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The Bitter Price Of Love
AMANDA BROWNING
Mistress for hire! Hunter Jamieson has been furious to discover that his cousin's intended bride was the same little gold digger who had run out on him only days before. And it seemed Reba Wyeth was up to her old tricks… . She needed money - fast. And marrying Eliot Thorson III seemed the perfect deal. He'd get a beautiful woman on his arm.Reba would get the cash. Simple. Only Hunter Jamieson stood in her way. She had made the mistake of falling for the man, only to have to say goodbye. She'd had her reasons, of course, but Hunter wasn't interested in explanations - only revenge! The wedding was off! If Reba wanted money she could have it, but on one condition - that she become his mistress!Of Trail of Love: "Amanda Browning's portrayal of one woman's difficult search for the truth packs a wallop in itself, but when paired with an obsessive love, readers get twice the fun." - Romantic Times



Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u34d36c5d-644f-585f-b2c4-9c8050db153a)
Excerpt (#u0ef9e05c-1add-5e9a-8609-8f070cfc1c0e)
About the Author (#udf9bb01c-285d-5908-a8bd-499e1dd985f9)
Title Page (#u572af50d-9b28-5544-8871-b18f275c6b85)
CHAPTER ONE (#ued5d54a0-e6c3-5d16-b833-09e28fd2d585)
CHAPTER TWO (#u9933f18a-31a7-50ec-8ca1-fc0fda0bd73a)
CHAPTER THREE (#u5eef1048-8e53-5121-8364-f8d576243a06)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“I never expected to see you again!”
“I know that, tiger-eyes. I was shocked, too. But not so shocked that I didn’t recognize it wasn’t horror in your eyes when you looked at me, but hunger!”

Reba had hungered—for the love she felt only with him! Hunter had only seen the wanting as sexual!

“So Cousin Eliot’s the sucker you’ve got your hooks into. Does he know you’re only marrying him for his money?”
AMANDA BROWNING still lives in the house where she was born in Essex, England. The third of four children—her sister being her twin—she enjoyed the rough-and-tumble of life with two brothers as much as she did reading books. Writing came naturally as an outlet for a fertile imagination. The love of books led her to a career in libraries, and being single allowed her to take the leap into writing for a living. Success is still something of a wonder, but allows her to indulge in hobbies as varied as embroidery and bird-watching.

The Bitter Price Of Love
Amanda Browning



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_dd5f5d06-4c06-590e-b473-35ce28661fba)
IT WAS late. The party, which had been going on for hours, was slowly winding down. Finding herself temporarily alone, Reba Wyeth set down her half-empty glass and moved towards the patio door which gave access to the roof-garden of this penthouse apartment. Outside the air was cooler, free of the smoke which irritated her eyes. Down below, and as far as the eye could see, the city sparkled. New York. A faint smile curved her lips. The city was at her feet in more ways than one, so shouldn’t she feel happier? She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms. There was too much on her mind. Too much anxiety and concern. Everything was taking so long, and time was running out.
‘So there you are!’ a slightly scolding voice declared, and she turned, smiling at the man who came to join her.
Eliot Thorson III was universally considered to be quite a catch. He was in his late twenties, tall, tanned, with golden hair and blue eyes. Not only had he inherited a well-known chain of hotels, but he had an apartment in Manhattan and three others in LA, Paris and Rome. He also owned a string of polo ponies and an enormous yacht. Despite all of this, Reba had long ago decided he was a thoroughly nice man, whose only defect was that he was generous to a fault. She fought a constant battle to stop him showering her with anything she had shown the slightest interest in.
He also, to the dismay of her soft heart, thought he was in love with her. She didn’t feel the same, and hadn’t encouraged him in any way to think she might reciprocate. She could, of course, stop seeing him, but it seemed a drastic action, because he was a good friend and she enjoyed his company. She just hoped he would come to see, as she had, that it was an infatuation which would pass in time.
‘It was so stuffy in there, I needed to get some fresh air,’ she explained, and shivered again. It might be summer, but it could still be chilly in the small hours.
‘You’ll get more than fresh air; you’ll catch cold,’ Eliot pronounced, slipping off his dinner-jacket and placing it about her shoulders. ‘There, feel better?’ he asked, and when she nodded, he pulled her against him, holding her gently.
Reba didn’t protest. She had never felt threatened or overwhelmed by Eliot. She liked him. Liked him a lot. ‘Always the perfect gentleman,’ she teased lightly.
‘I’m glad you noticed,’ Eliot observed wryly, then, after a long, companionable silence, added, ‘When are you going to marry me, Reba?’
‘Marry you?’ Reba exclaimed, taken aback. This was a totally new development, and one she, rather naively, hadn’t expected. She should have done; even though she thought it was infatuation, he didn’t.
A fact he underlined now. ‘Don’t sound so surprised. You know I love you, don’t you?’
She hated hurting people, and struggled to frame a careful reply. ‘Yes, but are you sure, Eliot? You know, men fall in love with models all the time,’ she said gently, hoping he would see reason.
Eliot shook his head. ‘This isn’t like that. I love you, Reba. I want to take care of you and make you happy. Please say you’ll marry me.’
Reba eased herself free, so that she could look into his serious face. ‘Oh, Eliot, I care for you very much, but I don’t love you,’ she pointed out unhappily.
The admission didn’t dent his confidence one bit. ‘You will, if you let yourself.’
She had to laugh, albeit nervously. ‘You’re impossible! You can’t know that!’
‘I know I’m in love with you, and we could be happy together,’ he insisted, quartering her face with adoring eyes. ‘But you’re tired, aren’t you, sweetheart, and not up to taking me seriously? Come on, get your purse. I’ll take you home.’
Reba didn’t argue, for in truth she was very nearly out on her feet, and his unexpected proposal had knocked her for six. She was glad he had let the subject drop, although she didn’t believe she had heard the last of it for a moment. They said their goodbyes, and in a matter of minutes were on their way. Reba’s apartment had a view over Central Park, which gave her a feeling of space in an otherwise teeming city. Eliot escorted her right to her door, opening it for her before returning her key. Yet tonight he made no move to kiss her goodnight, and his face was entirely serious.
