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BOOK 7
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Being Yours BOOK 8
For one gut-wrenching moment Matt thought that the woman walking toward him was Adriana. Same dark curls and olive skin, same compact figure, same ridiculously high heels tapping across the airport concourse. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, she was standing beside him while she anxiously scanned the crowd gathered around the arrivals gate.He scowled. He really must get a grip. Close up she was nothing like Adriana. The curls were softer and shot with chestnut streaks, and her skin was honey-colored with a tiny smattering of freckles across her nose. What was the matter with him that he thought every small, dark-haired woman was his wife? Why, this one wasn’t even dressed like Adriana. Instead of high gloss and sparkle, she was wearing varying shades of beige. The slouchy trousers and T-shirt, as well as the thin sweater tied around her shoulders, were obviously aimed at travel comfort rather than elegance. Only the shoes, copper- colored sandals with a four-inch heel,
Being Yours BOOK 8
Crash pad just about described it, Alex decided fifteen minutes later as she followed him up two steep flights of stairs to a cramped attic accommodation at the top of a square, white-painted building on the outskirts of the town.The offices of Miguel & Anderson occupied the first two floors. Although not at all grand, they were cool and professional. Marble tiling in shades of cream was complemented by dark wood and modern desks. The four computers, each with a webcam, were recent models, all of which Alex found encouraging.A pretty, dark-haired woman in her midtwenties had greeted them when they arrived. She had tried not to stare at Alex as she relayed a series of messages to Matt in Spanish. He listened intently and then, with his cell phone already clamped to one ear, had made hasty introductions in English.“Conchita, this is Alexandra Moyer, our new designer. Alex, this is Conchita Eberardo, Miguel & Anderson’s office manager. Without her, we couldn’t function! She’s related
Being Yours BOOK 8
Much later, replete after a meal of fish served with a green salsa, tiny baked potatoes, and a tomato salad, Alex sipped the last of her wine and listened to Rufino and Cristina reminiscing about a touring holiday they had once had in England.“We ended up in the Yorkshire Dales,” remembered Rufino.Cristina nodded. “Yes, and the scenery was beautiful—all soft curves lit by pale sunshine and shadow—and so many sheep! Even the food was good most of the time,” she added in her attractively accented English. “It wasn’t at all what we expected. We had heard so many bad things about England and its weather.”“You were just lucky.” Matt held his empty wineglass out for a refill. “Usually it’s gray and wet, or cold and wet, or windy and wet, or just wet. Why do you think I've settled over here? What’s to choose between wet and continuous sunshine?”“That is such an exaggeration!” Alex protested as Rufino topped up her gla^s. “We have loads of good weather. Think of all the poets who’ve writt
Being Yours BOOK 8
Awaking early the following morning, Alex lay in bed and listened to the sounds of the house. She heard the murmur of Cristina’s voice and then little fluting sounds like birdsong. It took her a moment to realize that it was the twins, who had woken and were calling. Soon the sounds grew louder, and then she heard the patter of small feet on the wooden floor. Slowly her door was pushed open, and two sets of sparkling black eyes peeped in at her.“ Hola she said, guessing that they probably understood only Spanish.Immediately they disappeared to the sound of much giggling. Smiling, she swung her feet onto the floor and welcomed the new day with a luxurious stretch. She felt more rested and relaxed than she had in months, and she was looking forward to settling into her new home and starting work.Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed in casual clothes, she gave her hair a final brush before descending into the kitchen. There, ensconced in matching high chairs and covered from chi
Being Yours BOOK 8
Alex arrived at Miguel & Anderson’s office at eight thirty the following morning after an evening spent settling into her new home. She had refused Cristina’s offer of an evening meal but had agreed to meet up again later in the week.After unpacking her clothes and putting the food she had bought at the market into the kitchen cupboards, she had made herself a coffee and taken it onto her balcony to enjoy the last of the evening sun. When it turned into a spectacular sunset that bathed the roofs below her in pink and gold, she congratulated herself anew on her good fortune and decided that she would make the most of this unexpected chance to stay in such a beautiful, sunny place. She would use it to provide the energy she needed to restart her social life. She would forget people like Rory and his friends, who had all sucked her dry. Any liaisons she enjoyed in Tenerife would be casual and fun and conducted solely on her terms, while she concentrated on making a success of the Alcasz
Being Yours BOOK 8
Once she was alone, Alex began to walk slowly around the courtyard, filling it with imaginary items as she did so. In her mind’s eye it became a place of light and shade. She soothed the lurid decor into warm pastels, painted the slim columns with fresh white paint, and introduced wooden tables and chairs and large urns of exotic flowers, making these its only decoration apart from the foaming fountain, which she would return to its former glory.Then, after allowing herself another moment to savor it, she moved purposefully back toward the entrance and began a systematic tour of the whole building, making copious notes on a set of plans that Matt had left with her. It took her a long time, and by the time she reached the topmost tower, she was thirsty and her feet were aching. She sat on the low stone windowsill, kicked off her shoes, and wriggled her toes. She really must stop this stupid predilection for ridiculously high heels. They might help her forget her lack of inches, they m
