Love Islands: Red-Hot Sunsets

She hoped that he’d been telling the truth when he’d said that there would be no interaction between them because she couldn’t think that they would have anything to talk about.

Then Katy thought about seeing him away from the confines of office walls. Something inside trembled and she had that whooshing feeling again, as if she had been sitting quietly on a chair, only to find that the chair was attached to a rollercoaster and the switch had suddenly been turned on. Her tummy flipped over; she didn’t get it, because she really and truly didn’t like the guy.

She surfaced from her thoughts to find that they had left the main roads behind and were pulling into a huge parking lot where a long, covered building opened onto an air field.

‘I give you Lucas’s transport...’ Vicky murmured. ‘If you look to the right, you’ll see his private jet. It’s the black one. But today you’ll be taking the helicopter.’

Jet? Helicopter?

Katy did a double-take. Her eyes swivelled from private jet to helicopter and, sure enough, there he was, leaning indolently against a black and silver helicopter, dark shades shielding his eyes from the early-afternoon glare.

Her mouth ran dry. He was watching her from behind those shades. Her breathing picked up and her heart began to beat fast as she wondered what the heck she had got herself into, and all because she had stumbled across information she didn’t even care about.

She didn’t have time to dwell on the quicksand gathering at her feet, however, because with the sort of efficiency that spoke of experience the driver was pulling the car to a stop and she was being offloaded, the driver hurrying towards the helicopter with her bag just as the rotary blades of the aircraft began to whop, whop, whop in preparation for taking off, sending a whirlwind of flying dust beneath it.

Lucas had vanished into the helicopter.

Katy wished that she could vanish to the other side of the world.

She was harried, panic-stricken and grubby, because she hadn’t had a chance to shower, and her jeans and shirt were sticking to her like glue. When she’d spoken to her mother on the phone, under the eagle eye of Vicky, she had waffled on with some lame excuse about being whipped off to a country house to do an important job, where the reception might be a bit dodgy, so they weren’t to worry if contact was sporadic. She had made it sound like an exciting adventure because her parents were prone to worrying about her.

She hadn’t thought that she really would end up being whipped off to anywhere.

She had envisaged a laborious drive to a poky holding pen in the middle of nowhere, with Internet access cruelly denied her. She hadn’t believed him when he had told her to the contrary, and she certainly had not been able to get her head around any concept of an unplanned holiday unless you could call incarceration a holiday.

She was floored by what seemed to be a far bigger than average helicopter, but she was still scowling as she battled against the downdraft from the blades to climb aboard.

Lucas had to shout to be heard. As the small craft spun up, up and away, he called out, ‘Small bag, Miss Brennan. Where have you stashed the books, the sketch pads and the tin of paints?’

Katy gritted her pearly teeth together but didn’t say anything, and he laughed, eyebrows raised.

‘Or did you decide to go down the route of being a good little martyr while being held in captivity against your will? No books...no sketch pads...no tin of paints...and just the slightest temptation to stage a hunger strike to prove a point?’

Clenched fists joined gritted teeth and she glared at him, but he had already looked away and was flicking through the papers on his lap. He only glanced up when, leaning forward and voice raised to be heard above the din, she said, ‘Where are you taking me?’

Aggravatingly seeming to read her mind, privy to every dark leap of imagination that had whirled through her head in a series of colourful images, Lucas replied, ‘I’m sure that you’ve already conjured up dire destinations. So, instead of telling you, I’ll leave you to carry on with your fictitious scenarios because I suspect that where you subsequently end up can only be better than what you’ve wasted your time imagining. But to set your mind at rest...’

He patted the pocket of the linen jacket which was dumped on the seat next to him. ‘Your mobile phone is safe and sound right there. As soon as we land, you can tell me your password so that I can check every so often: make sure there are no urgent messages from the parents you’re in the habit of calling on a daily basis...’

‘Or from a married ex-boyfriend?’ She couldn’t resist prodding the sleeping tiger and he gave her a long, cool look from under the dark fringe of his lashes.

‘Or from a married ex-boyfriend,’ he drawled. ‘Always pays to be careful, in my opinion. Now why don’t you let me work and why don’t you...enjoy the ride?’