‘Listen, Reba, this is no joke. I want you to think seriously about marrying me.’ His hands gripped her shoulders through 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 the air seemed to leave her body in a rush. She thought, I know this man. He’s no stranger. I seem to have known him forever. It was the weirdest thing, and, what was more uncanny, he seemed to sense it too, for he went quite still. Without a word a message was sent and answered, and the world changed.
Maurice had been talking to the man, but he faltered when he realised he wasn’t being heard, and turned to find what had caught the other man’s attention. Reba was oblivious to more than one head turning, and only jolted out of the trance she appeared to be in when someone sniggered. Realising she was now the focus of everyone’s attention, a hot tide of embarrassment coloured her cheeks. Her heart was thumping fit to burst, and she glanced down quickly at her feet, trying to regain her composure. What on earth had just happened?
‘How sweet,’ Magda drawled snidely. ‘I do believe Reba has just fallen in love with the deck-hand!’
A jolt of shock ran through Reba at those words. Fallen in love? But she couldn’t have! Could she? Yet what else could explain this strange excitement inside her? The fizzing of her blood which made her feel more alive than she had ever been in her life?
Was this love?
‘You’d better snap out of it, Reba. Maurice looks like he’s going to throw a fit,’ Linda hissed in her ear, and Reba started, realising that they were the only two still left on the jetty. Everyone else was waiting on board, showing various degrees of impatience.
‘Sorry,’ Reba apologised, commanding her legs to move her forwards. She could feel eyes on her, but only one pair counted. A hand appeared to help her aboard, and she took it automatically, gasping as a frisson of electricity shot up her arm, and once more she met those incredible eyes.
‘Welcome aboard,’ he said easily, but there was a husky note to it, as if he had had trouble forcing the words out.
All her composure seemed to leave her in a flash. Her smile was wobbly, and her eyes questioned his, receiving an almost solar flare of emotion in return. Exhilarated and afraid all at once, she pulled free. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered, moving away, although it seemed incredibly hard to do.
‘Hi, I’m Linda,’ she heard the other girl say from behind her. ‘In case you’re interested, her name’s Reba.’
The man’s laugh was throaty and appreciative, and turned Reba’s stomach into knots. ‘Thanks, Linda. Hunter Jamieson.’
Hunter. She liked the sound of that. It suited him. Hunter…She daydreamed, and, for once in her life, the preparations for setting sail failed to hold her attention. In fact the whole day’s shooting became something of a dream. The man called Hunter never spoke to her, nor she to him, but she was vitally aware of his presence moving around the boat. It was as if she had suddenly become attuned to his frequency, and she didn’t have to look at him to know where he was.
She couldn’t concentrate properly, but must have done all that was expected of her because Maurice didn’t throw a tantrum. Yet it was hard to look at the camera when her eyes constantly wanted to stray. When they did, they clashed with blue ones intent on the same thing.
At the end of the day it was hard to leave the yacht, for it felt as if she were leaving part of herself behind. She had never felt this way before, and when she looked in the mirror in the privacy of her hotel room she found her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glittering. She saw a creature she no longer recognised. Every feature was the same, and yet not the same.
Of course it was impossible to sit still, and she went through the motions of preparing for dinner. She showered and washed her hair, slipping into a full-skirted, halter-necked sundress and comfortable espadrilles. However, she didn’t go down to the restaurant. Her stomach was churning too much for food. Something was calling to her, something stronger than any other need. As the sun began to set, she grabbed up her purse and a thin shawl and left, obeying an instinct as old as time itself.
The harbour was still alive with people, but as she made her way through the marina she met fewer and fewer. Most were out enjoying themselves, probably having dinner, and for a moment her heart failed her as she realised Hunter might not be on the yacht. Yet she need not have worried, for as she approached the boat she saw that there was light in the cabin, and as she came alongside he appeared on deck. Without a word he held out a hand, and she put hers into it and allowed him to help her aboard.
There was a moment when they simply gazed at each other, then Hunter smiled, and used his free hand to brush away a strand of hair which the impish breeze had blown across her face.
‘I knew you’d come,’ he said softly, yet with a certainty she couldn’t question.
‘Yes,’ she breathed, unable to deny it. Her eyes drank him in. Incredible to think they had only met hours ago, and yet it felt as if she had never belonged anywhere else. This evening he had changed into white chinos and a short-sleeved shirt, but they didn’t disguise the powerful body beneath.
He didn’t seem to mind her looking, nor did he release her hand. He studied her face as if he was imprinting it forever in his memory. ‘You have amazing eyes.’
‘So do you,’ she returned inanely, and flushed when he laughed. Yet there was no unkindness in it, more a release from the same tension that gripped her.
‘You don’t act like a model.’
Reba smiled up at him. ‘That’s what I do, not who I am.’
A strange light flickered at the back of his eyes. ‘And who are you, Reba?’
‘Just a woman,’ she told him simply, and watched fascinated as his mouth curved seductively as he smiled.
‘Oh, I’ll most definitely agree with that. You’re very much a woman,’ Hunter concurred huskily. ‘Have you eaten?’
The prosaic question made her realise that now she was quite incredibly hungry. ‘No.’
His fingers tightened on hers. ‘Good. I hope you like fish.’
Belatedly she became aware that behind him a table had been set for two, and from down below came the mouth-watering aroma of cooking. ‘I love it.’
Hunter dragged a hand through his hair, lips curving. ‘Somehow I knew you would,’ he said oddly, shaking his head before smiling again. ‘Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I’ll only be a moment.’
Reba caught her breath. So he felt it too, this knowing. ‘Do you need any help?’
‘Everything’s under control. Don’t run away,’ he cautioned as he headed for the steps.
She wouldn’t. She didn’t think she could. And even if she did, something told her she would have to come back. A cliché, but true: home was where the heart was, and her heart was here. The admission didn’t sound crazy or ridiculous, it just sounded right. Incredibly, amazingly right.
It was a feeling which grew all through the beautiful dinner Hunter had prepared. Someone could have dropped a bomb and it wouldn’t have penetrated the cocoon which surrounded them. The outside world had ceased to exist. They talked as if it were going out of fashion. Hunter seemed to have an unquenchable need to know everything there was to know about her. She found herself telling him things she hadn’t thought about for years. Afterwards, as they sipped at glasses of wine, he held her hand across the table, toying with her fingers, caressing them and twining them with his. She knew from his handling of the yacht that he was strong, yet his touch was gentle, almost as if he was afraid she would break.
