Valerie Parv – The Princess and the Playboy (страница 2)

‘And now?’

Allie enveloped her in a hug. ‘You’re one of the sweetest, most caring people I know. Doesn’t the king realise you’re only upset about the resort plans because you care so much about this country?’

‘He cares, too,’ Talay said soberly, ‘but he lives in the capital most of the time. And Andaman is a long way from the Pearl Coast. He’s so used to going everywhere with a great entourage that he doesn’t see what I see—a simple, traditional way of life which may not survive a huge influx of tourism.’

‘I suppose you’ve pointed this out to the king?’

Talay nodded. ‘Who listens to a twenty-six-year-old jewellery designer? I’m not a politician or a member of the cabinet.’

‘But the king did entrust you with chairing the cultural advisory board for this province.’

Talay gave a disdainful sniff. ‘A paper tiger, if you ask me. They put advisory in the title for a good reason, so we don’t get to actually do anything but advise, and the advice isn’t always listened to, as in this instance.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

Talay gave a slow smile. ‘You and Michael go ahead and finalise your second honeymoon plans. I’ll find a way to let Mr Clendon know how I feel.’ As casually as she could, she added as an apparent afterthought, ‘I need somewhere quiet and private to work on some new designs. Can I use your villa while you’re away?’

CHAPTER TWO

JASE CLENDON filled his lungs with the glorious, ginger-scented air that was unique to the island kingdom of Sapphan and tried to relax. It was inconvenient of Michael Martine to be called away on business at the last minute but there wasn’t much either of them could do about it. The same thing had happened to Jase himself often enough.

It was strange of Michael to send a message, rather than calling direct. But it was decent of him to give Jase the run of the villa. As soon as he caught sight of the inviting pool, Jase changed into his swimming gear, intending to make the most of it. A swim was just what he needed to help him adjust to Sapphan time.

He was accustomed to luxury but this was on a scale unknown in Australia. The villa reminded Jase of a small palace, with ancient stone walls, a tropical garden studded with statuary and large, airy rooms with cool slate floors and walls panelled with aromatic eaglewood. The rattan furniture with its hand-printed silk coverings was as comfortable as it was beautiful. Michael had done well for himself, he thought, wandering around the casual living room which opened onto the pool area.

On a dresser stood a collection of family photographs, most of them meaning nothing to Jase. He considered Michael a friend but they gave each other a loose rein. Sometimes they were out of touch for a couple of years but when they got back together it was as if they’d never been apart.

His mouth twisted wryly. Male friendship was something women had trouble understanding. They wanted you there every minute, preferably talking or—more accurately—listening to them, or at least his former wife had. She’d never understood his need for solitude and quiet, a direct legacy of growing up in a boys’ home with dozens of other children who were never quiet.

Jase shrugged off the memory and started to turn away but his attention was caught by one photo in particular. It must be Michael’s wife, whom Jase had yet to meet, and it had been taken at some kind of graduation ceremony. It definitely wasn’t one of Michael’s photographs. For a start, unlike most of Michael’s photographs, you could actually make out the subject, which meant it was Jase’s first really good look at Michael’s wife, Allie.

Studying her, he felt his swimming trunks growing uncomfortably tight. Not only was she gorgeous, she looked out of the picture as if she owned the world. There was something—he searched for a word—regal about her.

Her dark hair fell in a satin curtain halfway down her back. She was tall for a Sapphan woman, judging by the doorframe behind her, and she had a figure like a model, tiny of waist and full...well, full everywhere else. There was also something familiar about her that he couldn’t pin down. It was probably because he’d half seen her a few times in Michael’s blurred attempts at family photography.

Jase’s grin was self-deprecating. Just as well she was married. Michael would laugh himself silly if he could see his friend, poring over a woman’s photograph like a lovesick puppy. If he wasn’t careful his reputation as a playboy would be in jeopardy and he had worked hard to create it It served him too well to drop now.

