Constantinou's Mistress by Cathy Williams Page B

bumped into Robert and me the other evening.’
    â€˜Ah. That date. Hardly seemed fair considering this is work and Marcia has an allergic reaction to work. Besides, my cousin and I took her out for a meal. Hardly what I would call a date. In fact, I should not think that I will be seeing that particular leggy brunette again.’
    â€˜Good heavens!’ Lucy felt a treacherous rush of relief as they stood up to begin disembarking the luxurious plane. ‘Don’t tell me she had the audacity to make a nuisance of herself!’ This was more like it, she thought. He went out with glamorous models and she watched in seemingly amused cynicism from the outside.
    She bent to retrieve her handbag from where it had slipped in the foot well and straightened to find herself staring at the broad, muscular expanse of his chest.
    â€˜Actually,’ he said softly, not moving an inch so that she was compelled to look up at him, ‘I came to the conclusion that Marcia is not my type after all.’
    â€˜You surprise me,’ Lucy said with a forced laugh and he continued to look at her with utter seriousness.
    â€˜I hope so.’ Three small words that crashed through her consciousness like boulders of lead. He could read the wariness on her face and continued, smiling, ‘I am a great believer in never being predictable.’
    Which, Lucy thought, barely noticing the details of the airport, allowing herself to be whisked along, is whyyou make the most unsuitable man in the world. Because, dull though it seems, predictability is the essence of a peaceful life.
    And peaceful lives are for people who have no sense of adventure, a little voice whispered into her ear, a voice which Lucy resolutely ignored.
    If the first leg of the trip had been quick and smooth, the second leg proved to be anything but. The airport was pleasant enough, and it was exciting to be surrounded by people of a different nationality, speaking with a different accent, but their connecting plane was delayed, and when it arrived it was so incredibly small that Lucy couldn’t help but experience a slight twinge of apprehension.
    â€˜Don’t worry,’ Nick instructed, placing a reassuring hand on the small of her back. ‘We won’t end up in the ocean surrounded by our luggage and a hundred hungry barracuda.’
    â€˜How do you know? It doesn’t look as though it could walk the distance, never mind fly.’
    He laughed, and in the gathering dusk glanced down at her fair head, fighting the urge to steady her nerves by wrapping his arms around her.
    â€˜Trust me,’ he told her.
    And, quite ludicrously, she did, even though, when pressed, he admitted that he knew not the first thing about flying and would be at a complete loss should the rickety plane begin to spiral downwards.
    There was just something about his bulk that made a mockery of her fears.
    He seemed to know precisely what to do, where to go, and his massive self-assurance meant that he was treated like royalty for the entire duration of their trip, right down to when they boarded the boat that wouldtake them to the exclusive island which was the home of the Tradewinds Hotel.
    It was dark by the time they eventually arrived. Too dark to appreciate the lush scenery, although there were enough strange noises to stir her imagination—the steady, rhythmic chirping of the crickets in the undergrowth, the occasional guttural sounds of the frogs and unidentifiable rustles as they covered the short walk from the car to the hotel that could have been any number of things.
    And it was balmy, with the merest hint of a breeze blowing up from the sea, which was a black strip behind them as they approached the hotel. The coconut trees thickly lined the narrow road, and Lucy could not get enough of the view. Through the open window of the car she could hear the rustle of the leaves and see their dark silhouettes swaying gently.
    â€˜The sand is as white and