Reba sighed. ‘Do you realise we’ve talked and talked, and yet I don’t even know if you have a mother?’
‘I did have, but both my parents are dead now. I’m thirty-three years old, have no brothers or sisters, and I mess about with boats for a living. Your turn.’
‘I’m a model, and twenty-three years old. I have a mother, but no father, and a brother and sister younger than me.’
‘So your mother had to work to raise you?’
Reba nodded. ‘Until she became ill. She’s something of an invalid now, but she has the most amazing courage.’ She hoped he wouldn’t ask her more, because Harriet Wycth was a proud woman, wanting complete control over who knew the truth of her illness. She simply refused to be pitied, and it had become second nature to her children to say nothing unless they asked her first.
Whether Hunter instinctively knew that or not, he forbore to question the statement. ‘I’d like to meet her some time,’ was all he said, and she squeezed his hand in relief.
‘She’d like you.’
Blue eyes danced. ‘Doesn’t she usually like your boyfriends?’
She sent him an old-fashioned look. ‘If you’re asking me if I have one, the answer is no.’ She had a fleeting thought for Eliot, but dismissed it.
‘Good,’ he pronounced gruffly, and her heart flipped over. Almost in the same instant she yawned, and Hunter looked at his watch. ‘Do you realise it’s gone one o’clock? I’d better get you back to the hotel. You need your beauty sleep,’ he declared, releasing her hand only to come round and help her to her feet, handing her her purse and draping her shawl about her shoulders.
‘Funny, but I don’t feel in the least bit tired,’ Reba pronounced, and immediately yawned again.
Hunter helped her down to the jetty with a laugh. ‘Something tells me Maurice won’t be pleased if you end up with bags under your eyes. I don’t want him deciding to use another boat. Then I’ll hardly get to see you.’ He slipped his arm round her shoulders and urged her towards the shore.
Reba decided she had never felt so secure. ‘Do you want to see me again?’ she asked, half teasing, half serious.
‘Only all the time,’ Hunter admitted wryly, and prompted a confession which had been bubbling inside her all day.
‘You’ll think it’s crazy, but I feel as if I’ve known you all my life.’
Hunter came to a halt, raising her chin with his hand so that their eyes met. ‘It’s not crazy, Reba. I feel the same. The minute I saw you, I knew you were different,’ he said, and brought his mouth down to cover hers.
It was a gentle kiss, offering much in its infinite tenderness. It was a promise of things to come, a seal on words unspoken. It took her heart away, and returned it to her irrevocably altered.
He released her with a shaken sigh. ‘This is uncanny. This morning I was a normal, level-headed man. Now I don’t seem to know which way is up any more.’
Oh, she knew just how he felt. Nothing had prepared her for this. Nothing ever could. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Hell, no! I’ve waited all my life for you; I’m not going to run away now.’
Her heart seemed to swell in her chest. It didn’t matter that they had only just met. Something that was destined to be could take five minutes or fifty years, but it would happen. She knew in her soul that they had been meant to meet.
Hunter left her at the hotel entrance, driving her there in a beat-up Jeep which had been parked behind one of the waterfront bars. Not wanting the evening to be over, Reba turned to him just as he was reaching for her, and this time the kiss was different. It sought a response to a passion held in check. Tasting her, learning her, he took her breath away and sent her blood pulsing through her veins. That unspoken awareness which had been between them all evening came to the surface at last, and she gasped, feeling nerve-ends come alive which she hadn’t even known existed. There was no way of not returning the kiss, and no way of hiding her groan of dismay when it ended all too soon.
Hunter’s breathing was ragged too, as he ran a finger over her tingling lips. ‘Momma should have told me it could be like this,’ he said huskily on a broken laugh, breaking the nerve-twisting tension, and Reba sighed, relaxing.
‘Do you realise you haven’t asked me about my girlfriends?’
Somehow the thought didn’t worry her. ‘How many have you had?’
His chuckle did wonderful things to her pulse-rate. ‘Plenty—in the past. Now there’s only you, and I want you all to myself. Do you mind?’ Hunter sounded possessive, and it sent a thrill along her spine.
‘No.’ She didn’t want to share him either. She wanted to be alone with him, close to him. A minute without him would seem a minute wasted.
‘Don’t leave with the others tomorrow. Stay aboard, and we’ll sail up the coast. What do you say?’
She smiled. ‘Yes.’
Hunter groaned. ‘The way you say that! It’s going to be a hell of a long day.’
Laughing, she climbed down from the vehicle. It would be a long day, but eventually it would be over, and then there would be just the two of them. She liked the sound of that. Liked it very much indeed.
They were both right; it did seem to take forever, but finally, after a successful day’s filming, the crew and the models were packed up and ready to leave. Reba had wished them gone a thousand times, because she hadn’t been able to speak to Hunter above twice all day. Every hour the need had grown inside her to be near to him, to touch him. She’d never really understood why couples felt they had to be glued together, but now she knew. It was a compulsive need to make contact, even if that simply meant holding hands.
‘They’re gone,’ Hunter declared from behind her, and she spun round, not having heard him come down to the cabin which they had been using as a changing-room.
A lump constricted her throat as she finally came face to face with him. There was a glitter in his eyes, and a teasing curve to his lips which made her heart flip. ‘I thought they’d never go!’ she exclaimed, wanting to go to him, yet strangely held back. She didn’t realise how vulnerable she looked in jeans and T-shirt, with her face free of make-up.
‘Come and kiss me, Reba, before I go quietly insane,’ he ordered huskily, and she knew then that he had suffered as much as she had.
She positively flew across the room and into his arms. All day she had been longing for his kiss and, from the hunger in his own lips which fused with hers, she knew she hadn’t been alone. Lord, she hadn’t imagined it, this tingling pleasure that sent pulses to every corner of her body, bringing it alive as never before. He was holding her so tightly that she could scarcely breathe, but it was wonderful.
Hunter reluctantly lifted his head before they suffocated. ‘I needed that,’ he groaned feelingly, and his fingers curled into her hair, bringing her head down on to his shoulder.
