fortunately, so no one noticed when she got up rather abruptly to clear up; in fact everyone helped. But she was the last to go to bed, or so she thought, and was lingering in the dim, quiet, clean kitchen-lingering because she didn't trust herself to the loneliness of her chalet-when Steve came in.
From the way he raised an eyebrow she guessed he'd thought the same as she: that he was the only one up. He said quite normally, 'Still around, Davina? I'll have to start paying you overtime.'
And she was furious to discover herself pinned to the spot, her heart beating heavily with an intense longing, her body bereft and aching because his hands weren't on it, the remembered feel of his body against her like a blueprint in her mind and upon her skin.
'Something-wrong?' he said, after a long moment, his gaze narrowing and drifting down to her breasts beneath the white T-shirt she wore with blue shorts, to her long bare legs-and, to her supreme embarrassment, she started to bring her arms up to cross them in a defensive gesture that was also a dead giveaway…
'No,' she said, but her voice was hoarse as her hands sank to her sides. She cleared her throat and started to turn away. 'No, nothing. Goodnight.'
'Goodnight, Davina,' he replied, and although she couldn't identify what it was, something in the way he'd said it made her feel sure he'd known exactly what had happened to her.
She locked herself into her chalet and didn't know why. She put her hands to her face and tried to block out Steve Warwick, but it didn't work. She was tormented by so many things about him: the golden hairs on his arms and legs, the tendency to freckles and the way his dark red-brown hair grew. How it had been to lie against him in the shallows at Blinkys and feel the unmistakable response of his body to hers, the rapture and delight of being kissed by him.
She pushed herself away from the door and, to her grim amusement, went to take a cold shower while she wondered how she was going to get through one more day let alone roughly another twenty-one.
She was saved from herself the next day by Steve Warwick at his very worst. It all started when one of his charter boats, due to an error of judgement by the skipper, ran aground and had to have its passengers transferred to another boat, and be towed home.
Despite the fact that no one was really in any danger, there were other boats in the area and the rescue-boat was quickly on the scene, his anger was awesome.
And when the unfortunate skipper came to the house to make his report, Davina, who was baking a cake and biscuits, couldn't help but be in earshot as Steve explained in the coldest, most cutting terms she'd ever heard that the fact that everyone was safe meant nothing, that the potential for a disaster that could ruin not only his business but the reputation of the island as a holiday destination was what mattered… and so on.
And, when the poor man finally stumbled out, pale and shaken, she couldn't help but feel some sympathy for him-probably because she knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of Steve Warwick's anger and deadly brand of savage sarcasm. Not that she would have dreamt of saying so, but when he proceeded to take out his feelings on them all, she unwittingly intervened.
It was a wet, gloomy afternoon, which was why she'd decided to make more of a ritual of afternoon tea than usual. Lavinia sampled the cake, pronounced it mouthwatering and said, 'Steve would like some of this.' Steve was still closeted in his study.
Loretta looked at her with wry amusement. 'Then we'll nominate you to take it in to him, Lavinia.'
Lavinia glanced at her coldly, but, to her credit, did say, 'I think we should draw straws.'
And before Davina, who'd gone to fetch some hot water, realised what was happening, Candice had taken up the idea and Davina found herself drawing a short straw and then having to ask its significance.
'Thank you,' she said with considerable irony to Loretta and Lavinia. 'If you want my opinion, we should leave him be.'
'Ah, but Lavinia is of the opinion that your wonderful cake might just sweeten him up,' Loretta murmured.
Davina opened her mouth to say that she had good reason to want to stay outside a hundred-mile radius of Steve Warwick, for reasons that had nothing to do with today, but she caught a look echoed in both their eyes that was oddly curious. Damn, she thought, don't tell me they're cottoning on…? And she straightened her shoulders and went to prepare a smaller tray with as much nonchalance as she could muster.
'What's this?'
'Afternoon tea,' Davina said politely in reply to his curt query and, although she couldn't help being a bit taken aback by the harsh lines his face was still set in as he'd looked up from his desk, she couldn't resist adding when she should have just left it with him, 'Your grandmother thought… you'd like some.'
'Well, take no notice of her in future, Davina. I'll tell you what I like and don't. You can take it away. Tea is the last thing I need at the moment,' he added scathingly. She felt her temper rising and cursed herself for being jockeyed into this position against her better judgement-all of which combined to make her say, with deceptive gentleness, 'Aren't you being a bit childish,
Mr Warwick? None of
'And aren't you taking just a little too much upon yourself, Mrs Hastings?' He overrode her swiftly. 'You're only the damned housekeeper, as you so often persist in reminding me!'
By a huge effort of will, as their gazes clashed and a wave of colour came to her cheeks at the insolence and mockery she saw in his eyes, Davina restrained herself and did the only other thing possible. She turned on her heel and walked out, leaving the tea with him, and even managed to look rueful but calm as she walked back into the den. 'Not a good idea?' Loretta queried.
'No. He's still behaving like a spoilt child,' she said cheerfully, and thought privately that she deserved an Oscar. 'We'll just have to ride it out.'
It was Lavinia, after staring at Davina particularly thoughtfully for a moment, who said, 'He does have an awful temper sometimes, but once it's over it's over. He doesn't bear grudges.'
Ah, but I do, Davina thought to herself later. Thank heavens! I'm back to hating him…
Lavinia's prediction was correct, however. The next day he was back to normal, although he didn't apologise to anyone, but it was at dinner that evening that another bombshell exploded.
The meal commenced with a fight.
Loretta sent Candice up to change into a dress rather than the T-shirt she had simply added to her swimmers, causing Candice to tell her mother roundly that she hated her and Lavinia to tell Loretta that it was her duty to see that her only child was correctly attired
But, just when things looked as if they could get out of hand, Steve, who had been delayed by the telephone, arrived, took stock of the situation and said coolly and cuttingly, 'You'll do as you're told, Candice, and you two will stop squabbling because I'm running out of patience, I warn you.'
Everyone subsided and Davina dished up fragrant, delicious lemon chicken on a bed of fluffy white rice.
'You're just a marvellous cook,' Loretta said warmly to her, halfway through the course.
'I have to agree with you there,' Lavinia said, and said it only slightly grudgingly.
Steve murmured, 'Glory be!' but only audibly to Davina who was opposite him. He also smiled into her eyes, the tiniest, wickedest little smile that was gone before anyone could take note of it, at least Davina fervently hoped so because it acted rather like an electric shock on her nerve-ends.
It was Candice who then unwittingly dropped the bombshell. 'How come, if you're a Mrs, you haven't got a ring or a husband, Davina?'
'She's not a Mrs!' Lavinia said decisively.
'She is-Steve called her Mrs Hastings the other day, didn't you, Steve?'
'Here we go-she is actually, she's divorced,' he said mildly to no one in particular, but then sat back and watched his grandmother's reaction.
'Divorced!' Lavinia said right on cue. 'My dear girl! How come?'
Davina stopped eating and wished herself a hundred miles away again, as well as feeling a flicker of annoyance-why was it anyone's business? Why on earth should it be affording Lavinia such consternation? Why, above all, was Steve actually enjoying this? 'It was a mistake,' she said coolly. 'We were… completely ill-suited, as it turned out.' And she resumed eating as if to say, and that's that.
That wasn't that. 'Were you very young?' Lavinia queried.
'Twenty,' Steve said gravely.
'Did he sweep you off your feet-was he a lot older?'
'I…' Davina looked fleetingly into Lavinia's eyes that were the same hazel as her grandson's and sighed
