Island of Secrets. Robyn Donald

Land Rover, he commented, ‘You need better packaging.’

      She knew that. Though what made him an expert on packaging skincare products? ‘That’s all I can afford right now,’ she said evenly, turning to take the track that led to Tom’s house.

      ‘You haven’t considered getting a partner?’

      ‘No.’

      He said nothing, but she sensed his examination of her set profile as she negotiated the ruts. When she pulled up at the house he asked, ‘And your reason?’

      ‘I want to retain control,’ she told him, switching off the engine and turning to meet his gaze with more than a hint of defiance.

      His dark brows lifted, but he said, ‘Fair enough. However, unless you’re happy with your present turnover—’ his tone indicated he considered that likely to be peanuts ‘—you’re going to have to bite that bullet eventually.’

      ‘Right now, I’m happy with the way things are going,’ she told him, a steely note beneath her words.

      When Tom had suggested exactly the same thing she’d refused his offer of a further loan without any of the odd sensation of dread that assailed her now.

      Luc’s kiss had changed things in a fundamental way she didn’t want to face. His hooded eyes, the autocratic features that revealed no emotion and the taut line of his sensuous mouth—all combined to lift the hairs on her skin in a primitive display of awareness. He looked at her as though she was prey.

      And that was ridiculous! He’d taken over Tom’s huge empire, and had built it up even further. He was accustomed to organising and managing world-spanning enterprises. He wasn’t interested in her piddling little business.

      Or her, she thought, feeling slightly sick. There had been something about that kiss—something assessing, as though he’d been testing her reactions …

      And, like a weak idiot, she’d gone up in flames for him. So now, of course, he’d be completely convinced that Sean’s insulting accusation was the truth.

      Well, she didn’t care. Neither Sean nor Luc meant anything to her, and anyway, Luc would be gone as soon as he’d organised the sale of the house.

      She said, ‘I have no illusions about how far I can go.’

      Without moving, he said, ‘It sounds as though you’re planning to stay in Rotumea for the rest of your life.’

      She shrugged. ‘Why not? Can you think of a better place to live?’

      ‘Dreaming your days away in paradise?’ he asked contemptuously.