She could hear his heart thudding wildly, and revelled in it. ‘I missed you.’
He laughed. ‘God, this is crazy. We’re behaving like a couple of teenagers!’
Reba laughed with him, a bubbling sound, feeling almost drunk with happiness. ‘You know something? I don’t care.’
‘Neither do I. Come on, let’s get under way.’
They worked together as if they had always been a team. Reba didn’t need to be told what to do, jumping to each task with pleasure. It was hard work, but she enjoyed every aspect of sailing, even the most mundane job. When the sails were set and they were skimming along, leaving a creamy wake behind them, she joined Hunter at the wheel, slipping her arm through his.
He bent and pressed a kiss to her wind-blown hair. ‘You look at home here.’
It felt like the greatest compliment, coming from a man who seemed at one with the craft and the sea. ‘I love sailing, but I’ve never sailed a yacht as lovely as this. She handles beautifully—it makes me itch to have a go.’
He grinned, stepping back. ‘Then she’s all yours.’
With a cry of alarm, Reba sprang for the wheel, bringing the yacht’s nose into the wind again, watching the sail billow out. ‘That was a nasty trick!’
‘I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t trust you,’ Hunter returned, laughing. ‘Keep her on that course and try not to hit anything!’
She poked her tongue out at him, then laughed, buoyed up by his compliment. The wind tugged at her hair, and the spray caught her face, but she was on cloud nine. As far as she was concerned, they could sail on forever and never stop, so long as they were together.
However, they put in at a small uninhabited bay not too far along the coast and dropped anchor. Dinner was simple—chicken, French bread, cheese, fruit and white wine—but food had never tasted better. Afterwards they stretched out along the seat-cushion, finishing off the wine.
‘Where did you learn to sail?’ Hunter asked, settling her more comfortably into the curve of his arm.
‘My father was a sailor. He encouraged me, and later on I joined our local sailing club,’ she explained, trying not to be so vitally aware of his strong body pressed along the length of hers. But it was impossible. Little fires flickered into life all through her, and she wanted nothing more than to turn and press herself closer, to explore the flats and planes his clothes only hinted at.
‘Why did you take up modelling?’ Ever so gently his free hand began caressing a line up and down her arm.
Reba recalled the reason with a twist of her heart. She wanted to explain, but her mother preferred to keep her illness a secret within the family. Although she knew Hunter was trustworthy, she still couldn’t break her promise. ‘I didn’t intend to, but a friend told me I could make a lot of money at it, so I changed my mind.’ It was the truth, as far as it went.
Hunter’s hand left her arm to go to her chin and raise it so that he could see her face. He was frowning. ‘Is it so important to make a lot of money?’
She shrugged, trying to make light of it. ‘Of course, if you don’t have any. Only the rich can say money isn’t important, and that’s because they have more than enough for their needs.’ Her eyes clouded over. ‘Sometimes our needs are bigger than our pockets.’
‘Mmm, you may be right,’ he conceded, then, in an abrupt change of mood, set his glass down and relieved her of her own. Getting to his feet, he held out his hand. ‘Dance with me.’
Bemused, she automatically allowed him to pull her up and into his arms. ‘There isn’t any music,’ she protested as he slowly began to move.
‘Sure there is. Just close your eyes and listen,’ Hunter argued, pulling her closer until there was no air between them. They fitted as if they had been made two halves of a whole, and as her head came to rest on his shoulder, eyes closing, she began to hear the music.
Her free hand travelled up to his nape, fingers curling into the thickness of his hair. She could feel his lips on her own hair, slowly fanning downwards to her eye and her cheek, and it was simplicity itself to raise her head the fraction needed for their lips to meet. She heard music of a different kind then, at the first gentle caress. He sipped at her, tasting her sweetness, and her lips softened, moving to his command, parting at the silken glide of his tongue.
Everything vanished. There was only this exquisite sensation, the gentle exploration slowly building up a powerful need to act and not just react. Her tongue moved, touching his, and the sensation was electric. She gasped, pressing closer, boldly seeking more and more as his kiss became increasingly demanding. They fed off each other, and what had started so gently soon became a conflagration.
Reba had never experienced anything like it. Nobody had ever made her feel like this, arousing a need that throbbed inside her. As his hands found their way beneath her T-shirt her legs very nearly gave out. His touch was scorching her. She was going up in flames! And yet she wanted to burn. She wanted to feel his hands on her body, and she wanted to explore him the same way. The first brush of his thumbs along the swell of her breasts brought a whimper of the purest pleasure to her lips, and when he finally cupped her bounty, stroking her nipples into aching buds, she shuddered and her head fell back helplessly as she arched towards him.
‘Hunter!’ His name was an ache of need. She had no doubts, no fears. She gladly gave herself over to him, trusting him implicitly not to hurt her. Anything he wanted, she wanted. He was the lover she had dreamt of. He would take her to the heights and keep her safe. She loved him.
‘No!’ Hunter drew his hands away, and her drugged brain registered that they were trembling as he smoothed her T-shirt back down. Gazing into her bewildered eyes, he smiled crookedly. ‘No, Reba. This is too fast. God knows, I want you, but I want to get to know you first. I want us to go slowly, savour everything, not rush on as if there were no tomorrow. When we finally make love it will be all the better for waiting, I promise.’
Reba felt choked. She had been importuned all her adult life by men who wanted only one thing from her, and now here was the one man she would gladly have given herself to, with no regrets, saying they should wait. It made her feel cherished, and she knew he really cared for her.
Her eyes glittered brightly with tears that knew nothing of pain. ‘All right,’ she agreed, and sighed as his arms closed around her. ‘After all, we’ve got all the time in the world.’

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_faa4caca-44cb-5105-af78-4d30424164da)
THE ten days which followed became a period of time Reba would never forget. Even in her darkest moments, they would hold a warmth and brilliance that could never be dimmed. It was a time of discovery, as much about herself as about Hunter. She discovered what it was like to be truly happy. The fact that that happiness was totally bound up with another person didn’t worry her, because she knew that what was true for her was true for him also.
