Into Temptation Read online

  After a while, angry as she was, she had to concede to herself that Guernsey looked utterly beautiful in the early afternoon sun, its high-banked hedgerows rippling with different coloured wild flowers, its patchwork of little fields – most no bigger than paddocks – planted up with vegetables, or filled with Guernsey’s, the local breed of cow, famed for their thick, creamy milk. They sped through Talbot Valley, its floor a thick carpet of flowers, then past an old granite farmhouse, a pair of old palm trees planted outside it – tropical plants thrived in the Channel Islands’ balmy summers and mild winters.

  Eventually they came to St Pierre du Bois, one of the island’s most high-lying and southerly parishes, where the land suddenly fell away into the sea in high, sprawling cliffs. It never ceased to amaze her just how diverse Guernsey was. For a little island just forty miles square it managed to pack in so much: mile after mile of unspoilt beaches, deep green hidden valleys – and acres of rich, velvety countryside.

  It was little wonder, she thought now, as they drove past two tourists hiking along the country road with maps in their hands, that people came from far and wide to visit. And it wasn’t even just the scenery that drew them: there was the special Anglo-French charm of the island – the way all the place names were still in Guernsey-French, the traditional patois people used to speak in years gone by, and the quaint, slightly olde-world feel to the place.

  Amber had never wanted to live anywhere else but Guernsey. She’d grown up with the sea just a stone’s throw away, spent all her childhood on the beach, building sandcastles and splashing through rock pools. All that she loved was here. Her friends, her mother and sister, precious memories of her childhood at Le Fourchet…

  But, she acknowledged to herself now for the first time, if she couldn’t find a decent job here in Guernsey, she might have to think about moving to England…

  Finally they emerged onto the brow of a hill and there was the sea suddenly, glimmering below, a perfect bolt of shimmering aquamarine satin.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Jack, signalling to turn into the long driveway that led to Les Crêtes, a former water mill that had been converted into Guernsey’s newest and most fashionable restaurant. He parked the car, opened the door for her, and they went in.

  A pretty, very fashionably-dressed young woman appeared immediately, and planted two air kisses on Jack’s cheeks. ‘Jack, how lovely to see you again!’ she cried, tossing her shiny blonde hair. ‘It’s been far too long.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Jack replied. ‘Caroline, I’d like you to meet Amber Dorey, one of my new employees. Amber, this is Caroline Gallez, manageress of Les Crêtes.’

  The manageress turned, gave Amber a brief, dismissive nod, and then returned her full attention to Jack. Amber couldn’t help a smirk. Could the woman possibly make her interest in Jack any more obvious? Well Caroline Gallez was welcome to him – if she could manage to snare him, which if Jack’s guarded body language was anything to go by, seemed unlikely.

  The woman started to enthuse about Jack’s newly unveiled takeover of De Garis Hotels, but diplomatically, authoritatively, he cut smoothly through her chatter. ‘Thank you Caroline,’ he said with a smile, ‘I’m glad you approve of the deal. Now if you’d be kind enough to take us to our table, I’m keen for Amber to try some of your chef’s famed paella.’

  They were led to a table in the corner of the terrace, a little apart from all the others, shaded by a lilac tree. Patio roses and lavender grew in great profusion in old-fashioned stone containers. The manageress handed them the menus, shot Amber a hostile look, and left.

  ‘I can thoroughly recommend the red mullet to start,’ Jack began, taking off his sunglasses and fixing her with those amazing deep blue eyes, ‘and then the seafood paella.’

  ‘Whatever you say,’ she said dismissively. ‘After all, you’re the boss.’

  He flashed an ironic smile, flipped the menu shut and summoned the waiter. ‘So,’ he said, once he’d given their order, twisting the arm of his sunglasses between long fingers, ‘let’s talk business.’

  He fired a series of searching questions, probing her about the De Garis Hotels accounts, the company’s discounts policy, and the latest set of accounts he’d sent her. The red mullet came, which was delicious, just as he’d promised, then the paella – a heavenly concoction of mussels, lobster, chicken and the local shellfish specialty, ormer. He began to outline how he planned to merge the company with Ward Hotels’ existing Channel Island operations.

