Megan gasped. ‘You make me sound like a prig.’
Remy’s lips twitched. ‘Do I?’
‘And it wasn’t—isn‘t—just couple of years’ seniority—’ she emphasised the word ‘—between us.’ She moistened her lips. ‘You were just five or six, the last time I saw you. I was nearly fifteen!’ She grimaced. ‘A teenager, no less.’
‘I was nearly nine,’ declared Remy doggedly. ‘I’m twenty-five, Megan, so don’t act like I’m just out of school.’
Megan swallowed. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you...’
‘You haven’t.’ Remy’s lips twisted. ‘But stop making such a big thing about your age.’ He slowed at the intersection before taking the turning towards El Serrat instead of the island’s capital. ‘Still—as you’re practically senile, haven’t you ever felt the urge to get married?’
Megan felt a nervous laugh bubble up into her throat, but at least it was better than sparring with him. ‘Not lately,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve been too busy. Being your own boss can be a pain as well as a pleasure.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
His response was too laconic, and she gave him a curious look. ‘You know?’
‘Sure.’ His thigh flexed as he changed gear. ‘I work for myself, too. I guess it’s not so high-powered, but it pays the rent.’
Megan looked at him. ‘I suppose you run the hotel now?’ ‘Hell, no.’ He shook his head. ‘I guess you could say I have more sense than to work for Mom. No,’ he said again, ‘I’m a lawyer. I’ve got a small practice in Port Serrat.’
‘A lawyer!’ Megan couldn’t help the incredulity in her tone.
‘Yeah, a lawyer,’ he repeated. ‘A grown-up one as well. I actually defend naughty people in court.’
Megan could feel the colour seeping into her throat. ‘There’s no need to be sarcastic.’
‘Then quit acting like my maiden aunt.’
‘Well—that’s what I am,’ said Megan, with a rueful smile. Then, ‘All right. I apologise. I guess I’ve got a lot to learn about—about all of you. So—how’s your mother? She does still work in the hotel?’
Remy expelled a resigned breath, as if her words had hardly pacified him at all. Then, ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘She practically runs the place these days.’
‘And she’s never married?’ asked Megan, hoping
