The Heat of the Night. Amy Andrews

need that. She told us she needed some time alone and a smart man would just let her do it. And probably after that she needs you to shut your mouth and just hug her.’

      Jonah nodded. ‘Give her some space, man. I wouldn’t add insult to injury if I were you.’

      Luke knew it was good advice. But he couldn’t bear the fact that she was upstairs all alone crying because of the things he’d said. Claudia wasn’t a crier—never had been. She was bouncy and cheery and peppy.

      She was a ray of freaking sunshine.

      And he’d made her cry. He was responsible for her tears.

      Luke shook his head. ‘Nope, sorry, can’t.’

      And then he was gone and four sets of eyes watched him bound up the stairs following in Claudia’s footsteps.

      Avery sighed. ‘And I thought he was smart.’

      Jonah slid a hand onto Avery’s shoulder and squeezed as he pulled her gently back against his chest. ‘Even smart men can be stupid where women are concerned.’

      She smiled and slid her hand over the top of his. ‘That’s true. You were pretty dumb.’

      Jonah chuckled and dropped a kiss on her temple.

      ‘That’s not going to end well, is it?’ Cyrus asked his sister, agog that anyone would go against Claudia’s express wishes.

      Isis shook her head. ‘His funeral.’

      * * *

      Luke’s feet took him without conscious thought to the door of the Copacabana Suite, the room where Claudia had lived with her parents since she was six years old. He and his parents had lived next door in the Mai Tai Suite. He hesitated before he knocked—maybe she didn’t reside here any more? Maybe she’d downgraded now her parents had moved on? It wasn’t as if a single woman needed a massive two-bedroom suite.

      But the thought was only fleeting. Claudia Davis was as sentimental as they came. No way would she have passed up the nostalgia of her childhood home. Or the view from the balcony.

      He knocked. No answer.

      He knocked again. Louder. Still no answer.

      ‘Claude, I know you’re in there. Open up.’

      No answer.

      ‘I can stand out here all day and knock,’ he warned, even if the thought made him weary to his bones. ‘Hell, I can just sit down here and wait for you to come out. You’re going to have to eventually. But I’m not going back to England. I’m not going anywhere for a week so you might as well get used to it.’

      Still no answer. The door remained stubbornly closed. Luke sighed and slid down the door, propping his back against the dark grain wood. He was too bloody tired to stand upright. Despite the luxury of business class he hadn’t slept much on the plane—worry about the resort, about Claudia had unfortunately kept sleep at bay.

      Luke rubbed his eyes and scrubbed at his face with his hands. He could hear the faint rasp of stubble already fighting back against the quick shave he’d managed in the restroom aboard the plane. He was used to keeping it ruthlessly smooth, and it bothered him—he really should do something about that.

      After a shower. And a sleep.

      In fact his whole appearance bothered him. His sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his top three buttons were undone, his expensive business shirt felt sticky against his sweaty chest and his bare feet were still coated with traces of sand.

      Luke prided himself on his appearance. He believed it had a lot to do with his success. If you looked professional clients were more likely to part with their money.

      He rapped again on the door, his knuckles connecting with the wood just above his shoulder. ‘Claude.’

      Still no answer.

      Luke looked back at his feet and rubbed his toes together to displace the sand. A fine sprinkling of gritty powder dusted the thinning, aged carpet with its palm-tree print that had graced this hallway for as long as he could remember.

      As a kid roaming around the resort he’d never been without sand between his toes. He’d rarely even noticed it, for ever being chided by his mother for tracking it into the suite. He’d loved it back then.

      But like everything else today, it bugged him and he leaned down with his fingers to brush it all off. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he rubbed his hands together to remove the last trace of sand before quickly answering the text.

      A pair of work boots filled his vision as he hit send and he glanced up to find Jonah looking down at him dangling a key—yes, they still had real bona fide keys at the Tropicana, of course—from his fingers.

      ‘This might help,’ Jonah said. ‘And if you tell Avery I gave it to you I will deny everything.’

      Luke put the phone away and took Jonah’s offering. It was the keys to the Mai Tai. He smiled. ‘Thank you.’

      Jonah and Luke had been friends a long time so when he reached out a hand Luke grabbed hold gratefully and let Jonah haul him to his feet. ‘Don’t screw it up,’ Jonah warned before retreating.

      Luke made his way next door and slid the key into the lock. For twenty years the Davis family and the Hargreaves family had not only run the resort but lived right next door to each other. Somehow, miraculously, they’d made it through twenty years in business together and still come out as friends. Even choosing to take their trip of a lifetime together.

      Luke stepped inside the suite, which looked more worn and shabby around the edges than ever. A familiar smell of old carpet, starched linen and the hibiscus air freshener that was synonymous with his childhood embraced him. He’d grown to hate that smell as his desperation to see the big wide world had grown more intense, but today it was soothing to ragged nerve endings.

      He must be tired.

      He glanced at the big king-sized bed covered in its colourful Hawaiian-style bedspread and was surprised by the overwhelming desire to leave Claudia alone as she’d requested and get some much-needed sleep. Tackle her when he could count on more than two functioning brain cells. But that solitary tear played in slow motion through his head and he placed temptation firmly behind him as he stalked to the connecting door.

      A long-forgotten memory made Luke hesitate before sliding the key into the lock. When their parents had run the resort, the door was never locked. In fact it was usually left chocked open. On a hunch, he just reached for the handle.

      The knob turned and the door opened.

      And there, dead ahead, on a matching king-sized bed, lay Claudia, all curled up and very definitely bawling her eyes out. She was crying so hard and so loud, he didn’t think she’d even heard the door swing open.

      Hell, it sounded as if she were crying for Australia and going for gold.

      Another spike of guilt drove a stake right between his eyes. Crap. He hesitated before he crossed the threshold into her room but what the hell? He’d come this far.

      The curtains that matched the bedspread were pulled back and the balcony doors were thrown wide, admitting the magnificent tropical view. A cool ocean breeze tickled at the open neck of his shirt as he tentatively edged inside, and felt heavenly against his sweaty skin.

      ‘Claude?’

      Claudia almost leapt out of her skin as Luke’s deep, rich voice reached straight into the middle of her misery and yanked her out by the roots of her hair. She sat abruptly, her tears temporarily forgotten.

      ‘Jeez,’ she said, her hand clutched to her rocketing heart, ‘are you trying to scare me half to death?’

      Luke stalled where he was, holding up his hands at the frightening sight of a puffy-eyed, wild-looking Claudia. Her hair was half in, half out of her ponytail, the loose bits clumped together into some kind of bird-nest-like creation, her