Into Temptation Read online

  Then he’d put his hands on his hips, defiant. ‘I paid half the deposit on this flat you know,’ he’d said slowly and evenly. ‘And I mean to get back out everything that I put in. It’s not as if we’re married, after all.’

  ‘Get out!’

  That had been the last she’d seen of him. She’d cancelled the wedding, sublet the flat, and moved back in with her mother and sister – several thousand pounds the worse off.

  She’d been inconsolable for the first week, and then, as she’d gradually emerged from her self-imposed misery, progressively more confused and angry. How could the man she had loved – and whom she’d implicitly believed loved her in return – have done this to her? Rory, her first real boyfriend. How could she have been so wrong in him?

  Now here she was at twenty-five, suddenly single again, all her hopes and dreams of marriage and family lying in tatters.

  She swung out onto the South Esplanade, the wide coast road that snaked from St Peter Port – Guernsey’s main town and chief of its twelve parishes – right down the eastern flank of the little island to St Sampson’s, where she lived. A couple of minutes later she sped past the Victoria and Albert marinas, their pontoons crowded with visiting yachts. In the distance a couple of local fishing trawlers chugged back into harbour, having sold their day’s catch in France. The day’s tension began to ebb out of her veins a little. On a glorious evening like this it was almost possible to forget your troubles. Almost.

  Traffic, thankfully, was fairly light and she reached St. Sampson’s just ten minutes later. As she turned in past Bordeaux Harbour she automatically looked up at the hill to the left. On top of it stood an old granite building: Le Fourchet Hotel. Her father had once owned it, as had his father before him, and Amber and her sister Jessica had grown up there.

  Seven years ago it had been sold to a London-based company.

  She felt the familiar twinge of bitterness and looked away again. It had been her father’s idea to sell. The hotel had desperately needed to be upgraded, and bookings were suffering as a result. But Andrew Dorey had no way of raising the money on his own. The outfit on the mainland, meanwhile, was proposing not only to buy the hotel at a respectable price, but crucially a ten-year contract allowing him to stay on as manager.

  ‘It’s all but perfect,’ she remembered her father explaining animatedly, as he’d revealed his plans to them all, showed them the paperwork. ‘There’ll be enough to buy a new house, and what’s left will be a great nest egg. And the ten-year contract will see me practically to retirement. No more living hand-to-mouth. It’s a godsend.’

  But it had turned out to be quite the opposite. No chalice could have been more poisoned. The company had reneged on its promise: it had bought the hotel, as agreed, but less than a year into his contract, Andrew Dorey had been unaccountably dismissed. Amber had pleaded with her father to take his case to a lawyer, but her father hadn’t had the will – seemed simply to want to forget about the whole thing. He’d bought a run-down old guesthouse on the south coast with the money he’d received for Le Fourchet, and begun to refurbish it. But his heart was never in it, and a couple of years later he’d died from a heart attack.

  If it hadn’t been for the hotel affair, Amber knew, he would still be alive today. She would never forget. And she would never forgive.

  She drew up at the family home, a small whitewashed fisherman’s cottage set back from the road, and ran in. Her mother would still be at the hospital, where she worked as a nurse, so Amber raced straight up the stairs. She tried the bathroom door, but it was locked. She knocked anxiously. ‘Jess? Are you going to be long?’

  ‘Another ten minutes,’ her sister called. ‘What’s the big rush?’

  Typical. Jessica was always in the bathroom whenever she needed it. Her sister had recently returned to Guernsey after a three-year stint working in Southeast Asia, and the little cottage now seemed very crowded as a result. ‘I’ve got the conference reception tonight, remember? Please Jess, be as quick as you can will you?’

  She ran into her bedroom. What on earth was she going to wear? She’d been so busy all day she hadn’t even had time to think about it. She really ought to wear a proper evening dress – the event was black-tie after all – but she didn’t possess one. The black cocktail dress she’d last worn to Rory’s company Christmas party would have to do. She retrieved it from the back of her wardrobe and threw it on the bed, then got down on her hands and knees and began to root around under the bed for her only pair of suitable shoes.

