His Forbidden Passion

Cleo felt as if she couldn’t breathe. ‘You’re lying!’

‘I don’t lie,’ said Dominic bleakly. ‘Unlike your father, I’m afraid.’

Cleo shook her head. ‘How do I know that’s not the so-called second certificate?’ she protested. ‘Perhaps your father lied to you, too.’

Dominic didn’t argue with her. He just looked at her from beneath lowered lids, thick black lashes providing a stunning frame for his clear green eyes.

And for the first time, Cleo began to worry about the consequences of her actions. What if he and his aunt were telling the truth? If they were, it followed that the Novaks had lied to her all these years. And that scenario was very hard to stomach.

Then he said quietly, ‘There is such a thing as DNA, you know.’

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she muttered at last, and saw a trace of compassion in his face.

‘Why don’t you take a proper look at this?’ Dominic suggested, handing her the birth certificate again. ‘Celeste insisted on having you registered before she died.’

Cleo swallowed and reluctantly looked at the sheet of parchment he’d given her. There was Robert Montoya’s name, and her own, Cleopatra. She had been born in San Clemente, but her birth had been registered in Nassau, New Providence, both islands in the Bahamas.

Smoothing the sheet with quivering fingers, she said, ‘If this is real, why did your father send me away?’

‘It’s—complicated.’ Dominic sighed. ‘Initially, I don’t suppose he intended to. Celeste would never have let him take you away. But…’ He paused. ‘Celeste died, and that changed everything. And there was no way Robert Montoya could have claimed you as his when his own wife was incapable of having children.’

‘But she adopted you,’ protested Cleo painfully, and Dominic felt a useless pang of anger towards the man who’d raised him.

‘I was—different.’

‘Not black, you mean?’

Cleo was very touchy and Dominic couldn’t say he blamed her.

‘No,’ he said at last, although her mother’s identity had played an important part in Robert’s decision. He sighed. ‘Celeste Dubois had worked for my father. She was an extremely efficient housekeeper and when she discovered she was pregnant—’

‘Yes, I get the picture.’ Cleo’s lips were trembling now. She made a gesture of contempt. ‘It wouldn’t do for the household staff to get above themselves. What a delightful family you have, Mr Montoya.’

‘They’re your family, too,’ he said wryly. ‘And my name is Dominic. It’s a little foolish to call me Mr Montoya in the circumstances, don’t you think?’

‘I don’t know what to think,’ said Cleo wearily. ‘I just wish—’ She shook her head. ‘I just wish it would all go away.’

‘Well, I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.’

‘Why? Because my grandfather is dying?’ She sniffed back a sob. ‘Why should I do anything for a man who didn’t even acknowledge my existence for the first twenty-two years of my life?’

‘You don’t actually know how he felt.’ Dominic had noticed the way she’d said ‘my’ grandfather and not ‘your’. ‘It wasn’t the old man’s decision to send you to London with the Novaks.’

‘But he apparently went along with it.’

‘Mmm.’ Dominic conceded the point. ‘But what’s done is done. It’s too late to worry about it now.’

Cleo sniffed again. ‘Is that supposed to console me?’

‘It’s a fact.’ Dominic spoke without emphasis. ‘It may please you to know that he’s going to get quite a shock when he sees you.’

‘Why? He knows who my parents were.’

Dominic groaned. ‘Will you stop beating yourself up over who your parents were? They don’t matter. Well, only in directly. I meant—’ He broke off and then continued doggedly, ‘You’re a beautiful woman, Cleo. I’m sure many men have told you that. But I doubt if the old man has considered the effect you’re going to have on island society.’

Cleo gave him a disbelieving look. ‘You don’t mean that.’

‘Don’t I?’

She hesitated. ‘So—are you saying I have that effect on you, too?’ she asked tightly, a faint trace of mockery in her voice.

Dominic sighed. ‘I guess I’m as susceptible to beauty as the next man,’ he conceded wryly. ‘But I don’t think your grandfather would approve of any relationship between us.’ He grimaced. ‘He doesn’t approve of the way I live my life as it is.’

Cleo bent her head, suddenly despairing. She had never felt more gauche or so completely out of her depth in her life.

She should have known he wouldn’t find her attractive. Despite what he’d said, she was convinced he was only being polite. Besides, a man like him was almost bound to have a girlfriend—girlfriends! He was far too charismatic for it not to be so.