CHAPTER THREE

THE RIDE PROBABLY TOOK HOURS, and felt even longer, with Katy doing her best to pretend that Lucas wasn’t sitting within touching distance. When the helicopter began descending, swinging in a loop as it got lower, all she could see was the broad expanse of blue ocean.

Panicked and bewildered, she gazed at Lucas, who hadn’t looked up from his papers and, when eventually he did, he certainly didn’t glance in her direction.

After a brief hovering, the helicopter delicately landed and then she could see what she had earlier missed.

This wasn’t a shabby holding pen.

Lucas was unclicking himself from his seat belt and then he patiently waited for her to do the same. This was all in a day’s work for him. He turned to talk to the pilot, a low, clipped, polite exchange of words, then he stood back to allow her through the door and onto the super-yacht on which the helicopter had landed.

It was much, much warmer here and the dying rays of the sun revealed that the yacht was anchored at some distance from land. No intrusive boats huddled anywhere near it. She was standing on a yacht that was almost big enough to be classified as a small liner—sleek, sharp and so impressive that every single left wing thought about money not mattering was temporarily wiped away under a tidal wave of shameless awe.

The dark bank of land rose in the distance, revealing just some pinpricks of light peeping out between the trees and dense foliage that climbed up the side of the island’s incline.

She found herself following Lucas as behind them the helicopter swung away and the deafening roar of the rotary blades faded into an ever-diminishing wasp-like whine. And then she couldn’t hear it at all because they had left the helipad on the upper deck of the yacht and were moving inside.

‘How does it feel to be a prisoner held against your will in a shabby cell?’ Lucas drawled, not looking at her at all but heading straight through a vast expanse of polished wood and expensive cream leather furniture. A short, plump lady was hurrying to meet them, her face wreathed in smiles, and they spoke in rapid Italian.

Katy was dimly aware of being introduced to the woman, who was Signora Maria, the resident chef when on board.

Frankly, all she could take in was the breath-taking, obscene splendour of her surroundings. She was on board a billionaire’s toy and, in a way, it made her feel more nervous and jumpy than if she had been dumped in that holding pen she had created in her fevered, over-imaginative head.

She’d known the guy was rich but when you were as rich as this, rich enough to own a yacht of this calibre, then you could do whatever you wanted.

When he’d threatened her with legal proceedings, it hadn’t been an empty threat.

Katy decided that she wasn’t going to let herself be cowed by this display. She wasn’t guilty of anything and she wasn’t going to be treated like a criminal because Lucas Cipriani was suspicious by nature.

She had always been encouraged by her parents to speak her mind and she wasn’t going to be turned into a rag doll because she was overwhelmed by her surroundings.

‘Maria will show you to your suite.’ He turned to her, his dark eyes roving up and down her body without expression. ‘In it you will find everything you need, including an en suite bathroom. You’ll be pleased to hear that there is no lock on the outside of your room, so you’re free to come and go at will.’

‘There’s no need to be sarcastic,’ Katy told him, mouth set in a sullen line. Her eyes flicked to him and skittered away just as fast before they could dwell for too long on the dark, dramatic beauty of his lean face because, once there, it was stupidly hard to tear her gaze away.

‘Correction—there’s every need to be sarcastic after you’ve bandied around terms such as kidnapped. I told you that you should look on the bright side and see this as a fully paid two-week vacation.’ He dismissed Maria with a brief nod, because this looked as though it was shaping up to be another one of those conversations, then he shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at her. She looked irritatingly unrepentant. ‘In the absence of your books, you’ll find that there is a private home cinema space with a comprehensive selection of movies. There are also two swimming pools—one indoor, one on the upper deck. And of course a library, should you decide that reading is a worthwhile option in the absence of your computer.’

‘You’re not very nice, are you?’

‘Nice people finish last so, yes, that’s an accolade I’ve been more than happy to pass up, which is something you’d do well to remember.’

Katy’s eyes narrowed at the bitterness in his voice. Was he speaking from experience? What experience? She didn’t want to be curious about him, but she suddenly was. Just for a moment, she realised that underneath the ruthless, cool veneer there would be all sorts of reasons for him being the man he was.

