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he said, and, glancing up, Cleo found him grinning. ‘’Cept maybe Dom himself, hmm? How about that?’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      The words were out before she could prevent them, and Jacob arched a sardonic brow.

      ‘Well, you like your brother, don’t you, Cleo? It seemed to me when you arrived that you’d come to depend on him, quite a lot.’

      Cleo pressed her lips together. ‘He’s not my brother.’

      ‘As good as.’ Jacob was dismissive. ‘Why’s it matter, anyway? You’re both my grandchildren. And when I’m gone and Serena’s married, you’ll be the only Montoyas left.’

      Cleo’s jaw dropped. ‘I didn’t know Serena was getting married.’

      ‘Nor does she—yet.’ The old man grimaced. ‘But she and Michael Cordy—that’s Lily’s cousin—have been friends since they were children. And since his first wife died, he’s been looking for a replacement.’

      Cleo stared at him incredulously. ‘But does she love him?’

      ‘Well…’ Jacob considered. ‘She’s turned him down a time or two in the past. Under some mistaken impression that I needed her here. But that was before he married someone else.’ He chuckled. ‘It’s amazing how much more attractive something becomes if it’s forbidden fruit.’ He paused. ‘I guess you know that.’

      ‘Me?’ Cleo heard the squeak in her voice and struggled to control it. ‘How should I know?’

      ‘Why—your father and your mother. What did you think I meant?’ asked Jacob innocently. ‘If their relationship wasn’t forbidden fruit, then I don’t know what it was.’

      ‘Oh…’ Cleo swallowed a little convulsively, not totally convinced that he was being completely honest.

      But he couldn’t know about her and Dominic. How could he? Not unless Dominic had spilled the beans, and something told her that that was the last thing he would do.

      ‘Anyway—how about it?’ Jacob asked. ‘This trip I’ve got planned for us? You’d like to see the town of San Clemente, wouldn’t you? This island’s your home, Cleo. I want you to love it just as much as I do.’

      The idea of loving anything—or anybody—was not something Cleo wanted to think about at that moment. Whatever Jacob said, how could she even think of staying here? Apart from all the obvious problems, there was still Dominic. She was not going to become his mistress as her mother had become Robert’s.

      Now, however, she chose her words with care.

      ‘I—I would like to see San Clemente, of course,’ she said. ‘But perhaps we could just drive through the town instead of stopping for lunch.’ She paused. ‘Serena told me you tired yourself out yesterday. I don’t think it’s wise to risk your health by doing too much today.’

      ‘Rubbish!’ Jacob was impatient. ‘When you don’t know how much time you’ve got left, you don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today. Believe me, my dear, I have no intention of killing myself. As I say, we’ll have lunch on the yacht. You’ll like that. Then I’ll have a rest in one of the cabins, while Dominic gives you a tour of the town.’

      Cleo stifled a moan. ‘Dominic may not want—may not have time,’ she amended quickly, ‘to take me sightseeing.’

      ‘He’ll make time,’ declared her grandfather confidently. ‘He’s his own boss. No one tells him what to do.’

      Except you, thought Cleo unhappily, but Jacob only winked at her.

      ‘Now, are you finished?’ he asked. ‘Good. Then go and get your handbag or whatever else you need. I’ll have Sam bring the car round, so don’t be long.’

      Cleo wanted to protest.

      She wanted to say that Dominic wouldn’t want to have lunch with someone for whom he evidently had so little respect.

      She wanted to suggest Jacob start making arrangements for her to return to England at the end of this week instead of next.

      But over all her objections, she felt an unmistakable surge of excitement.

      And how ridiculous was that?

       CHAPTER TEN

      DOMINIC lounged in his chrome and white leather chair, one arm hooked over its back, and wished the glass he was holding contained whisky.

      Wine was all very well, and his grandfather was something of a connoisseur. But Dominic needed something stronger. Something to stop his eyes from straying in Cleo’s direction every chance they had.

      He’d tried to concentrate on his surroundings. They were having lunch on the sundeck of the company’s yacht, shaded from too much brilliance by a huge canopy, and it was certainly a spectacular setting.

      The little town of San Clemente climbed the hill behind the marina, colour-washed walls and red-tiled roofs providing a stunning backdrop to the blue, blue water.

      A breeze blew up off the water, rattling the ties of the other yachts moored in the adjoining slips. It lifted the fringe of the canopy; caused a silky coil of Cleo’s hair to curl about her shoulder.

      Dammit!

      The trouble was, she looked so bloody attractive. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder top of some bronze-coloured fabric that hugged her breasts and outlined her hips. Knee-length shorts exposed bare calves and narrow ankles. She wore a gold chain round her ankle, drawn to his attention by provocative four-inch heels.

      There were huge gold rings in her ears, too, that brushed her bare shoulders every time she moved her head. Her hair was drawn loosely back from her face and tied at her nape with a chiffon scarf. But that didn’t stop errant strands escaping and causing him no end of grief.

      He swallowed the remainder of the wine in his glass and reached for the bottle of Merlot as his grandfather spoke.

      ‘Isn’t this nice?’ the old man said, including both of them in his sharp appraisal. ‘My two grandchildren and myself, having lunch together. What could be nicer, eh, Dom?’

      ‘Indeed,’ Dominic said drily, refilling his wine glass with a surprisingly steady hand. Considering the rest of his body was taut with frustration, he thought he managed it very well. ‘What could be nicer?’

      Cleo cast a wary look in his direction. She had few doubts that Dominic wasn’t enjoying the meal. From the moment they’d arrived at the Montoya Corporation’s offices, she’d sensed his resistance to the outing. If there’d been any way he could have got out of joining them without offending his grandfather, she was sure he would have done so.

      But, apart from the respect Dominic evidently had for the old man, Jacob was seriously ill, and his time was limited. It would have taken a more ruthless man than Dominic to deny such a simple request.

      ‘I hope you’re not drinking too much, boy.’ Jacob was nothing if not direct. He nodded to Dominic’s plate, where the better part of his risotto was congealing in the heat. ‘You’ve hardly touched your food.’

      Dominic gave a thin smile. ‘I wasn’t hungry, old man,’ he said evenly. ‘It’s too hot for eating.’ He paused before raising his glass to his lips again. ‘Particularly when you’re wearing a suit.’

      ‘Then get changed!’ exclaimed Jacob at once. ‘You know I’m expecting you to give Cleo a tour of San Clemente later this afternoon.’

      ‘Oh, that’s not necessary—’ began Cleo hurriedly, but her grandfather ignored her.

      ‘Me, I’m going to have a rest.’ Jacob blew out a breath. ‘But you’re right. It is hot.’

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