When you were as successful and wealthy as he had made himself you were fair game for every female for miles, not to mention their fathers, mothers and ugly sisters. His one experience of marriage had convinced him he was a lone wolf, better left to hunt solo. He’d need to watch himself in Sapphan if there were many women as bewitching as Allie Martine.

If she came back early from her week-long expedition to the capital, as Michael’s message had warned him she might, Jase would have to watch himself. Michael had assured him her presence wouldn’t interfere with Jase’s use of the villa, but it didn’t solve the problem of her extraordinary effect on him.

There was another problem, too. The key Michael had sent him didn’t fit the door to the guest pavilion, which he had assumed he was to use. It did fit the main house entrance so Jase had decided to move in there for the time being. If Allie came back while he was still here he would have her unlock the guest pavilion and he’d gladly move out there. Another glance at the photo in his hand warned him it might be wise to keep some distance between himself and Michael’s wife.

He took another leisurely swallow of the strongly flavoured local beer Michael favoured. Jase didn’t mind serving himself, but it was odd to be in such lavish surroundings without any servants. He shrugged inwardly. Maybe it was a Sapphanese custom to give the servants time off when the boss was away.

Outside his air-conditioned cocoon the air steamed. It was the end of the dry season and the humidity levels were starting to build. He finished the beer, returned the glass to the kitchen and threw open the wide doors leading to the pool and waterfall. After his reaction to Allie’s photo he needed to cool off more than ever. He took a running dive into the pool.

His dive cut the water cleanly, his body knifing through the deep water like a torpedo until he surfaced on the far side of the pool, slicking his hair back and gasping for breath. This beat the heck out of cold showers.

Talay heard the sounds of someone in the pool and froze. Now the moment had arrived she was tempted to turn around and flee the house before Jase Clendon discovered her presence. He had accepted without question her message, saying that Michael would be overseas when he arrived. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Allie and Michael were in Paris by now, enjoying their second honeymoon before their baby was due, Michael having also received a message saying Jase’s arrival would be delayed for a couple of weeks.

She hadn’t forged anyone’s signature. She had simply ‘forgotten’ to append any name or signature at all. In these days of faxes and e-mail messages lots of people did. It was a sin of omission, she recognised, but she was desperate enough to try anything.

There was still time to change her mind, she assured herself as she moved cautiously towards the open French doors leading to the pool area. First she would take a look at her adversary.

He wouldn’t hear her over the splashing of the waterfall, but she moved softly until she could see him without being seen. The effect was instant and electrifying. He had levered himself onto the stone rim of the pool and water streamed from muscles she had rarely seen on a male body outside the statues in her uncle’s palace.

Apart from a thin band of salmon-coloured Lycra, clinging to his narrow hips, he was naked, and his Australian tan gleamed in the Sapphanese sun. Straight arms braced wide shoulders and his posture was erect, probably from his experience as a yachtsman, she guessed. His dark hair was slicked back but looked collar-length, an unusual choice for a businessman, she considered, but somehow looked right on him. Like a buccaneer from Sapphan’s far past, or a modern-day pirate.

She sucked in a breath, feeling her heart race. As far as she was concerned, he was a pirate, as dangerous to her beloved coastline and its gentle people as any buccaneer in history. Still, with Jase filling her field of vision, it wasn’t hard to understand how, in times past, women sometimes fell in love with pirates and ran away to sea to spend their lives with them.

Then he lifted his head and shock slammed through her so hard she had to cling to the doorframe for support. Those eyes! She had never met Jase Clendon before, yet the eyes inspecting the surface of the pool looked as familiar as her own in a mirror.

It was crazy, she told herself. Beyond the photograph Allie had shown her, she knew very little about him as a person. As far as she knew, their paths had never crossed. So why was she gripped by an unshakeable sense of familiarity, as if she had chanced across a former lover instead of a complete stranger?