‘Nice people don’t always finish last,’ she murmured sincerely.

‘Oh, but they do.’ Lucas’s voice was cool and he was staring at her, his head at an angle, as if examining something weird he wasn’t quite sure about. ‘They get wrapped up in pointless sentimentality and emotion and open themselves up to getting exploited, so please don’t think I’ll be falling victim to that trait while we’re out here.’

‘Get exploited?’ Katy found that she was holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

‘Is that the sound of a woman trying to find out what makes me tick?’ Lucas raised his eyebrows with wry amusement and began walking. ‘Many have tried and failed in that venture, so I shouldn’t bother if I were you.’

‘It’s very arrogant of you to assume that I want to find out about you,’ Katy huffed. ‘But, as you’ve reminded me, we’re going to be stuck here together for the next two weeks. I was just trying to have a conversation.’

‘Like I said, I don’t intend to be around much. When we do converse, we can keep it light.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She sighed, reaching to loop her long hair over one shoulder. ‘Believe it or not, I can almost understand why you dragged me out here.’

‘Well, at least drag is an improvement on kidnap,’ Lucas conceded.

‘I’m hot, tired and sticky, and sitting quietly at my desk working on my computer feels like a lifetime ago. I’m not in the best of moods.’

‘I can’t picture you sitting quietly anywhere. Maybe I’ve been remiss in not getting out and seeing what my employees are doing. What do you think? Should I have left my ivory tower and had a look at which of my employees were sitting and meekly doing their jobs and which ones were pushing the envelope?’

Katy reddened. His voice was suddenly lazy and teasing and her pulses quickened in response. How could he be so ruthless and arrogant one minute and then, in a heartbeat, make the blood rush to her head because of the way he was able to laugh at himself unexpectedly?

She didn’t know whether it was because she had been yanked out of her comfort zone, but he was turning her off and on like a tap, and it unsettled her.

After Duncan, she had got her act together; she had looked for the silver lining and realised that he had pointed her in the right direction of what to look for in a man: someone down-to-earth, good-natured, genuine. Someone normal. When she found that man, everything else would fall into place, and she was horrified that a guy like Lucas Cipriani could have the sort of effect on her that he did. It didn’t make sense and she didn’t like it.

‘I think my opinion doesn’t count one way or another,’ she said lightly. ‘I can’t speak for other people, but no one in my office actually expects you to swoop down and pay a visit.’

‘You certainly know how to hit below the belt,’ Lucas imparted drily. ‘This your normal style when you’re with a man?’

‘You’re not a man.’

Lucas laughed, a rich, throaty laugh that set her senses alight and had her pulses racing. ‘Oh, no,’ he murmured seriously. ‘And here I was thinking that I was...’

‘You know what I mean.’ Rattled, Katy’s gaze slid sideways and skittered away in confusion.

‘Do I? Explain.’ This wasn’t the light conversation he had had in mind, but that wasn’t to say that he wasn’t enjoying himself, because he was. ‘If I’m not a man, then what am I?’

‘You’re...you’re my captor.’

Lucas grinned. ‘That’s a non-answer if ever there was one, but I’ll let it go. Besides, I thought we’d got past the kidnap analogy.’

Katy didn’t answer. He was being nice to her, teasing her. She knew that he still probably didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, but he was worldly wise and sophisticated, and knew the benefits of smoothing tensions and getting her onside. Constant sniping would bore him. He had been forced into a situation he hadn’t banked on, just as she had, but he wasn’t throwing temper tantrums. He wasn’t interested in having meaningful conversations, because he wasn’t interested in her and had no desire to find out anything about her, except what might impact on his business deal; but he would be civil now that he had told her in no uncertain terms what the lay of the land was. He had laughed about being called her captor, but he was, and he called the shots.

Instead of getting hot and bothered around him, she would have to step up to the plate and respond in kind.

They had reached the kitchen and she turned her attention away from him and looked around her. ‘This is wonderful.’ She ran her fingers over the counter. ‘Where is Maria, your...chef?’ She remained where she was, watching as he strolled to an over-sized fridge, one of two, and extracted a bottle of wine.

