LITMIR.BIZ

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      Icy fingers of dread trailed themselves up Reba’s spine. So far as she knew there was only one reason anyone would want to contact her urgently. Sure enough, the message was from her sister, asking her to ring home at once.

      ‘Thank you,’ she managed to say, before hurrying to the lift.

      Once in her room, she threw down her bag and picked up the telephone. The wonders of modern science meant it wasn’t long before she heard the sound of ringing, and then came her sister’s voice.

      ‘Maggie? It’s Reba,’ she began, and was interrupted at once.

      ‘Where have you been?’ her sister demanded in a distraught voice. ‘It’s been hours and hours!’

      Reba closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. Revealing her exact whereabouts was out of the question, even to her sister. ‘I’ve only just got your message. Calm down, Maggie, and tell me what’s wrong,’ she ordered, trying to remain calm herself.

      Down the line came the sound of several sniffs. ‘Mum took a turn for the worse. Oh, Reba, they had to take her in again! The doctor said I should contact you, just in case…’

      Just in case! Reba’s fingers tightened on the telephone wire. ‘All right, I understand. Is she stable?’

      ‘Yes, but she was unconscious for such a long time. I was frightened, Reba,’ Maggie exclaimed, on the verge of tears again.

      ‘Of course you were, darling. Now, listen to me, Maggie, I’ll be coming home just as soon as I can. First I have some…arrangements to make. I’ll let you know what flight I’ll be on just as soon as I know myself. If Mum’s stable, then nothing is going to happen just yet, so do try to stop worrying. I’ll be there, I promise.’

      She did her very best to reassure her younger sister before she rang off, but the truth of the matter was that she desperately needed reassurance herself. Suddenly, from walking on a cloud, she plunged into the pit of despair. Every time her mother suffered another setback, the chances of the operation being in time lessened. Which meant it had to take place now. They couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

      She dropped her head in her hands. Oh, God, why now? Why now, when she had just met the most wonderful man, who loved her as much as she loved him, and wanted to marry her? Her heart cried out to marry him, and it was that very same heart which broke as she was forced to admit she couldn’t afford to. Hunter might be a wonderful man, but he couldn’t possibly help her mother when her need was so great! They needed money, and the only way she knew of to get it was to accept Eliot’s proposal. Eliot, whom she hadn’t thought of for weeks, was suddenly the answer to her prayers. She knew he was not the kind of man to refuse to help her. He would probably offer to pay without asking for any security, because he loved her. Yet it was precisely because he loved her that she couldn’t ask without making a commitment. She could only accept his help by accepting his proposal.

      The knowledge brought with it a shattering pain. Why must she be tortured this way? Torn between love and duty. It wasn’t fair! But if she refused to help her mother now, she knew she would never forgive herself, because to do so would be passing the death sentence on her. She groaned in despair. Yet to marry Eliot when she was in love with another man…How could she do that? How could she possibly give Hunter up?

      Back and forth the arguments battled inside her mind all night, wearing away at her spirit. By dawn she knew it was hopeless. She knew she would have to destroy something wonderful whatever course she chose. By the time the sun was above the horizon, she accepted she had no choice. She never had had. She loved both her mother and Hunter, but one had to be sacrificed. There wasn’t even a contest. Her mother would die, but Hunter wouldn’t. He would live on and get over her, if somehow she could make him hate her enough. There had to be a way, something bad enough to turn love to hate, because she couldn’t tell him that, although she loved him, would love him till she died, she was going to marry someone else.

      If only he had been rich, like Eliot! But it was no use thinking like that. If-onlys were for fools. Hunter wasn’t rich, he was simply who he was, and she couldn’t tear his pride to shreds too by telling him he simply wasn’t rich enough to help her. She had to leave him something. Pride would get him through, as it must get her through the ordeal ahead.

      The painful decision made, she felt curiously numb as she showered and changed into the cream linen trouser-suit she used for travelling. Then it was only a matter of waiting until a reasonable hour before picking up the telephone again. First she made arrangements for a flight to be booked for her, then asked to be put through to Maurice’s room.

      ‘Hello?’ the director barked, patently annoyed at being roused so early.

      ‘This is Reba, Maurice. Sorry, but I’ve had an urgent call from home. There’s been an emergency. I’m going to have to leave.’ She waited for the explosion she expected, and wasn’t disappointed.

      ‘You’re what? No way, toots. Absolutely no way are you walking out on this!’

      His anger didn’t alarm her; she felt too numb. Her eyes travelled to the window, and it didn’t surprise her to see that the sun had disappeared. The sea looked angry and the wind had risen dramatically. Her lips twisted. Somehow it suited her mood. ‘I’ll be leaving on the first available flight,’ she told him bluntly.

      ‘You do that, toots, and I’m gonna make sure you never work in this burg again!’ Maurice threatened, slamming the phone down.

      So much for that, she thought wearily as she replaced the receiver. She doubted if he had the clout to carry out his threat, but then she didn’t think she would be working for long anyway. Sighing, she crossed to the dressing-table. She had done the easy bit, now came the hard part. To do it she would need to look her best. She couldn’t let one iota of her inner misery show when she went to see Hunter. Fortunately she had been taught to use make-up to its full advantage, and the result was near-perfect. Now, if she could only manage a smile, she might just be able to pull off the acting job of her life!

      Even when the taxi dropped her off at the marina, she still didn’t know what she would say. Her mind seemed to have gone blank. Not so her heart. It thrummed out a sickening beat as she traversed the jetties towards her goal. Hunter was there, working on deck, and he looked up when he heard footsteps, surprise then pleasure crossing his face by turns.

      Jumping ashore, he waited for her to join him. ‘Hey, this is a nice surprise. I thought you’d be miles away by now.’

      Training came to her aid, giving her the ability to smile through her pain. ‘I should have been, but there was a technical hitch. I have the morning off.’ The first lie, but who the hell was counting?

      Hunter reached out a long arm, hooking her waist and pulling her into his arms. ‘Their loss is my gain, tiger-eyes,’ he growled and brought his head down to hers.

      Reba kissed him with a desperate passion, knowing this was probably the very last time she would ever share something so wonderful. Tears scalded the backs of her eyes, but she beat them back. Then, unable to take any more, she dragged her mouth free, burying her head against his shoulder while her mind sought desperately for a way out.

      ‘What are you doing to the boat?’ she asked, noticing piles of gear stacked on deck, and using it as an excuse to ease away from him.

      Hunter still managed to keep an arm around her, but he turned towards the yacht. ‘Jim Mitchell, the owner, has finally decided he’ll pick her up in Trinidad, so I’m getting her ready to sail down.’

      Reba caught her breath, as sudden inspiration came to her. It wouldn’t be nice, but it was what she was looking for. She had known the agency had arranged the use of a millionaire’s yacht for the shoot, and that Hunter certainly wasn’t him. But what if she pretended she had thought that? What if she pretended she was that worst kind of woman—a gold-digger? Surely then he would turn against her, and, in the end, forget her?

      She didn’t have to pretend shock; just the thought of what she was about to do had driven all colour from her face.

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