  ‘There are going to be a lot of changes,’ he said. ‘All the De Garis hotels are going to be brought thoroughly into the modern age. There’ll be a complete refit of all the properties and all the booking and advertising work will be taken over by central office. My staff are going to launch a series of special offers aimed at boosting occupancy by at least twenty-five per cent. And I’m thinking of expanding the Guernsey business into restaurants, as well as hotels. This restaurant, for instance.’

  ‘This one?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, Les Crêtes. I’m thinking of buying it. Do you like it?’

  ‘Yes. It’s beautiful. But I didn’t realise it was for sale.’

  ‘Not officially. But everything is for sale Amber – if it’s worth more to someone else than its current owner.’ He took a mouthful of water and coolly assessed her with his eyes, making her feel oddly like some tiny insect trapped inside a jar. ‘But then I don’t suppose you care what I buy. Seeing as you won’t be here to be a part of it.’

  ‘No,’ she said forcefully, picking up her glass. ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Won’t you reconsider?’ he said, sliding his chair back and crossing his long legs in front of him. She thought, suddenly, of a panther lazing on a branch, black, silken, replete… ‘I’m looking for a number two in Guernsey,’ he continued. ‘A right hand person, as it were, to assist whomever I appoint to head up Ward Hotels’ entire Channel Island operation. It seems to me you’d be the perfect candidate. You know the De Garis Hotels business – and your knowledge of the local tourist industry must be very broad.’

  Number two in the whole merged Channel Island operation? At just twenty-five? The chance of a lifetime if ever there was one! But not for her.

  ‘I’m not interested,’ she said.

  ‘You’re very stubborn,’ he said, after a moment. ‘But that’s a quality I admire. I have an obstinate streak too. It’s stood me in good stead over the years. In fact – ’ he leant across to refill her glass – ‘I perceive that you and I very similar. Losing loved ones young has made us ambitious, but at the same time self-sufficient, wary.’

  ‘I’m nothing like you,’ she retorted tartly.

  He folded his hands in front of him and gave a sardonic smile. ‘Well Amber, I shall be sorry to lose your input. I hope you’ll manage to find another job that does justice to your abilities.’

  ‘I’ll find something.’ She pushed away her plate, the paella only half finished. ‘Please don’t waste any of your precious time worrying about me.’

  ‘You didn’t like it?’ He nodded towards her plate. ‘I must confess, it’s a little dry this time. A paella should always be moist, the rice cooked, but not wet. It’s a difficult balance to strike, and many chefs get it wrong.’

  ‘Oh so you’re an expert on paella now as well as everything else, are you?’ she swatted back sarcastically.

  ‘I can’t claim any major expertise. I simply happened to spend a lot of my time in Spain, when I was growing up. My mother,’ he added by way of explanation, ‘was Spanish.’

  ‘She was Spanish? She’s… not around any more then?’

  The even smile that he’d been wearing melted away, and his hard eyes suddenly and unaccountably softened, the arrogant spark snuffed out.

  ‘She died when I was thirteen,’ he said.

  ‘Oh… I’m so sorry!’ Amber immediately regretted her flippancy. Jack had lost both parents, then. She knew how bad it was to lose just one. But to lose both… Then a shutter seemed to come
down over his eyes once more.

  ‘Would you like coffee or dessert?’ he asked, businesslike once more. She shook her head, and he called for the bill. ‘Well then, let’s get back,’ he said. ‘We’re going to be extremely busy over the next few days. I’ll get Karen to send you a schedule this afternoon. We’re going to visit the two other De Garis Hotels properties in Guernsey tomorrow, then on Friday the hotel in Sark. You’ll need to bring your things. We’ll be staying overnight.’

  Once he’d paid, he drove her back, then shut himself in his office for the rest of the day.

  ‘Oh Amber, I can hardly believe it,’ said Jane Dorey, Amber’s mother. Just home from work, she was sitting with her daughters at the kitchen table. ‘That bloody company again. Oh, thank you love…’ Gratefully she took the cup of tea Amber had handed to her. ‘After what happened to your father I thought that was the end of it – thought we’d never need have anything to do with Ward Hotels ever again. And now here they are back again, buying up De Garis Hotels.’