He poured them both a glass and nodded to one of the grey upholstered chairs tucked neatly under the metal kitchen table. Katy sat and sipped the wine very slowly, because she wasn’t accustomed to drinking.

‘Has her own quarters on the lower deck. I dismissed her rather than let her hang around listening to...a conversation she would have found puzzling. She might not have understood the meaning but she would have got the gist without too much trouble.’

Lucas sat opposite her. ‘It is rare for me to be on this yacht with just one other person. It’s generally used for client entertaining and occasionally for social gatherings. Under normal circumstances, there would be more than just one member of staff present, but there seemed little need to have an abundance of crew for two people. So, while we’re here, Maria will clean and prepare meals.’

‘Does she know why I’m here?’

‘Why would she?’ Lucas sounded genuinely surprised. ‘It’s none of her business. She’s paid handsomely to do a job, no questions asked.’

‘But wouldn’t she be curious?’ Katy couldn’t help asking.

Lucas shrugged. ‘Do I care?’

‘You might not care,’ she said tartly. ‘But maybe I do. I don’t want her thinking that I’m... I’m...’

‘What?’

‘I wouldn’t want her thinking that I’m one of your women you’ve brought here to have a bit of fun with.’

Lucas burst out laughing. When he’d sobered up, he stared at her coolly.

‘Why does it matter to you what my chef thinks of you? You’ll never lay eyes on her again once this two-week stint is over. Besides...’ he sipped his wine and looked at her over the rim of his glass ‘...I often fly Maria over to my place in London and occasionally to New York. She has seen enough of my women over the years to know that you don’t fit the mould.’

Katy stared at him, mortified and embarrassed, because somehow she had ended up giving him the impression that...what? That she thought he might fancy her? That she thought her precious virtue might be compromised by being alone with him on this yacht, when she was only here because of circumstances? The surroundings were luxurious but this wasn’t a five-star hotel with the man of her dreams. This was a prison in all but name and he was her gaoler...and since when did gaolers fancy their captives?

‘Don’t fit the mould?’ she heard herself parrot in a jerky voice, and Lucas appeared to give that some consideration before nodding.

‘Maria has been with me for a very long time,’ he said without a shade of discomfort. ‘She’s met many of my women over the years. I won’t deny that you have a certain appeal, but you’re not my type, and she’s savvy enough to know that. Whatever she thinks, it won’t be that you’re here for any reasons other than work. Indeed, I have occasionally used this as a work space with colleagues when I’ve needed extreme privacy in my transactions, so I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she puts that spin on your presence here.’ He tried and failed to think of the woman sitting opposite him in the capacity of work colleague.

You have a certain appeal. Katy’s brain had clunked to a stop at that throwaway remark and was refusing to budge. Why did it make her feel so flustered; hadn’t she, two seconds ago, resolved not to let him get to her? She wanted to be as composed and collected as he was but she was all over the place.

Why was that? Was it the unsettling circumstances that had thrown them together? Lucas was sexy and powerful, but he was still just a man, and male attention, in the wake of Duncan, left her cold. So why did half a sentence from a man who wasn’t interested in her make her skin prickle and tingle?

She forced her brain to take a few steps forward and said faintly, ‘I didn’t realise men had a type.’ Which wasn’t what she had really wanted to say. What she had really wanted to say was ‘what’s your type?’

Rich men were always in the tabloids with women dripping from their arms and clinging to them like limpets. Rich men led lives that were always under the microscope, because the public loved reading about the lifestyles of the rich and famous, but she couldn’t recall ever having seen Lucas Cipriani in any scandal sheets.

‘All men have a type,’ Lucas informed her. He had a type and he was clever enough to know why he had that particular type. As far as he was concerned, knowledge in that particular area was power. He would never fall victim to the type of manipulative women that his father had. He would always be in control of his emotional destiny. He had never had this sort of conversation with a woman in his life before, but then again his association with women ran along two tracks and only two. Either there was a sexual connection or else they were work associates.

Katy was neither. Yes, she worked for him, but she was not his equal in any way, shape or form.

And there was certainly no sexual connection there.

On cue, he gazed away from her face to the small jut of her breasts and the slender fragility of her arms. She really was tiny. A strong wind would knock her off her feet. She was the sort of woman that men instinctively felt the need to protect.