Outside work, they became virtually inseparable. At first she was teased unmercifully, but when it became apparent that there was more here than just a passing flirtation, the company grew silent, watching the romance unfolding before them with equal measures of warmth and envy.
Apart from a shared love of sailing, which they indulged almost every day, sailing a short way round the island at evening to have dinner in their own private cove, they also discovered an equal love and concern for nature. They held long discussions on the way natural habitats were being destroyed, and what they could do to put the world right. Other times they took long walks along the silver beaches, or went inland, where Hunter introduced her to the joys of bird-watching.
They spent every available hour together, exploring the island and enjoying each other’s company. To an outsider it might have looked platonic, but they were fully aware that underlying everything was that banked-down passion. Reba found it added spice to everything they did. It was something special to wait for, to savour, and their goodnight kisses were a pleasurable torture. She knew, beyond any doubt, that she loved him, and was as certain as she could be that he loved her. He didn’t have to say it. He had a way of being able to tell her with the briefest of touches, or just a look or smile. He made her heart sing.
Yet the banked fires in his eyes made her shiver in anticipation. His control was awesome, all the more so when, as the days passed, hers became less and less in evidence. Her dreams became extremely erotic as she fantasised about what would happen when that control finally snapped.
She found out in a rush when the shoot on the yacht ended. Their next location was to be up in the hills somewhere, near a waterfall. A week there, and then the assignment was over. For the first time Reba became uncertain. Hunter had to know the assignment wouldn’t last forever, and yet he had said nothing. She had made tentative arrangements to remain behind, though not at the hotel. She had hoped she could persuade Hunter to allow her to stay on the yacht, but his silence made her hesitate to ask.
Perhaps she would broach the subject tonight, she thought, as she showered and changed into a brilliantly hued sarong she had picked up in the market. As had become habit, she had stayed on board when the others left, and was just gathering everything up into her bag when the door behind her crashed open. She spun round in alarm, finding Hunter advancing on her with a thunderous face.
‘So!’ He snatched the bag from her hands and emptied it out again on the bunk. ‘You are leaving! Just when were you going to tell me, Reba?’ he demanded, in a voice which threatened to topple small mountains.
Her mouth dropped open in sheer surprise. ‘What?’
She could have sworn that she heard his teeth grind. ‘Don’t give me that. I’ve just spent the last ten minutes being thanked for my services and told goodbye!’
She understood then, and bit her lip to stop herself smiling. ‘Hunter, will you please calm down,’ she ordered, feeling a bubble of laughter rise up inside her. Oh Lord, he’d never forgive her if she laughed.
‘Give me one good reason why I should?’ he demanded loudly.
‘Because I’m not leaving!’ she shouted back equally loudly, and watched him falter to a halt.
‘You’re not leaving?’ He asked for confirmation much more quietly.
Reba had to bring her hand up to cover her twitching lips. ‘We’re going to another location, not leaving the island. At least, not yet,’ she explained, and watched in fascination as a tide of colour rose up his neck. Then, of course, she did laugh. She simply couldn’t help it.
Something primeval burst into life at the back of his eyes, and he advanced on her. ‘So you think it’s funny, do you? Let’s see how you like this!’ With a squeal she tried to avoid him, but he was too quick for her. Tossing her over his shoulder, he carried her struggling body along to the master cabin. Shutting the door with his foot, he tossed her down on the bed and came down after her, pinning her to the covers with the weight of his body.
In a flash everything changed. Reba’s eyes grew huge as she stared up at him, seeing the softening of his face, the sensuous curve of his lips. ‘Is this the punishment?’ she whispered thickly, feeling her blood begin to pump heavily through her veins.
Hunter’s eyes dropped to her lips, and they parted in anticipation of his kiss. ‘Hell, no. This is the prize. Somewhere along the line I must have done something good, and you’re my reward. I’m never going to let you go.’
With that he lowered his mouth to hers and, as she welcomed him, she knew that this time there was to be no turning back. Passion rose swiftly. She couldn’t recall who undressed whom. Perhaps they undressed each other. All she knew was that at last they were free of all restrictions, because flesh burned flesh as they moved together. Love taught her what to do as she travelled this new path. It gave her pleasure to run her hands over the sweat-slicked planes of his shoulders and back, feeling the heat of him, glorying in the way he moaned and arched into her. It was wondrous to find that he experienced the same pleasures at her touch as she did at his caresses, and her hands flitted upwards, finding the flat male nipples and teasing them until she heard him catch his breath.
He fell back against the pillow, his magnificent body open to her hot gaze. She didn’t see the way his eyes glittered through the slits of his lashes as she embarked on a voyage of discovery. Where her hand roamed, her lips followed, tasting him, knowing him. She heard him sigh and move, felt his hand come down to tangle in her hair, but when she would have made her final conquest his fingers tightened and pulled her upwards until he rolled over, pinioning her again.
‘God, you’re a witch. You take me to the limits of my control.’
‘I want you to lose it,’ Reba gasped, as his mouth trailed a fiery path down her throat.
‘Not yet, tiger-eyes, not yet,’ he growled, and set about making her lose hers instead.
It didn’t take long, with his hands and lips exploring every inch of her. Soon she was writhing against him as his mouth teased her breasts. His tongue laved her nipples even as his teeth nipped, and as her hands rose to hold him to her he drew her aching flesh into the warm cavern of his mouth and suckled until she cried out her pleasure.
He taught her body to sing, playing it like a finely tuned instrument, bringing her from one peak to the next, yet always leaving her aching for the summit which seemed beyond her reach. But then, magically, it wasn’t. His seeking hands found the warm, moist centre of her, stroking her until she arched and froze as a myriad stars exploded behind her closed eyes. And as she floated somewhere beyond herself he moved over her, parting her thighs with his, entering her slowly, breaking the last tie to her former self. He transported her upwards on a coil of tension which grew and grew with every thrust of the powerful body which had finally lost control, until there was nowhere else to go and the world exploded in unimaginable pleasure.
The universe righted itself very slowly as Reba raised eyelids which seemed to be weighted. She was curled into the warmth of Hunter’s side, and with a sigh she realised that they were lying on the bed in the master cabin of the yacht, in the aftermath of the most exquisite loving. She couldn’t remember ever being so happy. Her head rested on Hunter’s chest while his fingers idly combed their way through her damp hair. She loved the sound of his heart beating; it was so solid and reassuring.
