LITMIR.BIZ

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his jacket as he leant forward to add weight to his words. ‘I’ve never asked anyone else to marry me. I love you, sweetheart. We could be happy together. Think about it, please.’

      She could see it was no joke. He really meant it, and the very least she could do was give it serious consideration, even if she knew she would still say no. He deserved that. ‘All right, Eliot, I will think about it,’ she promised.

      ‘And you’ll give me your answer when you get back from your next shoot?’ he urged, not willing to let it rest having got her to this point.

      She was flying off to the Caribbean tomorrow on a modelling assignment which was due to last several weeks. It would certainly give her time to think of an answer for him. ‘OK. When I get back. But, Eliot, it could be no and not yes,’ she warned, as she removed his jacket and held it out to him.

      He took it, leaning closer. ‘I’m a born optimist,’ he quipped, and kissed her. ‘Goodnight, sweetheart. See you in a couple of weeks.’

      He left then, and Reba watched him until he disappeared into the lift with a final wave, before entering her apartment. Locking the door, she felt…unsettled. Edgy and irritable, she made her away through to her bedroom without bothering to switch on the lights until she got there. Throwing her purse down on to the cluttered dressing-table, she removed the combs from her hair, allowing its wildness to spring free. Tossing her head, she eased the tension in her neck, and found herself studying her reflection in the glass.

      It showed her what it had always shown her, but now there was added glamour. She had always been a tall, curvaceous brunette, but the right training and makeup had revealed a new Reba, whose beauty was both striking and exotic. It was her eyes which had taken her out of the common mould: large golden cat’s-eyes, rimmed with long dark lashes, which gave her a felinely hungry look and added a sensual quality to her mouth.

      It was the face and figure of a top model, but she hadn’t considered it as a career option until, on leaving university, disaster had struck her family. Her mother had developed a crippling disease which had only one possibility of a cure—a pioneering operation in the United States. The trouble was that it was astronomically expensive, and the family, minus a father who had died when Reba was still quite young, couldn’t afford it.

      Not, that was, until a friend, who was in the business, had suggested that she could make a fortune as a model. Reba hadn’t even bothered to have a second thought and, with the help of her friend, had entered the world of modelling. In the beginning it had been an uphill struggle, with every penny she could spare being put in the bank to set against their expenses. Through sheer hard work she had fought her way towards the top, never refusing anything which would bring in money. But it had been so slow, and it was only now, two years later, that she was beginning to travel the world, commanding huge sums for a single session.

      It had been time they could ill afford, and it was going to be tight getting the money for the operation before it was too late. Unless…Suddenly she knew why she was feeling so edgy. Eliot’s proposal. It occurred to her that if she accepted him, then it would certainly help her family out. But that was no basis for marriage! It wouldn’t be fair. To either of them.

      Eliot said he loved her, but she had never pretended she loved him. She liked him very much, and felt they were good friends. His kisses were pleasant and his caresses tender, but there was no spark for her. She was twenty three years old, and she had always thought she would never marry anyone unless there was that certain something between them. It wasn’t ridiculous to want the heights, only natural. She was certain that Mr Right was out there somewhere, waiting around a corner she had yet to turn.

      But, while she was waiting for Mr Right, her mother was slowly but surely dying—and the price of the operation was going up, her conscience now reminded her. And here was Eliot, wanting to marry her. She knew they could very possibly have a happy, if unexciting, marriage. Surely she should consider it—for her mother’s sake?

      Sinking down on to the stool, she began cleaning off her make-up, knowing that there was no question of it. She must take it seriously though, and, however mercenary it sounded, she couldn’t afford to rule out any option. Yet it wasn’t going to be an easy decision to make, and she was glad she had some time in which to do it.

      

      A week later, Reba gathered together her survival kit ready for the day’s filming ahead of them, knowing she was no nearer a solution. In fact, to be honest, she knew she had been putting the moment of decision off. She had told herself she was too busy, too tired, too…Any one of a number of excuses. Now, today, glancing at her watch, she told herself it was too late to think about it.

      Leaving her room in the luxury hotel which the agency had booked for them, she hurried down to the lobby where the rest of the crew would be waiting. Contrary to some people’s expectations, she didn’t go around dressed like a fashion-plate all the time. Today she was in cut-off shorts and a baggy Hawaiian shirt. Costume and make-up would be discussed when they reached the location.

      So far she, and the other three models, had only been shot in evening-wear, but now they were moving into beach and leisurewear, and the director had decided they needed to be on a yacht for the purpose. Reba didn’t mind. She loved the water and boats, although there hadn’t been much time for sailing recently. Plus it would be cooler at sea. She wasn’t fully acclimatised to the Caribbean heat, and sometimes found it enervating.

      ‘Sorry I’m late,’ she apologised, finding she was the last to arrive.

      One of her fellow models, a Nordic blonde called Magda, who always appeared immaculately turned out, looked down her nose. ‘If you get a reputation for being late, nobody is going to employ you!’

      ‘You wish!’ grinned Linda, the make-up girl, and as Magda turned away with a sniff she rolled her eyes at Reba. ‘Take no notice of her, she’s just jealous. You’ve got further quicker than she did. Plus you’re going places, and she isn’t. Don’t let it upset you. You’re going to get a lot more of the same.’

      Reba smiled back gratefully. She wasn’t the bitchy sort you sometimes needed to be to get on in this profession. She always tried to make friends with everyone, although Magda made that hard. ‘I’ll try not to, but this weather doesn’t help me keep my cool. It’s so hot already.’

      ‘I heard one of the waiters saying it probably means there’s going to be a storm. I’m just praying it won’t come while we’re at sea,’ Linda groaned, then came to attention as Maurice, the director, clapped his hands loudly.

      ‘OK, everyone, transport’s here. Let’s get going.’

      They were ushered out to a minibus which took them from the hotel’s exclusive setting to the island’s main town, where the marina was situated. Reba slung her bag over her shoulder and breathed in the scent of the sea. Shading her eyes with her hands, she gazed along the lines of glittering craft of all shapes and sizes, and knew a longing to be skimming along the crystal waters, all her cares forgotten.

      Maurice herded them along the main pier, then on to one of the branches. It soon became obvious that they were heading for a large white yacht where a man could be seen busily coiling rope. He glanced up as he heard them approaching, stretching to his full height, and Reba found her steps slowing, so that she was at the back of the group. She heard Maurice speaking, but it seemed to come from a great distance as she stared at the stranger.

      He was tall, fair and tanned, but that wasn’t what brought the sensitive hairs all over her body to attention. He was pure male power, barely leashed. His blond hair was untamed, his blue eyes wild and compelling. He took the word handsome to the edge—and beyond. His clothes were clean but well-worn, the white vest clinging to every muscled inch of his chest, down to where the low-slung denims took over, their faded cloth straining at long powerful legs and the tears at the knees only adding to his incredible presence. He exuded a potency she had never encountered before. It called to her, and she responded on a primitive level.

      As if becoming aware of her gaze, his head turned, searching, and her golden eyes met and locked on to a pair of deep blue ones. All

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