It seemed as good a time as any to remember just the sort of women he went for and, he told himself, keeping in the practical vein, to tell her, because, work or no work, aside from his chef there were only the two of them on board his yacht and he didn’t want her to start getting any ideas.

She was a nobody suddenly plunged into a world of extreme luxury. He’d had sufficient experience over the years with women whose brains became scrambled in the presence of wealth.

‘Here’s my type,’ he murmured, refilling both their glasses and leaning towards her, noting the way she reflexively edged back, amused by it. ‘I don’t do clingy. I don’t do gold-diggers, airheads or any women who think that they can simper and preen their way to my bank balance—but, more than that, I don’t care for women who demand more than I am capable of giving them. I lead an extremely pressurised working life. When it comes to my private life, I like women to be soothing and compliant. I enjoy the company of high fliers, career women whose independence matches my own. They know the rules of my game and there are never any unpleasant misunderstandings.’

He thought of the last woman in his life, a raven-haired beauty who was a leading light in the field of international law. In the end their mutually busy schedules had put paid to anything more than a six-month dalliance although, in fairness, he hadn’t wanted more. Even the most highly intelligent and ferociously independent woman had a sell-by date in his life.

Katy was trying to imagine these high-flying, saintly paragons who didn’t demand and who were also soothing and compliant. ‘What would constitute them demanding more than you’re capable of giving them?’ she asked impulsively and Lucas frowned.

‘Come again?’

‘You said that you didn’t like women who demanded more than you were capable of giving them. Do you mean love and commitment?’

‘Nicely put,’ Lucas drawled. ‘Those two things are off the agenda. An intellectually challenging relationship—with, of course, ample doses of fun—is what I look for and, fortunately, the women I go out with are happy with the arrangement.’

‘How do you know?’

‘How do I know what?’

‘That they’re happy. Maybe they really want more but they’re too scared to say that because you tell them that you don’t want a committed relationship.’

‘Maybe. Who knows? We’re getting into another one of those deep and meaningful conversations again.’ He stood up and stretched, flexing muscles that rippled under his hand-tailored clothes. ‘I’ve told you this,’ he said, leaning down, hands planted squarely on the table, ‘Because we’re here and I wouldn’t want any wow moments to go to your head.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You’re here because I need to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t do anything that could jeopardise a deal I’ve been working on for the past year and a half,’ he said bluntly, although his voice wasn’t unkind. He was unwillingly fascinated by the way her face could transmit what she was thinking, like a shining beacon advertising the lay of the land. ‘I know you’re out of your comfort zone but I wouldn’t want you to get any ideas.’

Comprehension came in an angry rush...although, a little voice whispered treacherously in her head, hadn’t she been looking at him? Had he spotted that and decided to nip any awkwardness in the bud by putting down ‘no trespass’ signs? She wasn’t his type and he was gently but firmly telling her not to start thinking that she might be. ‘You’re right.’ Katy sat back and folded her arms. ‘I am out of my comfort zone and I am impressed. Who wouldn’t be? But it takes more than a big boat with lots of fancy gadgets to suddenly turn its owner into someone I could ever be attracted to.’

‘Is that a fact?’

‘Yes, it is. I know my place and I’m perfectly happy there. You asked me why do I continue to work in a school? Because I enjoy giving back. I only work for your company, Mr Cipriani, because the pay enables me to afford my rent. If I could somehow be paid more as a teacher, then I would ditch your job in a heartbeat.’ Katy thought that, at the rate she was going, she wouldn’t have to ditch his job because it would be ditching her. ‘You don’t have to warn me off you and you don’t have to be afraid that I’m going to start suddenly wanting to have a big boat like this of my own...’

‘For goodness’ sake, it’s a yacht, not a boat.’ And the guy who had overseen its unique construction and charged mightily for the privilege would be incandescent at her condescending referral to it as a boat. Although, Lucas thought, his lips twitching as he fought off a grin, it would certainly be worth seeing. The man, if memory served him right, had embodied all the worst traits of someone happy to suck up to the rich while stamping down hard on the poor.

Katy shrugged. ‘You know what I mean. At any rate, Mr Cipriani, you don’t want to be stuck here with me and I don’t want to be stuck here with you either.’