  Jessica put her head around the door. ‘Bathroom’s free.’

  ‘Thanks Jess, you’re a star!’ Amber showered and washed her hair as quickly as was humanly possible and returned to her room – to find her sister sitting on her bed, an accusing look in her eye, the black cocktail dress lying limply across her arms like a piece of seaweed washed up by the tide.

  ‘Please tell me you’re not going to wear this,’ Jessica sighed.

  ‘What’s wrong with it?’

  ‘It’s hideous, that’s what. Who on earth wears crushed velvet these days?’

  ‘Well… um, me I suppose. I thought it looked rather nice.’

  ‘Amber please, trust me: “nice” is not an appropriate description for this unfortunate garment. And the same, I’m sorry to have to say, goes for the rest of your wardrobes. I’ve never seen so many dreary suits in one place. You look like you spend your life at an undertakers’ convention.’ Jessica stood up. The younger by two years she was about Amber’s height, but slimmer, with large blue eyes, her father’s thick red hair – and a giant helping of sex appeal. Ever since they’d been girls Jessica had always been the more outgoing. Boys had been eating out of her hand from an early age. Amber, more interested anyway in the intricacies of calculus than the opposite sex, had been happy to hide behind her glasses and concentrate on her studies – even back then she’d been determined to succeed. ‘I’ve got something you can borrow,’ Jessica said.

  ‘That’s really sweet of you Jess,’ said Amber, toweling herself vigorously, ‘but I’m in rather a hurry. And anyway, it’s only a silly work reception.’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere wearing that old rag,’ said Jessica, standing up and crossing her arms defiantly. ‘I’m quite prepared to physically bar the front door if I have to. You’re supposed to be the hostess aren’t you? You have to make an impression. Wait here. I’ll just be a second. And for goodness’ sake don’t touch your face or hair,’ she instructed. ‘I’m going to do them for you. I’ve been dying to get my hands on you ever since I got back.’

  ‘Jess, I haven’t got time, I…’

  Jessica put up a hand and raised her chin in mock-serious challenge. ‘I’m not taking no for an answer. It’ll only take a minute.’ Seconds later she reappeared bearing a diaphanous, deep red creation. ‘I think this will do very well. I bought it a few months back in Hong Kong, but it’s a bit too big. On you, though, I think it’ll be perfect. Here we go, arms up…’

  The dress skimmed down over Amber’s body like the softest and most intimate of kisses. She stared at herself in the full-length mirror opposite – and gulped. The dress was undeniably beautiful, soft and sheer, nipped in at the waist, with delicate spaghetti straps. But it was rather low-cut. Amber, more used to concealing her figure than revealing it, was horrified. ‘I can’t possibly wear this,’ she stammered. ‘It’s too small. You can practically see my boobs!’

  ‘Of course you can see them,’ Jessica countered, rolling her eyes. ‘That’s the whole idea, silly. Don’t look so shocked. It’s just a bit of cleavage that’s all. Women go out like this every night of the week – and much worse. Babe, if you’ve got it, flaunt it. I’d kill to be as voluptuous as you are.’ She stood back admiringly. ‘Wow. You’ve really got the shape to carry it off; you always did have. But you’d never know, not the way you always hide it.’ Jessica took sister’s arm. ‘Now get out your contact lenses,’ she ordered. ‘I assume you do have contact lenses don�
�t you?’

  ‘Well yes… but I don’t really wear them that often. They’re too much hassle.’

  ‘Put them in,’ Jessica ordered. ‘No one ever said it was easy being beautiful.’

  Chapter Two

  A mere ten minutes later Amber scarcely recognised herself. Jessica had skillfully and subtly applied make-up to her face, emphasising her large green eyes, full lips, and high cheekbones – the most make-up Amber normally wore was mascara and a dab of lipstick. Even her nose, which she’d never been especially keen on, now somehow looked magically in proportion with the rest of her face. But it was her hair that was the true revelation. Jessica had insisted she wear it down, and instead of attempting to blow-dry out all the curls, as Amber always did, she’d simply run her fingers through it, so it fell in a gilded, wavy cascade around her shoulders.