  ‘I thought my eyes were deceiving me when I saw the news,’ said Jessica. ‘What must the odds be of something like that happening? First our father, now my sister.’

  Jane looked across at her elder daughter. ‘How do you feel about it Amber?’ she asked, eyes full of concern. ‘I know you took what happened to your dad very hard.’

  Amber swallowed hard. ‘I’ve handed in my notice.’

  ‘You... you’ve resigned?’ Her mother’s eyes widened. ‘Oh Amber! Are you sure that was the right thing to do? I know how much you love your job.’

  ‘But how could I do anything else mum? After everything that happened? How can I possibly work for the same company that… that did what they did to dad?’

  Amber’s mother shook her head in a silent gesture of concern. ‘Oh sweetheart. I don’t like this any more than you. But I hate to see you lose your job. You’ve worked so hard, and you’ve done so well – the other nurses at the hospital must be fed up with me always going on about you and your latest achievement at work. Maybe you should reconsider... What do you think Jess? After all, what happened to your father happened a long time ago now. Perhaps we ought to move on, put the past behind us? And anyway, it isn’t even the same man at the helm now is it? It’s his son.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Jessica, after a moment’s silence. ‘Much as the idea of you working for Ward Hotels sticks in my craw, if you leave now it’s like you’re punishing yourself – and so they’re winning again. Don’t you see? Maybe this Jack Ward is a completely different man from his father. After all, he’s not putting anyone out of work, so the newspaper said.’

  ‘He’s no different at all,’ said Amber firmly. Just as well her mother and sister didn’t know the whole shabby story… ‘My mind is made up, and there’s no use in either of you trying to persuade me otherwise. I’m going to work out my month’s notice and then leave.’ Of course her mother and sister wanted what they thought was best for her. But work for bullying, arrogant Jack Ward? Hell would freeze over first.

  Chapter Six

  Amber strode out of the Albecq Hotel, vowing never to return as long as she lived. Oh God, what an awful job interview, and what a dreary old place! She’d just interviewed for a job as deputy manager of the Albecq, a small two-star hotel on Guernsey’s west coast, the only remotely suitable position for her that Fran Mahy had been able to come up.

  But the position had, in fact, turned out to be far from suitable, consisting largely of standing in for the restaurant and bar staff on their days off. Not only that, the managing director had practically accused her of embellishing her CV, apparently unable to believe that someone her age could legitimately have got herself promoted to the position she occupied.

  She groaned out loud. Was she ever going to find anything suitable? When she’d handed in her notice to Frank she’d imagined she’d be able to find something else with little trouble. But it was beginning to look as though she’d thoroughly misjudged the situation.

  What was happening to her? Just a few short months ago she’d been a success story: the dynamic young accountant with a fantastic job and loving fiancé waiting to sweep her off her feet. Now she’d been cheated on by the man she’d been set to marry, had unknowingly slept with her amoral, calculating boss, and would shortly be out of a job. How had her life turned into this farce?

  She returned to her car, her overnight bag propped up against the back seat. In just an hour’s time she would be leaving for the small island of Sark with Jack Ward. Her heart, unaccountably, skipped a beat. They would be staying the night at La Vermandée Hotel, the smallest of the De Garis Hotels properties, on Sark’s eastern coast.

  All that time in each other’s company. How was she going to cope? For even while she hated him, his physical presence had a sensual effect on her – a considerable one. It was no longer possible to deny it.

  The last couple of days Jack had been true to his word and kept her as busy as she’d ever been in her life, utterly at his beck and call, going through accounts, invoices, spreadsheets, tax bills, and drawing up new financial projections. He’d been thoroughly businesslike the whole time. Not once had he let down his guard, given any hint of emotion, as he’d done that day, fleetingly, over lunch, when he’d talked of his mother. And not once had he referred to the brief night of passion they’d spent together.