‘Lucas.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I think it’s appropriate that we move onto first names. The name is Lucas.’

Flustered, Katy stared at him. ‘I wouldn’t feel right calling you by your first name,’ she muttered, bright red. ‘You’re my boss.’

‘I’ll break the ice. Are you hungry, Katy? Maria will have prepared food and she will be unreasonably insulted if we don’t eat what she has cooked. I’ll call her up to serve us, after which she’ll show you to your quarters.’

‘Call her up?’

‘The food won’t magically appear on our plates.’

‘I don’t feel comfortable being waited on as though I’m royalty,’ Katy told him honestly. ‘If you direct me, I’m sure I can do whatever needs doing.’

‘You’re not the hired help, Katy.’

Katy shivered at the use of her name. It felt...intimate. She resolved to avoid calling him by his name unless absolutely necessary: perhaps if she fell overboard and was in the process of drowning. Even then she knew she would be tempted to stick to Mr Cipriani.

‘That’s not the point.’ She stood up and looked at him, waiting to be directed, then she realised that he genuinely had no idea in which direction he should point her. She clicked her tongue and began rustling through the drawers, being nosy in the fridge before finding casserole dishes in the oven.

She could feel his dark, watchful eyes following her every movement, but she was relieved that he hadn’t decided to fetch Maria, because this was taking away some of her jitters. Instead of sitting in front of him, perspiring with nerves and with nowhere to rest her eyes except on him, which was the least restful place they could ever land, busying herself like this at least occupied her, and it gave her time to get her thoughts together and forgive herself for behaving out of character.

It was understandable. Twenty-four hours ago, she’d been doing her job and going through all the usual daily routines. Suddenly she’d been thrown blindfolded into the deep end of a swimming pool and it was only natural for her to flounder before she found her footing.

She could learn something from this because, after Duncan, being kind to herself had come hard. She had blamed herself for her misjudgements. How could she have gone so wrong when she had spent a lifetime being so careful and knowing just what she wanted? She had spent months beating herself up for her mistake in not spotting the kind of man he had been. She had been raised by two loving parents who had instilled the right values in her, so how had she been sucked into a relationship with a man who had no values at all?

So here she was, acting out of character and going all hot and cold in the company of a man she had just met five seconds ago. It didn’t mean anything and she wasn’t going to beat herself up over it. There was nothing wrong with her. It was all a very natural reaction to unforeseen circumstances.

Watching her, Lucas thought that this was just the sort of domestic scene he had spent a lifetime avoiding. He also thought that, despite what he had said about his high-flying career women wanting no more than he was willing to give them, many of them had tentatively broached the subject of a relationship that would be more than simply a series of fun one-night stands. He had always shot those makings of uncomfortable conversations down in flames. But looking at the way Katy was pottering in this kitchen, making herself at home, he fancied that many an ex would have been thrilled to do the same.

‘I like cooking,’ she told him, bringing the food to the table and guilt-tripping him into giving her a hand because, as he had pointed out with spot-on accuracy, she wasn’t the hired help. ‘It’s not just because it feels wrong to summon Maria here to do what I could easily do, but I honestly enjoy playing around with food. This smells wonderful. Is she a qualified chef?’

‘She’s an experienced one,’ Lucas murmured.

‘Tell me where we’re anchored,’ Katy encouraged. ‘I noticed an island. How big is it? Do you have a house there?’

‘The island is big enough for essentials and, although there is some tourism, it’s very exclusive, which is the beauty of the place. And, yes, I have a villa there. In fact, I had planned on spending a little time there on my own, working flat-out on finalising my deal without interruptions, but plans changed.’

He didn’t dwell on that. He talked, instead, about the island and then, as soon as he was finished eating, he stood up and took his plate to the sink. Katy followed his lead, noticing that his little foray into domesticity didn’t last long, because he remained by the sink, leaning against it with his arms folded. She couldn’t help but be amused. Just like the perplexed frown when he had first entered the kitchen, his obvious lack of interest in anything domestic was something that came across as ridiculously macho yet curiously endearing. If a man like Lucas Cipriani could ever be endearing, she thought drily.