‘How do you feel?’ There was concern in his voice. Even in his passion, he had recognised that it was her first time.
‘Wonderful,’ she breathed, knowing she might ache tomorrow, but not caring.
‘I didn’t hurt you?’
She lifted her head then, lips twisting in a wry grin. ‘I can’t remember.’
Hunter grinned back. ‘I was that good, hmm?’
She dug her chin into his shoulder, making him wince. ‘Don’t get big-headed. I have nothing to compare it with, remember?’
He tweaked her nose. ‘Never mind, I have. On a scale of one to ten, I’d say you were——’ He broke off as her fingers threatened a tender spot, laughing as he rolled her over. ‘Jealous?’
Her confidence was high. ‘Should I be?’
‘No,’ Hunter confessed at once, propping himself on one elbow and smoothing her damp hair away from her face. ‘We’ve got to make some plans, tiger-eyes,’ he declared softly, and her heart galloped on apace as she anticipated what plans he meant. A tiny smile hugged the curve of her lips as her finger found the dimple in his chin.
‘What plans are those?’
He caught her hand, kissing the tip of each finger in turn. ‘You said you’d have to leave eventually.’
‘I can stay a little longer, if you’ll let me stay on the yacht.’ She put forward her plans hopefully.
‘But you’ll still have to leave, right?’ he added, his face losing some of its softness.
Reba licked her lips. ‘I have to work, Hunter. What else can I do?’
Blue eyes bored into hers. ‘You could marry me,’ he suggested, and they were the most wonderful words she had ever heard, bar three yet unspoken.
‘Oh, Hunter, I’d love to marry you. Whenever you say!’ she cried, flinging herself against him as tears moistened her eyes. Yet even in the midst of her happiness, reality intruded. ‘But I’ll still have to work.’
He smiled into her wet eyes. ‘No, you won’t. Let me do the worrying about money. I might mess about with boats for a living, but it is a living. I can support my own wife.’
Of course he could, but he didn’t understand the situation. She knew he would when she explained to him, and she would do that as soon as she had her mother’s permission. It was important to Harriet Wyeth to feel she was in control of some of her life, and although Reba knew she could tell him now, she felt she couldn’t betray a trust. Besides, it would only be for one day. As long as it took to make a phone call. Then they would work something out. Two people who loved each other as much as they did would always be able to work out their problems together.
‘All right, Hunter, whatever you say.’
Hunter groaned, his smile rueful. ‘Lord, if only I could be as certain you’d always be this docile, tiger-eyes.’
‘Never mind. It doesn’t matter how uppity I might get, you’ll always be able to make me purr,’ she tantalised, and pulled his head down to hers.

Not surprisingly, it was late when Hunter dropped Reba off at her hotel. He had wanted her to stay over but, with the shoot moving on, she knew she would have to be up early. So they parted reluctantly at the entrance, where she kissed him goodnight and hurried inside. When she went to collect her key from the night clerk, he handed it to her, together with a folded piece of paper.
‘There is a message for you, Miss Wyeth. Somebody tried to contact you earlier, but we did not know where you were.’
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. She knew this was going to hurt her more than it would him, and it seemed to take an awful effort to find her voice. ‘Jim Mitchell’s yacht?’ she queried faintly.
At first Hunter didn’t register the strain in her voice. ‘He owns the company who owns the fashion-house you’re advertising. That’s how you got to use the yacht for your shoot.’
Deep inside her her soul screamed, as if it had just been dragged down into hell. He was making it so easy for her. Stiffly, as if she had suddenly aged a hundred years, Reba made herself face him. Lord, I’m so cold. So cold. ‘But…I thought this was your yacht?’ she said sharply, embarking on what she knew was going to be a living nightmare.
Her tone reached him now, and he frowned. His eyes scanned her, noting her paleness. There was a strange silence before he spoke. ‘Did you?’ he asked, and she had never heard that quality in his voice before.
The very flatness in the tone of those two words spoke volumes. He was way ahead of her now. She sensed it. A pain so fierce that it twisted her up almost brought a moan to her lips. Oh God, Hunter, I love you. Forgive me. Hands bunched into fists, she made herself sound angry, as if she were the aggrieved party. ‘You certainly acted as if you owned it!’
Hunter went still. His blue eyes had become shuttered, and when he spoke his voice cut like cold steel. ‘I see. You thought I was a rich man, didn’t you?’ A violent anger entered his eyes as he shook his head. ‘Boy, did you have me fooled. I actually thought you loved me too.’
Love him? She loved him so much she thought she might die from the pain. But she couldn’t. She had to shrug and wave her hand dismissively. ‘Of course I loved you, but…’ She let the word hang tellingly.
His beautiful mouth turned ugly. ‘But only because I was a rich man? Tell me, precisely what did you think messing about with boats meant?’
She had to swallow hard in order to answer. ‘That you owned the thing, of course!’
‘And so you thought you had it made when I asked you to marry me.’
She was going to shatter. Every hope and dream she had ever had was here, coalesced into this one man—and she couldn’t have him. It took every ounce of her courage to add to the lie. ‘I told you how important money was. I made up my mind a long time ago to marry a rich man.’
The love which had once blazed from his eyes was gone forever, replaced by a searing contempt. ‘Whether you love him or not?’
Every look and word was a blade to cut her with. She was amazed that he couldn’t see she was dying inside. She felt as if her emotions were written in neon. Yet her shrug was a perfect gem of indifference. ‘Naturally I’d prefer to love him. When I met you——‘
‘You thought you’d hit the jackpot!’ Hunter interrupted harshly, then abruptly moved away from her, as if the closeness would taint him. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, but you just lucked out.’
Reba clung to her small victory as if it were a lifeline. Her words had worked. Already he hated her. Despair like she had never known threatened to overtake her, but she couldn’t give in to it. Now, or ever. ‘You win some, you lose some.’
Her words drew a glance so cold she flinched. ‘That’s your philosophy, is it?’
If only it were! Unfortunately she didn’t have another flip answer in her right then. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked finally.