  But she, increasingly, had been able to think of nothing else – had been all too aware of the powerful, painful attraction burgeoning inside her by the minute, as much as she tried to suppress it. Every time she looked up at him to take his latest curt instruction she felt desire drum automatically inside her. Every time he leant down over her shoulder to get a better look at whatever spreadsheet she had open in front of her, she felt physically rattled.

  And last night she had even dreamt of him. They were back on the beach, her body entwined with his, twisting beneath him, his mouth crushing down on hers, her fingers running crazily through his soft black hair, then down his chest…

  She started the engine, and pressed down hard on the accelerator. Oh God this had to stop. Jack Ward was starting to take up far too many of her thoughts, and it was getting to be difficult to concentrate. All the more reason to get her future settled as soon as possible and put both him and Ward Hotels behind her.

  Back at De Garis Hotels Amber went immediately to Jack’s office, tapped on the half-ajar door and went in. He wasn’t there. Typical. He’d told her to meet him there at ten-thirty and, according to the antique silver clock on the windowsill, he was now ten minutes late. She sat down and waited.

  His office, apart from the clock, was completely devoid of the small photos and personal mementoes that usually adorned people’s work spaces, that gave clues, unwitting or otherwise, as to who they were. Then, all at once, she noticed a small black and white photograph of a dark-haired woman in a crystal frame. Surely that hadn’t been there before?

  Glancing surreptitiously behind her she got to her feet, went around to the front of the desk and picked up the photograph. Her heart gave a tiny jolt. The woman was, quite simply, beautiful. She looked like Jack – heartbreakingly so: his wavy black hair, his vibrant eyes, his dark, questioning brows, raised here not in silent, ironic comment but in simple, joyous smile. Jack’s mother – it couldn’t be anyone else. Jack’s mother, who had died when he was just a boy.

  Suddenly the phone on the desk rang. Amber, jumping with guilty surprise, swung around – and in so doing dropped the photograph. The crystal frame fell loudly to the floor, smashing into pieces. Heart thudding with the disbelieving horror of what she’d done, she bent down and began to gather up the pieces.

  Oh no! Whatever am I going to tell him?

  The phone continued to ring. Usually, after several rings, it would automatically redirect to Karen. But not this time – which meant that the call must be coming in on Jack’s private phone line. Perhaps it was Jack himself, calling to tell her he was going to be late. In which case she’d bet
ter answer…

  She picked up.

  ‘Jack darling,’ a woman said, before Amber could speak. It was a languid, slightly husky voice. ‘At last. I’ve been trying to get hold of you forever. Remember your promise to take me to Venice? Well it just so happens that I’m free next weekend...’

  Amber found herself suddenly – and inexplicably – unable to speak.

  ‘Jack, are you there...?’ came the woman’s voice again.

  ‘I’m afraid this isn’t Jack,’ Amber managed to say, eventually.

  ‘Oh,’ said the woman, her voice suddenly harsh with disdain. ‘Are you his secretary?’

  ‘No.’ A terrible feeling was winding its way into her stomach. A feeling she immediately recognised – as pure, unadulterated envy. Who was this woman, this sexy-sounding woman whom Jack had, apparently, promised to take to Venice?

  ‘Look, I need to speak to Jack,’ the woman snapped. ‘Is he there? Tell him Cassie’s on the phone.’

  ‘I’m afraid he isn’t here,’ said Amber, trying with difficulty to sound more in control than she felt. The sick, jealous feeling was quickly working its way up her body, constricting her lungs, burning her cheeks.

  ‘I see,’ replied the disembodied voice coldly. ‘Look, I have to go. Tell Jack his girlfriend rang. Tell him to call me.’ The woman laughed suddenly, a scornful, throaty laugh. ‘Tell him I’m wearing the black silk lingerie he bought in Paris, and I’m waiting for him.’ The line went dead.

  Amber sat down heavily, the pieces of crystal photo frame lying higgledy-piggledy in her lap.

  Her heart was in her throat. So, Jack was in a relationship. He’d never given a single clue that he was involved with someone. The night of the conference reception he’d very deliberately seduced her, made love to her, while all the time he had a girlfriend. He was even more despicable than she’d thought!