But she couldn’t help wondering what kind of woman he liked.

One thing was certain, she thought a little bitterly. He wouldn’t choose someone like her, someone who hadn’t even known who their real parents were until today.

‘So—do you believe me?’

Cleo didn’t lift her head. ‘About what?’

He blew out a breath. ‘Don’t mess with me, Cleo. You know what I’m talking about.’ He paused. ‘I want to know how you feel.’

‘Like you care,’ she muttered, and Dominic had to stifle an oath.

‘I care,’ he said roughly. ‘I know this has been tough on you. But believe me, there was no other way to deal with it.’

She moved her head in a gesture of denial. Then, unable to hide the break in her voice, she mumbled, ‘I still can’t believe it. Someone should have told me before now.’

‘I agree.’

She cast a fleeting glance up at him. ‘But you didn’t think it was your place to do it?’

‘Hey, I didn’t know myself until a couple of weeks ago!’ exclaimed Dominic defensively. ‘Nor did Serena. She is seriously—peeved, believe me.’

Cleo sensed the word he’d intended to use was not as polite as ‘peeved’ but he controlled his anger.

‘Are you seriously—peeved?’ she asked, again without looking at him, and Dominic wondered what she expected him to say.

‘Only with the situation,’ he assured her, aware of a feeling of frustration that had nothing to do with her. ‘I guess the Novaks had been told to keep your identity a secret. Maybe they would have told you—eventually. But they didn’t get a chance.’

Cleo heaved a sigh, and when she turned her face up to his he saw the sparkle of tears overspilling her beautiful eyes.

‘I’ve been such a fool,’ she said tremulously. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just—too much to take in all at once.’

‘I can see that.’

In spite of himself, Dominic felt his senses stir. She was so confused; so vulnerable. His grandfather should never have gifted him with this task.

‘Hey,’ he said gruffly, as the tears continued to flow. Leaning towards her, he used his thumb to brush the drops away. ‘Don’t cry.’

He was hardly aware of how sensual his action had been until he felt the heat of her tears against the pad of his thumb.

Fortunately, at this hour of an October afternoon, the subdued lights in the lounge created an oasis of intimacy around their table, and no one had seen what he’d done.

Or, perhaps, not so fortunately, thought Dominic, hastily dragging his hand away. But not before her eyes had met his in a look of total understanding.

And he knew that she knew that for a brief moment of madness he had wanted her. Wholly and completely. He’d wanted to penetrate the burning core of her and assuage the incredible hard-on he’d developed in the melting heart of her oh-so-tempting body.

Christ and all His saints!

Unable to sit still with such thoughts for company, Dominic got abruptly to his feet. He buttoned his jacket over the revealing bulge in his trousers, hoping against hope that she hadn’t seen it. For pity’s sake, what in hell was wrong with him?

The waitress, ever-vigilant, came to see if there was anything else she could get him. Yeah, thought Dominic grimly, a stiff whisky. But he was driving, so he shook his head.

‘Just the bill,’ he said, pulling out his wallet and handing over a couple of twenties. ‘Keep the change,’ he added, as she started to protest it was too much.

Then, turning back to Cleo, he said, ‘If you’re ready, I’ll take you home.’

Cleo swallowed, her tears evaporating as she became aware, in some shameful corner of her mind, that she was to blame for his sudden agitation. She wasn’t proud of her reaction, but she was only human, after all. And she couldn’t deny the warm feeling that was swelling inside her.

Whether he liked it or not, Dominic wasn’t indifferent to her.

But she couldn’t—shouldn’t—allow it to go on.

‘I’ll get the bus,’ she said, making a thing of pouring herself more coffee. ‘I’m not finished. Thank you all the same.’

She could hear Dominic breathing as he stood beside her. And the very fact that she could hear his infuriated response should have warned her she was treading on thin ice.

But she certainly wasn’t prepared for him to bend down and pour the contents of her cup into the coffee pot. Then, slamming the cup back onto the saucer, he said, ‘You’re finished. Let’s go.’

The waitress was still hovering and Cleo knew she couldn’t cause a scene. Apart from anything else, she might want to visit the hotel again, whereas Dominic, she was sure, was never likely to darken its doors again.

Gathering her bag, she forced a smile for the waitress’s benefit, and then, pressing her lips together, preceded Dominic from the room.

They crossed the reception hall in silence, but when they emerged into the damp evening air Cleo stopped dead in her tracks.