Being Yours BOOK 8
Alex woke in the early hours of the morning, uncomfortably aware of the throbbing in her ankle. For the briefest moment she wondered where she was, but then everything came flooding back to her as she reached out and switched on the bedside light. Seeing pills and water on the table, she realized that Matt must have come into the room while she was asleep, and she was filled with embarrassment at the thought of such an intimate action. Somehow her plan to work hard and play hard while keeping all emotional involvement at bay seemed to be falling about her ears before it had even begun.With a sigh she swallowed the painkillers and, recognizing that she was unlikely to fall asleep again very quickly, used her one good arm to plump up the pillows behind her head. She looked around the room. All the furniture was carved pine, and the sprigged and ruffled curtains and bedcovers reflected the cream and blue bathroom, as did the square rug on the pale, tiled floor. It was a pretty room with
Being Yours BOOK 8
Christina was in a bad mood when she returned Alex to her apartment an hour later.“I don’t understand why you must stay here when you could stay with me and I could look after you,” she complained.Alex smiled at her ill humor. “The doctor said I was fine, that I just need to rest my ankle for a week or so. He even said that I have to thank Matt for providing exactly the right treatment; so the best way that I can do that is to stay here and get on with my work. And it won’t be a problem. The apartment is all on one level, so I won’t have to strain my ankle; plus, I have enough food in the cupboards to last at least a week.”Although Cristina disapproved of the plan, she could see from the expression on Alex’s face that she had made up her mind, so she changed tack. “In that case I will visit you every day so that I can check on your recovery and make sure that you are eating properly.”“You’re a dear!” Alex told her, leaning heavily on her arm as she carefully inched her way down th
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Being Yours BOOK 9
Lohano Tiki drove his bright yellow Ferrari up the long gravel incline and parked in front of the huge pillared portico that was the entrance to the Black Orchid Palace.He climbed out of the car, and quickly ducked down to check his hair in the wing-mirror.Good. Nicely wind-ruffled and carefree.A handsome, square-jawed face looked back at him, tanned a deeper colour by the desert sun.By the Nevadan desert sun, to be exact.His shirt was dazzling white and casually opened at the throat to reveal a strong dark column of neck and the first few wisps of dark chest hair.His jacket was white linen, faultlessly tailored, his slacks a dark green. His loafers came from Rome. His only piece of jewellery was a modest, leather-strapped watch from Switzerland.He was dressing to impress Koki’Hana as much as his rebellious and strong-willed granddaughter.He sprang lithely up the four rounded steps, that were spread out like a fan and led to the huge, impressive, carved oak doors of the palace
Being Yours BOOK 9
George Dixon watched the large crocodile of people emerge from the intermediary house by the east wall.As the owner of fifteen per cent of the Orchid House, he’d been asked to attend the full day’s festivities, of course, but he’d only just decided to put in an appearance.It was three-fifteen p.m.The extra waiters and waitresses hired for the lunch had been circulating in the grounds all afternoon, laden with trays of champagne, fruit juice and little nibbles. He hijacked a waiter and grabbed a glass of cold Moet et Chandon and a few smoked salmon pastries that melted in the mouth.He was lounging against the fountain that was the centre-piece of the outer grounds. Round, made of stone, and full of fish and water-lilies, it shot a fountain of water nearly thirty feet into the air.It was cooler there.George didn’t much like the heat. He was a small but very fat man, with a round belly and short, stocky legs. He could only imagine what the heat must be like inside the hot-houses.G
Being Yours BOOK 9
King Koki’Hana reached the end of the welcoming line, and finally shook hands with the last person to be presented - a tall, thin Portuguese man, whom Electra had introduced as their head groundsman. It was his job to keep the gardens outside the glasshouses looking good.Koki’Hana quite liked meeting the people who made businesses tick. Oahu, like all the islands, was a large ethnic mix of people - Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Filipino, Polynesians, Portuguese and American. Here at the Orchid House, he was pleased to see that Electra Stapleton’s only criterion for picking her staff was their having the right qualifications for the job. He operated a similar policy where his own business affairs were concerned.‘Well, Alii Koki’Hana, I’m sure you can see now why the Orchid House is such a success,’ Electra said quietly. ‘My staff are simply the best in the world.’ She said with it quiet pride but total sincerity.King Koki’Hana nodded. ‘So I see. And you are rapidly expanding, I underst
Being Yours BOOK 9