  She no longer looked like Amber Dorey at all. Instead some unknown, self-confident seductress stared back at her.

  ‘Well?’ Jessica prompted.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ said Amber finally. ‘Is it really me? I hardly dare go out looking like this.’

  ‘It most definitely is you.’ Jessica went to stand behind her and placed her hands gently on her shoulders. ‘And you’re not only going to go out like this, you’re going to enjoy the attention. Can’t you see how fantastic you look?’

  Amber tugged in wonderment at a lock of hair. ‘My hair. It’s so different. I haven’t worn it down for ages. Rory likes it up.’

  It was out before she even grasped what she’d said. ‘Oh…’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Jessica. ‘You need to wash that man out of your hair Amber, starting tonight. You deserve better. Go on, off with you. Enjoy yourself. You take life much too seriously. Smile, laugh, flirt a little! Maybe you’ll even meet someone new at this reception of yours.’

  Amber turned and hugged her sister impulsively. ‘At an insurance conference ball?’ she laughed. ‘I very much doubt it. But thanks anyway Jess. It’s so nice to have you back in Guernsey. I’ve really missed you.’

  Amber got into her car, carefully arranged her new finery about her, and started off. Whoever would have thought that the right shade of eye shadow could alter a person’s look so fundamentally? That the right dress could turn the rather ample flesh she’d always been a little embarrassed by into something worthy of being on display?

  Suddenly she felt a stab of apprehension. She didn’t have the confidence to carry this off. She wasn’t like her alluring, polished sister, utterly in her element among a roomful of men. Perhaps she should have worn the black velvet after all. What would everyone think of her? Perhaps she ought to turn back…

  No! said a voice, somewhere deep in her mind, surprising her with its insistence. She was going to wear Jessica’s dress. Her sister was right. She deserved better than Rory – much better. She needed to wash him not only out of her hair, but completely out of her life, forget all about him and start afresh, with a new attitude.

  And a new attitude surely demanded a new, more confident look. All right, so she needn’t dress like a siren every day – a little incongruous anyway when you were a company accountant – but perhaps she could dispense with the glasses at the very least, get Jessica to help her pick out a few more flattering suits. And experiment with wearing her hair down.

  She’d had long hair – that woman Rory had brought into their bed. The memory of that terrible afternoon popped suddenly, unbidden, into her mind; the image of the woman, sitting on top of Rory, wild black hair tumbling down over her breasts.

  So much for Rory’s insistence that she always wear her hair up. What turned him on in his future wife obviously didn’t also go for his lovers: apparently he preferred the former demure, but the latter distinctly brazen. She shook her head, as if the action could help dislodge the image of her fiancé’s deceit.

  She’d never had a real boyfriend before, had always, somehow, been too busy, first with her accountancy course, then working her way up the corporate ladder. She’d always been ambitious – always wanted more from life than run-of-the-mill. And after her father’s death those desires had solidified into a burning desire to make a name for herself in the local hotel industry – so that he would have been proud of her.

  It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in men – she’d always wanted marriage and children eventually, but she’d always been preoccupied with other things.

  Then, last year, she’d met Rory.

  The attention from the grey-eyed, blond-haired young man she’d first met in a local bar had been utterly intoxicating. He’d been all charm at first: flowers, little gifts, intimate candlelit dinners for two – nothing had been too much trouble for him, and quickly she’d fallen for him hook, line and sinker. So much so that it had been difficult to resist the increasing pressure he was putting on her to sleep with him. She’d wanted to, but her lack of experience with men had made her wary of getting into a sexual relationship that didn’t involve some sort of commitment: despite her lofty career aspirations she’d always been a rather old-fashioned girl at heart. Finally losing her virginity at twenty-four meant a great deal to her, and she wanted to make sure that her first time was with a man who really loved her.

  And so the evening he’d proposed had been the night she’d slept with a man for the first time. It wasn’t exactly world-rocking, like people said it was. But it was nice enough. And she supposed it would get better, in time…

  She’d immediately started looking for a flat for them to rent, and eagerly begun to plan the wedding. Things, as far as she’d been concerned, were blissful. Sure he’d been a little vague whenever she raised the topic of the wedding, saying maybe they should wait a little longer, but then what man was enthused by wedding plans? And yes, granted, they no longer seemed to spend quite as much time in each other’s company as they’d done at the start, but then every relationship settled down a little after the initial honeymoon phase didn’t it?