‘Does it matter? I’ll probably put out, but wherever I go, it certainly won’t be where the rich hang out. I intend to go and get royally drunk, and thank my lucky stars I’m not rich, because I’ve just had a lucky escape from the greediest little gold-digger it’s ever been my misfortune to meet!’ he growled at her.
She caught back a sob by pressing her hand to her lips. ‘I do love you in my way, Hunter,’ she managed to say, wanting to tell him, even if he no longer listened.
His lip curled. ‘Sweetheart, you don’t know what love is. If you did, you wouldn’t have just thrown it all away. I don’t know who I pity most—you, or the man you eventually manage to snare. One day you’re going to find out money isn’t everything, Reba,’ he told her, and without another word he swung himself back on board and disappeared below.
Knowing her composure was about to desert her, Reba retraced her steps on legs which threatened to give out at any minute. She had done what she had set out to do, but there was no joy in the knowledge. Her whole body ached with the pain of her betrayal, but she hoped that one day he would thank her for what she had done. At least she had the satisfaction of knowing he wouldn’t go on wanting someone he could never have.
Hailing a cruising taxi, she collapsed inside and asked to be taken back to the hotel. She glanced at her watch, amazed to see that barely an hour had passed. Hysteria brought a lump to lodge in her throat. It had taken less than an hour to bring her world down around her. Somehow she had to salvage what she could and go on, but she knew she would never see Hunter again, and her heart was a dead thing inside her.
Then began her dark night of the soul. Back in her hotel room, she flung herself down on the bed and cried until there were no more tears left. In the state of numbness which followed, she told herself that there had been nothing else she could do. Too much rested on her, and she couldn’t selfishly abandon her mother to her fate. She loved Hunter. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She had done the only thing she could for him, by making him hate her.
But it didn’t ease the pain. It would take months, even years, to make thinking about him halfway bearable.
Emotionally drained, she knew she would have to put on the second greatest act of her life in the next few days. Eliot at least didn’t expect a wild display of affection from her, but she would have to show him she was happy in her choice. She hadn’t decided when she would ask him for his help. That would depend on how she found her mother.
Harriet was the one who had to believe that Reba was happy. Neither she, nor the rest of the family, must ever know the sacrifice she had made. She knew her mother would blame herself for ruining her daughter’s life, and that was a situation Reba was determined to avoid. So, to all appearances, this marriage would be for love and no other reason.
At least that gave her a purpose, a reason to go on, and she flew home to England later that day, determined to appear happy. The house was empty when she reached it the following day, but Maggie had left her a note saying she had gone to the hospital, and that there was salad in the fridge for her if she wanted it. Having forced herself to eat on the plane, she only lingered long enough to wash and redo her make-up before driving herself to the hospital in the car she had left garaged at the house.
She called in to see the doctor first, and he was characteristically cautious.
‘As you know, every one of these attacks worsens her condition. Your mother is a very resilient woman, and she fights back every time, but it cannot go on indefinitely. The operation will still be able to help her so long as it takes place fairly soon. However, there will come a time when it is no longer viable, especially should she be unable to travel.’
This was pretty much what Reba had expected to hear, and it helped her to know that her decision had been the right one. ‘I expect to get the money very soon. If the operation was to take place within the next two or three months, that would still be OK, wouldn’t it?’ she queried, needing to know precisely. Either she asked Eliot before they were married, or after. Lord, just how did she go about asking for so large an amount?
The doctor pursed his lips. ‘I should think the sooner the better. Our best hope is that your mother doesn’t have another attack too soon.’
That was it then. It must be before the wedding. ‘I’ll have the money next week. Please go ahead and make all the arrangements.’
The doctor looked taken aback, but he rallied at once, not looking a gift horse in the mouth. ‘That’s good news. I’ll put the wheels in motion then, and let you know when everything is ready.’
‘Thank you, Doctor.’ Reba’s own smile was tight, but he didn’t seem to notice. She went off in search of her mother then, finding her in a small ward that took four beds, two of which were empty at present.
‘Reba!’ Maggie was out of her seat as soon as she saw her sister’s head appear round the door. She was shorter than Reba, her hair browner and her eyes more hazel, but she was just as beautiful, in a less exotic way. ‘Thank goodness you’ve arrived.’
They hugged each other warmly, then Reba glanced over at the bed. ‘How is she?’
‘Better. The doctor says she may go home soon. I told her you were coming. She ticked me off!’
Reba smiled. ‘Then she must be better.’
Maggie grinned, as much in relief as amusement. ‘I’ll go and get you some coffee, shall I? I expect you’ll want to talk to her on your own for a bit.’
‘Actually I want to talk to you both, so don’t be long,’ she disagreed, and moved to her mother’s bedside as Maggie left the room.
Harriet Wyeth looked pale and drawn as she lay against her pillows, but her eyes were as sharp as ever as she looked up at her eldest child.
‘I told Maggie she shouldn’t have sent for you,’ she protested.
Reba bent down to kiss her mother’s cheek, then sat down in the chair her sister had vacated. ‘I’m glad she did. I would have come anyway. I’ve some news for you.’
Harriet pulled herself a little higher up the pillow. ‘Good news?’
‘The very best,’ she agreed, taking her mother’s hand and squeezing it gently.
‘What have I missed?’ Maggie demanded to know, returning just then with the coffee which she set down on the locker.
‘Nothing, darling,’ Harriet assured her at once. ‘Reba was just saying she’s got some good news for us. Tell us, dear, or Maggie is going to burst.’
‘I will not!’ Maggie protested, but she looked across avidly at her sister all the same.
Reba licked her lips. She had prepared what she was going to say during the endless flight, and now hoped she could pull it off. ‘Well, I didn’t like to say anything before I went away, but this assignment brought us very near the total we need. Then I managed to earn some bonuses too, so the good news is that you should be having your operation very soon, Mum!’ she announced, and the look on her mother’s face was reward enough for all her own sorrow.
‘Oh, Reba!’ Her mother’s soft exclamation was drowned out by Maggie’s squeal of delight, quickly followed by a sudden rush of tears.
‘Are you pleased?’
Harriet’s fingers tightened on her daughter’s. ‘Of course I am, but for your sake. You’ve worked so hard, and I never thought it was fair to ask so much of you. I’ve longed to be able to get up and help. I’ve felt so angry and helpless! But now you can stop and get on with your own life.’
