A Dangerous Taste Of Passion. Anne Mather

with a little butter and lemon?’ And when this aroused no apparent interest, ‘Or a salad? Luella has got some shellfish, fresh off the boat this morning.’ She touched her fingers to her lips. ‘You would love them.’

      Rafe grinned, sliding his arms out of his jacket and hooking it over one shoulder. ‘You don’t give up, do you, Carla?’ He strolled towards her. ‘Okay. I’ll have a salad. But tell Luella no mayonnaise, me oye?’

      Carla’s response was indicative of what she thought of his decision. But, apart from checking with him whether he wanted to eat outdoors or in, she’d learned to keep her opinions to herself.

      ‘Outdoors, I think,’ Rafe decided, following her into the house. He grimaced. ‘God, it’s cold in here!’

      Carla shrugged. ‘Mr Bellamy likes it that way,’ she said smugly, hurrying away before her employer could take her up on it.

      Rafe tossed his jacket onto a chair in the glass-walled entry and then walked on into a huge reception hall. The floor was Italian-tiled, with a central table overflowing with orchids and lilies. Beyond, a curving stone staircase led to the upper gallery, where all the main bedroom suites were situated.

      Rafe’s study was in the wing to his left. He was heading in that direction when Steve’s voice arrested him. ‘Hey, Mr Oliveira,’ he called, striding towards Rafe from the direction of the kitchen. ‘Got a minute?’

      Rafe gave a resigned gesture, turning to rest his shoulders against one of the stone columns that supported the ceiling. ‘Do I have a choice?’

      Steve pulled a wry face. A tall, well-built man, a few years older than his employer, he had the kind of face that Rafe thought anyone would trust. ‘You always have a choice,’ he said now, rumpling his greying hair. ‘I only wanted to tell you, you had a visitor while you were in town.’

      Rafe surveyed the man curiously. He’d known Bellamy for over two years now, and he knew he wasn’t the kind of guy to get upset over nothing. ‘A visitor?’ he said, frowning at Steve’s doubtful expression. ‘Grant Mathews, no?’

      ‘Close. But I get the feeling Mr Mathews is still licking his wounds from his trip to Las Vegas. I did hear he is short of cash.’

      ‘Men like Mathews are not short of cash for long, Steve,’ retorted Rafe flatly. ‘Having a cash-flow problem is their usual excuse. You will see, in about six months he will be desperate to buy this house and the land back again.’

      Steve’s brows rose. ‘And will you let him?’

      Rafe shrugged. ‘That depends.’

      ‘Depends on what?’

      ‘On whether I like living here,’ replied Rafe carelessly. ‘Do not get too comfortable, Steve. I may find island life is not for me.’

      Steve stared at him hard, as if he was trying to see if his employer was serious, but Rafe was getting impatient. ‘The visitor,’ he prompted, causing the older man to do a double-take. ‘You said we had had a visitor. If it was not Grant Mathews, who was it?’

      ‘His daughter,’ said Steve at once, and Rafe stared at him now, trying to come to terms with what he’d heard.

      ‘His daughter?’ he echoed. ‘I didn’t know he had a daughter. What’s her name? How old is she?’

      ‘Does that matter?’ Steve’s tone was dry. ‘In her twenties, I’d guess. Her name’s Laura. Apparently she and her mother used to live on the island—in this house actually—until her mother remarried and Laura went away to college.’

      ‘I see.’ Rafe contemplated what he’d heard. ‘Did she say what she wanted?’

      ‘No.’ Steve was laconic. ‘But she insisted it was you she needed to see.’ He paused. ‘My opinion is that she’s come here hoping to see what you were like. Maybe her father sent her. Maybe not. She certainly seemed interested in you.’

      Amusement tugged at the corners of Rafe’s mouth. ‘Did she now?’

      Steve looked disgusted. ‘I’d have thought you’d have had enough of women who use their good looks as a weapon,’ he retorted shortly, and Rafe gave a sigh.

      ‘Oh, I have,’ he agreed flatly, patting the other man on his shoulder. ‘And thanks for the heads-up, Steve. I may just be unavailable—again—if Ms Mathews returns, no?’

      * * *

      Lily didn’t see Rafe Oliveira again for several days.

      Ray Myers returned from his trip to Miami and was somewhat ambivalent about the news that a Señor Oliveira had been looking for him.

      ‘How well do you know him?’ asked Lily, defending her curiosity on the grounds that she’d worked for Ray for a few years and usually shared his confidence.

      Indeed, it was only six months since he’d offered her a chance to invest in the business. The fact that she didn’t have that kind of money hadn’t soured their relationship. At least, she didn’t think it had.

      ‘We’ve met,’ said Ray carelessly now, sitting down at the computer and attempting to turn up the database detailing any charters that had come in since he’d been away. ‘I see the Ariadne got back okay.’

      ‘Why wouldn’t it?’ Lily was offhand, but she was hurt that Ray was shutting her out. ‘Oh, and by the way, Dave says the engines in the Santa Lucia need overhauling. If you want him to do it, you’d better give him a ring.’

      Ray glanced up at her. ‘I will. Maybe in the next couple of weeks.’

      ‘You might have to take the Lucia out of service before then. We’ve got a group—’

      ‘Oh, yeah, yeah.’ Ray interrupted her as his memory kicked in. ‘You mean that fishing party from Boston.’ He shrugged. ‘I wonder if we can get away with leaving it until after their booking. What do you think?’

      Lily shrugged without answering him. At any other time she’d have given her opinion, but it wasn’t her responsibility, after all. If Ray chose to take chances with his licence, that was his affair. But she couldn’t help thinking that in his place she’d have taken the safer option.

      Ray scowled, but then, evidently deciding it would be wise not to push it, he said, ‘I suppose you know Laura Mathews is back on the island?’

      ‘Laura?’ Lily was surprised.

      Laura Mathews had been a close friend before they’d each gone their separate ways: Laura to New York, to work in an advertising agency, and Lily to university in Florida.

      ‘No, I haven’t heard from her.’

      Of course, recently there’d been talk about Laura’s father losing a lot of money at the tables in Las Vegas. Once the richest man on Orchid Cay, these days Dee-Dee said he was struggling to survive due to the downturn in the market. And it was rumoured that he was only living there on borrowed time.

      Certainly he’d had to sell some property. As witness, the house at Orchid Point, Lily mused with some reluctance.

      Years ago, Laura and her mother had lived in the villa that Rafe Oliveira now owned. Laura’s parents had separated when she was a child, and since then Grant Mathews had occupied the plantation house alone.

      Ray shrugged. ‘I heard she’s been back a few days,’ he said, and Lily gave a shrug.

      ‘Perhaps she’s come back to comfort her father,’ she remarked casually. Although her memory of the other girl said the opposite.

      ‘Anyway, get on to Dave Tapply and tell him I’d like the Lucia’s engines overhauled, but not until after next week,’ Ray said now. Then, getting tired of trying to find the information he was looking for, he got up from Lily’s desk. ‘Print me out a copy of the current financial statement, would you? I’m no good with computers.’

      Lily