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to steel herself not to move away. But perhaps another drink wasn’t a bad idea, she thought breathlessly. It might help to calm the nerves jumping in her stomach.

      ‘Why not?’ she said, promising herself she’d have one more drink and then say goodnight. She wanted to be up bright and early in the morning. After all the effort Suzanne had made, the least she could do was not to miss the plane.

      Raul summoned the waiter and ordered himself a Scotch over ice and Ally another vodka and tonic. Even the drink she’d chosen was a cliché, she thought impatiently. Why couldn’t she have ordered a champagne cocktail or a spritzer?

      She noticed that Raul had put one arm along the back of the sofa now and she wished she had the nerve to sit back in her seat and see what he would do. As it was, she was perched on the edge of the cushions, her knees pressed tightly together.

      The waiter returned with their drinks and Ally picked up her glass and took a reassuring gulp. But she had the feeling it would take more than another drink to make her relax. She was far too tense for relaxation; far too aware of him and the temptation he evinced.

      ‘So what made you decide to go to the Bahamas?’ he asked, lifting his own drink to his lips.

      ‘Oh—you know.’ Ally shrugged, collecting her thoughts. ‘Sam thought it would be a good idea for me to have a holiday.’

      ‘Your daughter?’

      ‘Mmm.’ She smiled. ‘Like I said, she feels she has to look after me.’

      ‘I’m not surprised.’ Raul regarded her gently. ‘You have that effect on people.’

      ‘Oh, I don’t think—’

      ‘I mean it.’ To her consternation, she felt the brush of his fingers against her nape. ‘You’re very appealing, Ally. It’s quite a novelty to meet a woman who is so lacking in self-conceit.’

      Ally blushed. She couldn’t help it. ‘You’re just trying to embarrass me now,’ she accused him uncomfortably. She picked up her glass again. ‘When I’ve had this, I’m going to have to say goodnight.’

      Raul glanced at the narrow gold watch on his wrist. ‘It’s early yet,’ he protested.

      ‘For you, maybe.’ Ally caught herself before she admitted that she was usually in bed by half-past ten these days. She glanced behind her. ‘I just want to speak to the waiter first.’

      ‘The waiter?’

      ‘In the restaurant,’ Ally explained. Then, with a certain amount of reticence, ‘I want to ask him to add the cost of my dinner to my room bill, that’s all.’ She looked round again. ‘I wonder where he is?’

      ‘It’s dealt with.’ Raul took a deep breath as Ally turned confused eyes in his direction. ‘I signed the bill before we left the restaurant.’

      ‘Oh, but—’

      ‘I hope you’re not going to embarrass me by refusing to let me buy your dinner,’ he said mildly. ‘It was my pleasure. As I said before, this has been a very pleasant evening.’

      ‘For me, too,’ said Ally impulsively, and he tugged on a strand of her hair.

      ‘Then perhaps you’ll allow me to escort you to your room?’ he suggested, causing her stomach to plunge uncertainly. He grinned. ‘I’m sure Sam would approve.’

      Ally was equally sure that Sam wouldn’t, but she could hardly say that. Not when he had been kind enough to pay for her drinks and her dinner, and for the wine she had consumed so freely throughout the meal. So, ‘All right,’ she agreed, a little breathily, and forced herself not to flinch when he put a hand in the small of her back as he guided her out of the lounge a few minutes later.

       CHAPTER THREE

      IT HAD been a dull overcast morning when they’d left London but Nassau was basking in the heat of the afternoon sun. Ally estimated that the temperature outside the airport buildings was hovering somewhere close to ninety. Heat shimmered above the tarmac of the runways and the breeze that stirred the flags hanging limply from their poles was barely enough to temper the humidity that drifted into the Arrivals Hall.

      She and her fellow passengers were waiting for their luggage to be unloaded onto the carousels, and, exchanging a rueful smile with a young mother who was trying to appease two fretful children, Ally tried to rekindle the optimism she’d felt when she’d left Newcastle the afternoon before. She was almost there, she thought determinedly. According to Suzanne, it was just a short flight from New Providence to San Cristobál, where her friend and her husband ran a small hotel. Suzanne had said someone would meet her here at the airport and escort her to the small plane that would take her on the final leg of her journey, and, apart from her own foolish feelings, everything was going according to plan.

      Only it wasn’t, Ally reflected unhappily. Nothing had gone according to plan since she’d allowed Raul—if that really was his name—to pick her up in the hotel bar the night before. Ever since then everything had gone anything but according to plan and she was having a hard time fighting the suspicion that perhaps this holiday wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

      Which was defeatist, perhaps, but it was how she felt. Last night she’d done something totally reckless, totally irresponsible, and all she’d really wanted to do this morning was get on the train again and go home. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could do what she’d done and not get a conscience about it. She’d acted completely out of character, and she dreaded to think how her daughter would feel if she ever found out.

      Of course, there was no reason why Sam should find out, she assured herself. No matter how much she’d wanted to do it, she hadn’t cashed in her air ticket or cancelled her trip, and surely by the time she got back she’d have forgotten all about last night. She doubted if Suzanne would blame her, if she confided in her, but then Suzanne was a woman of the world whereas, for all her modern outlook, Sam could be incredibly old-fashioned when it came to the people she loved.

      ‘Mrs Sloan?’

      The voice came from behind her and when she turned Ally found a man in a short-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts gazing cheerfully at her. He was very tanned, with a fan of creases at each side of his blue eyes that seemed to indicate he spent a lot of time outdoors. Grey-blond hair escaped untidily from the sides of the baseball cap he was wearing back to front and his smile revealed white, but slightly crooked, teeth.

      ‘Yes, I’m Mrs Sloan,’ she said, and he nodded.

      ‘I thought you must be.’ His grin deepened. ‘Suze said to look out for a tall good-looking woman and she wasn’t wrong.’ He pulled off his cap and held out his hand. ‘Mike Mclean at your service, Mrs Sloan. I’m here to fly you over to Saint Chris.’

      ‘Saint Chris?’

      Ally arched an enquiring brow and he gestured towards the carousel. ‘San Cristobál,’ he explained. ‘D’you want to point out your bags and we’ll be on our way?’

      ‘My bags?’ Ally turned back to the conveyor belt that was now moving. ‘Oh—yes.’ She shook her head a little dazedly. ‘I thought—that is, I assumed that whoever Suzanne had sent would be waiting outside.’

      ‘In this heat?’ Mclean grimaced. ‘No. So long as we go through Customs together no one objects.’ He saw her move forward. ‘That’s one of them?’

      In a short while, Mclean had the sports holdall she had borrowed from Ryan and her own suitcase on a luggage trolley and was propelling them towards the exit. Although he wasn’t a particularly tall man, he was obviously strong and capable, and Ally felt no qualms about putting herself into his hands. Indeed, it was a relief to be free of the responsibility for getting to her destination, and she fanned herself a little weakly when they emerged into the sunlight.

      ‘It’s this way,’ he said, directing

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