Bevis expertly aligned the small light aircraft with the portable runway lights Electra had lit ten minutes ago, and lightly touched down. He taxied neatly to the end of the runway, turned, and then parked the plane near a stand of hua trees, where it was partially hidden.He went through his checklist, making sure all the systems were shut down, then locked the cockpit, grabbed his overnight bag, and jumped lithely to the ground.At thirty-eight, he looked a good ten years younger, and still retained the well-built but fat-free body that would be the envy of many men his age. His short hair was still as dark as a raven’s wing, with not a hint of grey at the temples.He gathered up the landing lights, turning them off as he went, and stowed them away in their small wooden shed, hidden in the small copse of trees, padlocking the door after him.During the short walk to Electra’s luxurious bungalow, ‘Makai Hale’, he ran a tired hand through his hair. It was good to have a break from the
Being Yours BOOK 9
Electra stroked the damp copper hair off his forehead and looked around desperately. There was only the diminishing storm, darkness and fear. She couldn’t move him - she wasn’t strong enough to get him into her car. Besides., she didn’t know if she should move him, and wished she knew more basic First Aid.She felt as if she’d been cradling the stranger in her arms forever, but it had actually been less than five minutes since the lightning strike.The rain had been gradually dwindling, and now had stopped altogether, but she could still hear the distant rumble of thunder, away to the east, as the storm headed out to sea.Suddenly another sound began to impinge on her mind, and she looked up hopefully as a small set of lights dipped and disappeared in the distance.A car! At last!Coming from the same direction as she had been. Somewhat belatedly, she realized her own car was still blocking the road, and she carefully lowered the stranger’s head to the ground and got to her feet.Her
Being Yours BOOK 9
Hawaii, or the Big Island as it was known to the locals, played host to fewer tourists than its sister island Oahu, but boasted similar moutainous lush greenery, great surfing and multi-cultural dining, all with the added bonus of spectacular black beaches, courtesy of the volcanoes.A mountainous land of plantations, myth and Polynesian mystique, it slumbered like a giant emerald in the vast blueness of the Pacific ocean.However, Hilo, its major city, was as big, busy and cosmopolitan as any city in the developed world.The Big Island, like all those in the chain, also had its fair share of hotels and tourist resorts, but, unlike Oahu, it still relied heavily on the more traditional sources of money, such as fruit plantations and coffee, to fill its coffers.Near the pretty village of Kailua, set well back in the coolness of the hills, away from the hustle and bustle of hotels and shops, lay the impressive and sprawling edifice of the Black Orchid Palace.No higher than two storeys,
Being Yours BOOK 9
Electra Stapleton turned the last page of the contract she was reading, and initialled it in the right-hand corner. She’d made a few important changes, and she made a mental note to herself to get one of her lawyers to draw up a revised draft.Not that Nationwide Flowers Inc. would complain. She’d given them all they wanted, but had cleverly slipped in a few little goodies that would be beneficial to the Orchid House too.For instance, ensuring that their chain of florists used one of the Orchid House’s flowered wrapping sheets whenever they sold one of their orchids. The free publicity that would generate would save her hundreds of thousands of dollars. And cost Nationwide Flowers not a penny.She was a bit worried about the shipment date, though; it was rather tight. She reached for her computer keyboard and punched up the details on the company’s regular transporters. Before she’d taken over, the Orchid House had had only one - a privately owned aeroplane company that had shipped a
Being Yours BOOK 9
Haldane Fox glanced up as the oddly melodious 4 ping 5 echoed around the cabin.‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We are now beginning our descent to Honolulu Airport. Please observe the “No Smoking” signs, and “Fasten Seat-belts” signs. Your cabin crew will be around to help anyone having difficulty with their belts. I trust you enjoyed your flight with us, and wish you all a pleasant stay on Oahu. Aloha'Haldane sighed wearily and reached for his seatbelt. It had been a long flight, from London to New York for a short stopover, then on to LA for yet another stopover before the long haul across the mighty Pacific Ocean to the fabled Hawaiian Islands.He yawned widely, trying to shrug off the fast-approaching affects of the dreaded jet-lag.A stewardess, the same one who’d been serving him throughout the flight across the pacific, lingered by the side of his seat.‘Everything alright, sir?’The soft voice made him spin his head and look up. The stewardess’s smile caught in her th
Being Yours BOOK 8
By the time they arrived at the hotel, the security gate had been forced open, and a fire engine and two police cars were in the parking area. Apart from the fact that the firemen had broken down the main door, to all other outward appearances the Alcaszar appeared to be untouched. It wasn’t enough to stop Matt from leaping from the car and running across to the main doors where a group of firemen was standing, though.By the time Alex joined them, however, he appeared to be calm. “It’s only damaged the courtyard,” he told her. “Apparently it started among the wood that was stacked there, probably caused by a careless cigarette butt. They say it’s probably been smoldering for hours.”From the tone of his voice Alex knew immediately that he didn’t believe it was accidental but that he wasn’t prepared to talk to the police about his suspicions. She glanced up at him. His eyes had darkened to the steely gray that she now knew from experience was a sign that he was very angry. She took hi
