LITMIR.BIZ

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we need it,’ Angie said practically.

      After a tentative moment Iona asked, ‘How are things?’

      Her cousin paused before admitting, ‘You’ve probably guessed the recession’s making inroads into the client list, but we’re surviving.’ Her tone changed. ‘If there’s an emergency in the next two days, can I call on you? The boys are going to a birthday party tomorrow—well, actually it will be today—and tomorrow we’re going to the zoo.’

      ‘Of course. Give me the work phone,’ Iona said. ‘If I need you I’ll ring you on your personal phone. You need a break and the boys need time with you.’

      It took some persuading, but at last she managed to convince Angie to agree.

      Inside her tiny studio flat Iona showered and dropped into bed. Sleep came quickly, bringing with it images of a tall, dark man, images that led to dreams. Eventually she woke in a state of high excitement, blood racing through her veins, her body racked by a feverish desire.

      Grim-faced and desperate, she willed her heart to settle down and her body to relax. That was how it had started. Tahiti was everything the brochures had promised—wildly, sensuously exotic, filled with beautiful people of both sexes, scented by flowers and lapped by a brilliant turquoise sea, alive with the sound of music and drums and laughter, the hush of waves on the lagoon shores. The glorious islands throbbed with life.

      Iona had looked, but been unable to enjoy. Grief had dulled her senses so completely she’d felt totally disconnected from everything.

      And then she’d met Luke—Lukas. She’d had no idea who—or what—he was. The moment her gaze clashed with his lion eyes, sensations she’d believed had died for ever had suddenly flared into life, introducing her to hope. A flare of conscious response had set her nerves tingling and heated her body, sharpening her senses so that the world suddenly blazed into a glory of colour and sound and sensuous delight.

      Why had he pursued her? She’d asked him once, and he’d laughed.

      ‘Perhaps the thrill of the chase,’ he admitted without shame. ‘You looked at me with such cool disdain, as though I was less interesting to you than the shell in your hand. I wondered what it would be like to see desire in those intriguing blue-green mermaid’s eyes, as changeable and mysterious as the sea.’

      For some foolish reason his words hurt. She covered the momentary stab of pain with a smile, and slid her arms around him. ‘And has it lived up to your expectations?’

      His gaze kindled, golden flames dancing in the depths. ‘More than I ever expected; it’s infinitely fascinating to watch. And even more fascinating to experience,’ he said in a low growl, and kissed her.

      Lost in swift passion, she’d kissed him back, welcoming the hot tide of hunger that met and matched his.

      Their passionate, hedonistic affair had seemed so right in Tahiti, christened Aphrodite’s Isles by the first dazzled European sailors to visit those idyllic shores.

      Then one night, as the moon came up over the horizon in a splendour of silver and gold, he’d said, ‘I’m leaving in three days.’ He had smiled lazily at her startled face and kissed the curve of her breast, murmuring against her skin, ‘Come with me.’

      Each word had been a caress—a confident one. He’d had no doubt she’d do what he wanted. The fantasy world Iona had been living in crashed around her.

      ‘I can’t,’ she said, shocked by a swift, aching temptation to give him what he wanted.

      His eyes narrowed, focused on her face as intently as a hunter’s scrutiny. ‘Why?’

      ‘Because this has been—wonderful, but we both know it’s not real life.’ It was surprisingly hard to say, but his words had awakened the common sense she’d abandoned the moment her eyes had met his.

      He shrugged again and replied, ‘It could be.’ And when she remained silent, he said a little impatiently, ‘I will, of course, look after you—make sure you don’t lose anything by being with me.’

      Knowing what he was offering, she almost flinched. For a while she’d be his lover; while she was with him she’d exist in this sensual dream.

      And when it was over she’d go back to New Zealand with memories…

      And the possibility of more grief. She’d had enough of that in her life. ‘No,’ she said.

      He’d laughed deep in his throat and slid down her body, his mouth questing as he tasted her sleek skin.

      Later, when she was quivering with passionate exhaustion in his arms, he murmured, ‘I’m going to enjoy making you change your mind.’

      But, back in her own bed at the hotel, she’d dreamed of Gavin and woke weeping. And when she slipped out early to walk along the white sands, she forced herself to face a few unpleasant facts.

      Without realising it, she’d selfishly used Luke. Oh, he’d made it obvious from the start that he intended nothing more than a sexual relationship, but that didn’t make her feel any better.

      Her swift, reckless surrender to overwhelming passion had betrayed and tarnished the love she’d shared with Gavin. She tried to conjure up the emotions she’d felt for her fiancé, but against the blazing intensity of her relationship with Luke he seemed faded and shadowy, a lovely memory but no longer the foundation of her life.

      Shocked at her shallowness, she’d managed to wangle a seat on a plane to New Zealand. Fortunately Angie had been run off her feet with work, and Iona had flung herself into it, grimly ordering her mind to forget. It hadn’t been easy, but she thought she’d coped quite well.

      What malevolent fate had brought Luke back into her life again?

      At least, she thought just before she dropped back into a restless slumber, unless he had an emergency in the next two days Angie would be dealing with him.

      Hours later the tinny, cheerful tattoo of the theme from Bonanza woke her. Groaning, she crawled up from beneath the sheets, blinked blearily at the morning and grabbed the work phone. ‘Sorted. How can I help you?’

      A deep voice said, ‘You are not Ms Makepeace.’

      Little chills ran down her spine. Her hand tightened on the phone and she had to swallow to ease a suddenly dry throat.

      Luke.

      No, not Luke. The different names somehow seemed significant. He was not the man she’d made love to in Tahiti. He was Lukas Michelakis, billionaire.

      Striving to sound brisk and businesslike, she said, ‘Iona Guthrie speaking. I’m afraid Ms Makepeace can’t come to the telephone right now. How can I help you?’

      ‘I need someone here, now,’ Luke said evenly. ‘To take care of a three-year-old girl for the day.’

      ‘What?’ Iona literally couldn’t believe her ears. Luke Michelakis and a small child simply did not go together.

      Impatience tinged his words. ‘I am sure you heard correctly.’

      Irked by his tone, Iona ignored her whirling thoughts and didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes. Yes, all right, we can do that.’

      ‘You are sure this person will be reliable and sensible?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘I need to leave in half an hour.’

      Iona’s mouth thinned. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can, but I’m not going to be able to make it in that time.’

      ‘You will be here?’

      She reacted to his incredulous words with chilly aloofness. ‘L—Mr Michelakis, I’m a trained kindergarten teacher, and the only person you’re likely to get during the weekend at such short notice. The child will be safe in my care.’

      ‘Oh, call me Luke as you did in Tahiti—we

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