  Yes. Everything had looked rosy.

  And then had come that terrible afternoon. And the scales had fallen, very painfully, from her eyes.

  She’d been the biggest fool in Guernsey. The ring had been little more than a ruse to get her into bed. Rory had never had any serious intention of marrying her. She’d simply been a novelty, her virginity a challenge. Once he’d got what he wanted his interest had waned.

  She pulled into Le Grand Creux’s car park. The old hotel looked so beautiful in the soft evening light, its severe grey granite façade gaily hung with velvety purple clematis and pale blue wisteria. She snatched one last look at herself in the rear view mirror and made a dash for the hotel.

  The delegates were all assembled in the foyer bar, resplendent in evening clothes. But none of the other women was wearing red, Amber saw with a dart of anxiety. They were all sensibly attired in muted colours. And they were all, without exception, covered up. There wasn’t a cleavage on display anywhere. Apart from hers…

  ‘Can I help you madam?’ Graham the concierge looked up as she approached his desk.

  ‘Graham it’s me, Amber.’

  He did a double take. ‘I… I hardly recognised you. You look… you look…’

  ‘Have the flowers arrived?’

  ‘Yes, er… that is… um, about fifteen minutes ago. The girls are setting them out now.’ He continued to stare at her openly.

  Oh no, thought Amber, rising fear clutching at her throat. What had she done? This really had been the most awful mistake… Then suddenly she heard Janet Marquand’s voice, and turned to see the woman bearing down on her.

  ‘Amber! Oh my goodness!’ she boomed, her features wreathed in a huge smile. ‘Let me look at you properly. Wow! You look absolutely dazzling my dear. I can hardly believe it’s you.’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit too much?’ Amber enquired urgently. ‘It was my sister’s idea. I think I might have let her get a little carried away.’

  Janet laughed. ‘You look perfect. What are you worrying about?’ Sh
e winked. ‘Good for you Amber. It’s about time you got some of the limelight.’

  Amber wasn’t sure she wanted any limelight. Being unobtrusive – no, being businesslike, she corrected herself – had suited her perfectly well up until now. But it was too late to do anything about her appearance now. She would just have to brave it out.

  ‘Everything’s ready,’ Janet continued, ‘so you’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about. I suggest you start rounding everyone up in about five minutes or so.’

  ‘Thanks ever so much Janet.’ Amber gave the other woman’s hand a grateful squeeze and made to go.

  ‘You’re welcome my dear. Oh and Amber…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Enjoy yourself. All work and no play… Well, you know what they say!’ She chuckled, and wandered off.

  Amber frowned and set off for a quick inspection of the ballroom. Is that what people thought of her? A dull workaholic who never let her hair down? Rory had pretty much accused her of the same thing. But it was unfair… wasn’t it?

  Pah! Of course it was. She certainly spent a lot of time at work, that much she conceded. It was, after all, a necessary sacrifice in a fast-growing company like De Garis Hotels: Frank De Garis had seen her promise and promoted her quickly, and for that he expected her to prove herself – which she happily did. Yes, she loved her job. But never to the exclusion of Rory.

  Thank goodness for her career. Apart from the unstinting support from her mother and sister it had been the only thing keeping her going lately. She had literally thrown herself into work. And as luck would have it, Frank had kept her doubly busy lately with a major project putting together a comprehensive review of the group’s finances and prospects.

  She made her way back to the bar, steeling herself for the evening ahead. She had attended a couple of De Garis Hotels receptions before, but nothing as smart as this. And she had certainly never hosted an event. She felt a beat of apprehension – but immediately choked it off. How difficult could it be? Introducing a few speeches and making small talk with a roomful of dry insurance executives must surely be a doddle compared with her day-to-day job of balancing the De Garis Hotels books. She arranged her features into a confident smile, waited for a lull in the buzz of conversation and took a deep breath.