‘Mum, if you could get up and walk, you would. We all know that,’ Maggie said as she wiped her eyes.
‘And I am going to get on with my life,’ Reba added quickly. ‘That’s my other piece of news. I’m going to get married.’ There, it was out, and she hadn’t made a mess of it—yet.
Harriet Wyeth’s surprise quickly changed to delight. ‘Married? Why, Reba, that’s wonderful news. Who is it? Do I know him?’
‘His name is Eliot, Mother. Eliot Thorson the Third, to be exact. You don’t know him, but I’m hoping you’ll meet him soon.’
Her mother’s eyes widened. ‘Good heavens, with a name like that, he sounds well off.’
Reba laughed, even as she felt heat invade her cheeks. ‘Actually, his family does happen to own one of the largest hotel chains in the States,’ she enlightened them calmly, hoping they would mistake guilt for self-consciousness.
‘Do you love him very much, Reba?’ Harriet asked softly.
Love him? In an instant Reba’s mind threw up the picture of a pair of intense blue eyes, before the need for self-preservation made her blank it out. They weren’t for her, and right now she couldn’t allow herself to remember that pain.
‘Yes, I love him. Eliot’s a wonderful man.’ The lie tripped easily off her tongue. She was getting good at it. ‘You’ll like him.’
Harriet smiled. ‘Of course I will. I’ll like any man who loves you and can make you happy, Reba. It’s been my dearest wish that you should fall in love one day,’ she added gently, unwittingly opening a wound that could never heal.
Pain caught Reba unprepared, and she was glad her watery eyes and smile were misinterpreted. ‘Everything is turning out right after all, isn’t it?’ she said gruffly. ‘We’re fighters and survivors, and we’ve won through.’
Harriet Wyeth laughed through her own tears. ‘Yes, darling, we have. And now you’re going to do something for yourself and be happy, Reba.’
Reba uttered a choked laugh. ‘I will be. Marrying Eliot will make me happy. Very, very happy,’ she insisted firmly.
‘So when is the wedding to be, and can I be bridesmaid?’ Maggie asked, grinning all over her face because her world had been miraculously brightened.
Reba pulled a wry face. ‘We haven’t decided. Actually, Eliot doesn’t even know I’ve accepted.’ Seeing their two startled expressions, she eased in yet another lie. ‘You see, he asked me before this assignment, and although I would have said yes, Eliot insisted I take this time to make sure. I had to see you first—that’s why I’ve told you. I’m going to fly back to New York and tell him myself, now that I know you’re OK.’ This was make or break. If her mother should smell a rat…
But she didn’t; she merely shook her head and laughed.
‘You young people do things in the most crazy way! Now, take a deep breath and tell me all about him.’
With her boats well and truly burned, Reba could do nothing else but accept the invitation with all the enthusiasm she could muster. Perhaps if she told herself she would be happy often enough, one day it might even come true.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_6497dbe2-a32e-5438-aedd-44da82ef6a2e)
REBA flew back to New York in the middle of the following week. Those few days with her family had been a strain, but somehow she had managed to get through them without breaking down. That first evening at home she had cried long into the night, her tears muffled by her pillow, but it had been the last time. Afterwards she told herself firmly that there was nothing to gain from thinking it could have been different, that Eliot was the wrong man. What was done was over, and now Eliot was the only man.
Which was why she didn’t waste time unpacking when she returned to her apartment. Instead she took a quick shower and changed into a fashionable suit with a short black skirt and buttercup-yellow jacket. Once again she made up well, needing to mask her vulnerable emotions and give them some necessary protection. A dash of perfume, and she was ready to go and search out Eliot, knowing that the sooner this was over the better. She had to be honest with him about her mother, for which she had permission now that they were to be family.
As expected, he was in his office at the family’s flagship hotel. He wasn’t expecting her, but the pleasure on his face when he saw her walk in warmed her aching spirit.
‘Hello, Eliot. I hope I’m not disturbing you,’ she apologised, closing the door behind her and advancing into the wood-panelled office.
He met her halfway. ‘You have my permission to disturb me any time you like, sweetheart. I’m always happy to see you, you know that. God, you look so beautiful, I’m just going to have to kiss you!’ he declared, and proceeded to do just that. Reba returned the kiss more warmly than she ever had, making a statement he wasn’t sure he understood, from the way he frowned down at her when he raised his head again. ‘Reba?’
She laughed, but it was off-key. ‘Yes, Eliot. I came home early to give you my answer, and the answer is yes, I will marry you.’
Uncertainty turned to joy, and he swept her back into his arms, hugging her almost breathless. ‘You’ll never regret it, sweetheart, never. I know you don’t love me, but you will. I’m going to love you so much that you won’t be able to help yourself!’
Reba’s hands clutched at the fine material of his jacket, laughing a little desperately as her eyes misted. ‘Oh yes, Eliot, do that! And I promise I’ll make you a good wife. We’ll be happy, won’t we?’ It was a cry from the depths of her despairing heart.
‘Ecstatically happy,’ he agreed as he released her and, with the eagerness of a small boy, crossed to his desk and buzzed his secretary. ‘Hilary, get them to send up a bottle of the finest champagne and two glasses, will you? And while you’re about it, ring my jeweller and have them bring round a selection of engagement-rings. Reba has just agreed to marry me.’
Reba didn’t hear what Hilary said, but it obviously pleased Eliot, for he laughed and rubbed his hands. Shaking his head and grinning, he stood and stared at her as if unable to believe his luck.
‘You realise she’ll spread it all around the building?’ she said wryly. It was done now, a fact, and soon everyone would know. There was no turning back.
‘Who cares? I’m the happiest man alive right now, and I want everyone to know it!’ he declared, then sobered a little. ‘Come to think of it, I’d better tell my family soon. There will be hell to pay if they hear it through the jungle-drums first. What about your family? You can ring them from here if you like.’
This was the awkward moment Reba had been anticipating, and she licked her lips, rubbing her hands along her skirt nervously. ‘They already know. I had to go home to England first, because my mother was taken ill.’
Eliot was by her side in a second, urging her towards a leather couch and sitting down beside her. ‘Nothing serious, I hope?’

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