though he owned the hotel, the resort and most of the world around it.
Confident. Strong. Impressive.
Simon Reynolds had been brought up to be a leader amongst men, and it showed in every step that he took—no matter where he was or what he was wearing.
In fact she might have been intimidated by him if it had not been for a few tiny aspects of his new look. The supersmart, casual but expensive preppy clothes his mother had used to buy him in London when he was a student had been replaced by a loose short-sleeved shirt made from the same type of striped fabric she had seen being worn at the airport the previous evening. The faded and darned fabric hung over the scruffiest trousers she had ever seen in her life. The knees were patched with several irregular pieces of fabric in various patterns, which seemed to have been cut out with the same nail scissors he had used to trim his hair. A brown cowhide shoulder bag was slung casually across his chest.
He was unshaven, he was trailing a line of red dust along the floor as he walked, and he looked tastier than hot bread straight from the oven.
Mouth-watering. Hot. Bread.
Perhaps he was more country Sourdough than buttery brioche, but Simon Reynolds still looked just as delicious, and her treacherous heart yearned for a taste.
Her whole body prickled to attention, aware of every move that he made.
Kate sucked in a breath, dropped her gaze, and pretended to gather together her papers on the table, trying to ignore the hot pulsing of the blood in her head as her fingers fumbled and trembled.
Then Simon took another step forward, pausing to greet a delegate on the way, and the air seemed to catch in her lungs in the form of her old nervous cough. The one she had thought she had got rid of.
She couldn’t do it.
She couldn’t talk to him like this in front of the other people in the room. Her emotions were too open and exposed. And her failure to control herself had hit so hard that she knew she would have to escape until she could steady herself.
A minute. That was it. She needed a minute to get her head straight before she went back to work. This time she would be the one running away from him.
Simon watched from the other side of the room as Kate quickly gathered together her paperwork and strolled out onto the hotel terrace, her back straight and her shoulders high with tension.
Kate O’Neill!
Of all the technology conferences in the entire world she had to walk into this one.
He could hardly believe it! But there could only be one tall, curvaceous, elegant blonde-haired woman called Kate O’Neill, and it had taken a single brief glance to confirm it. Katie was back in his life.
He had not even realised that she was working for the same international IT company that was sponsoring his project until an hour ago, when he had finally managed to get through to Andy and her name had echoed down the line like a bolt from above.
Andy Parsons was his contact, his friend, and his longstanding connection to the outside world from the remote rural village in the Volta area of Eastern Ghana where Simon had made his home. Andy had been a keen supporter of his work right from the first time he had met him with his dad all those years ago. Only now Andy was back in England with his new babies, and judging from the telephone conversation they’d had that morning he was so thrilled and stunned that Simon could not begrudge him one single moment of that happiness. Andy had earned it with years of dedication and hard work serving the same people Simon was trying to help now.
Of course Andy had wished him well for his presentation on the pilot study they had worked so hard together to make reality. He believed that Kate O’Neill would be an ideal replacement for him at the conference, and well able to back Simon up in the technical questions.
What Andy did not know—and what he could never know because Simon had not told him—was that Simon and Kate had a history together. Andy had been replaced by the only woman who had every reason to hate his guts. The same woman he needed to be his most avid supporter.
Just fantastic!
Simon ran one hand through his hair, which was freshly coated with a layer of dry red dust from the long road trip from the village. They were late—he was late—and the village of several hundred people had placed its economic future in his hands. He could not let them down—he would not let them down.
He needed a shower and to change, and most of all he needed to persuade Kate O’Neill to take him seriously before the media circus arrived and the pressure really started.
Of course this was only about the work.
The lump in his throat and the thumping of blood in his head had nothing at all to do with the fact that in three years his Katie had grown into the beautiful woman he had always known she would become. Only this time he needed her to be the best friend he had in this world.
That meant she would have to put aside the fact that after three years at university together, where they had shared their lives, dreams and hopes and every waking moment, he had dumped her only days after they’d graduated.
Apart from that …
Time to get to work. He could only pray that she was ready to do the same.
Simon sighed out loud and sniffed.
He was doomed.
Kate stood on the terrace looking out towards the ocean, with her fingers clasped hard around the smooth wooden rail, willing herself to be steady, resolute and professional and failing on every count.
She had never expected the sight of Simon Reynolds to destroy her composure like this, but it had—in every way possible. And it had nothing to do with the past few exhausting days and everything to do with how much she still felt about this man.
Which made her so angry she clenched her nails even harder into the wooden railing.
He had been the one who had walked out on her.
He had been the one who had been full of promises and not kept one of them.
He had been … He had been the love of her life, who had left her behind just like all the other men in her life who had abandoned her when the going got tough. If it had not been for her stepfather, Tom, she would have given up on the whole sorry lot of them a long time ago. Now Simon was here, in this stunning country, and she was going to have to deal with him.
A peal of happy children’s laughter rang out from the beach below, interrupting her thoughts, and Kate blinked hard in the dazzling bright morning light to focus on the stunning view before her.
The hotel terrace faced the ocean, and the beautifully kept lawns stretched out to a wide strip of glowing white sand, where her view of the lapping waves was broken only by the thin trunks of tall palm trees.
It was like a poster of a dream beach from the cover of a holiday brochure, complete with a long wooden canoe on the shore and umbrellas made from palm fronds to protect the professional sunbathers from the heat of the African sun in January.
Palm trees. She was looking at real African coconut palm trees. The sky was a cloudless bright blue, and the