‘I meant what I said,’ she declared stiffly. ‘I would prefer to get the bus.’

‘And I’ve said I’ll take you home,’ said Dominic, brooking no argument. His hand in the small of her back was anything but romantic. ‘Move, Cleo. You know where I parked.’

She decided there was no point in fighting with him. Besides, the buses were usually full at this hour of the evening, and why look a gift horse in the mouth? If he insisted on driving her home, why not let him? It was obvious from his expression that he had nothing else on his mind.

Dominic, meanwhile, was struggling to come to terms with what had happened in the bar. For goodness’ sake, what was there about Cleo Novak that caused every sexual pheromone in his body to go on high alert?

It was pathetic, he thought irritably. He wasn’t a kid to get a hard-on every time a beautiful woman flirted with him.

But, as they neared the SUV and he used the remote to unlock the doors, he had to admit she intrigued him. Dammit, when had the touch of a woman’s skin ever had that effect on him?

Never.

Cleo didn’t wait for him to open the door for her. Sliding inside, she settled her bag on her lap, and pressed her knees tightly together. But a pulse was palpitating insistently inside her head and it was mirrored by the sensual heat she could feel between her legs.

Drawing a breath, she tried to concentrate on the car park outside the windows of the vehicle. Several people were leaving as they were, but others were just arriving.

Staff, maybe, she reflected, aware that she didn’t really care. She just wanted to be home, safe inside the locked door of the apartment. She didn’t want to think about Dominic, or her grandfather, or how she felt about the couple she’d always believed were her parents. She just wanted to get into bed and bury her head under the covers.

‘I assume this road will take us to Notting Hill,’ Dominic said after a moment, and she was forced to pay attention to her surroundings.

‘Yes,’ she muttered. ‘But you can drop me in Cheyney Walk, if you like.’

‘I think I can find Minster Court,’ he said coolly and she remembered that he’d been there before. ‘You’d better give me your cellphone number. If you do intend to obey your grandfather’s wishes and come to San Clemente, there are arrangements to be made, right?’

Cleo’s throat dried. Of course. They expected her to go to San Clemente. But how could she do that? She didn’t even know where it was.

She’d been silent for too long, and with a harsh exclamation Dominic said, ‘About what happened at the pub…’

‘Your ruining my coffee, you mean?’ she countered, grateful for the reprieve, but he wasn’t amused by her attempt at distraction.

‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘Forget about the damn coffee. You know what I’m talking about.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes.’ His strong fingers tightened on the wheel and she couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to have those long fingers gripping her just as tightly. ‘It was a mistake, right? I never should have touched you. And I want you to know, it’ll never happen again.’

‘All right.’

Cleo made her voice sound indifferent and he cast a frustrated glance in her direction.

‘I mean it,’ he persisted. ‘I want you to know, I’m not that kind of man.’

‘But you think I’m that kind of woman, hmm?’ she suggested contemptuously, and he groaned.

‘Of course not—’

‘Well, forget it—Dominic. You’re my brother, remember?’

Dominic wished to hell he were her brother. Her real brother, that was. Then he wouldn’t be having this crisis of conscience.

‘I haven’t forgotten.’ His tone was carefully controlled. ‘Now, do you have that number? By my estimation, we should leave within the week. Do you have a passport?’

Cleo caught her breath. ‘I can’t leave within a week,’ she protested. ‘I have a job.’

‘Ask for leave of absence,’ said Dominic impatiently. ‘Tell them it’s a family emergency.’

Cleo gasped. ‘Like they’re going to believe that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Why do you think? They know I just…buried…my parents six months ago.’

Dominic felt a reluctant sense of compassion. ‘Well, I guess you’re going to have to tell them the truth,’ he murmured drily, and she gave him an indignant look.

‘I can’t do that.’ She turned her head to stare out of the window again. ‘My God, how am I supposed to convince Mr Rodgers of something that I hardly believe myself?’

Dominic frowned. ‘How about telling them that you’ve just discovered you’ve got a grandfather living in San Clemente? I assume they know that the Novaks came from the Caribbean?’

Cleo’s lips quivered. ‘You think it’s so easy, don’t you? But this is my life, my career; the way I earn my living. I can’t just screw it up on a whim.’

Dominic bit back the urge to tell her that, unless he was very much mistaken, earning a living was going to be so much less of a challenge in the future. Jacob Montoya was a very wealthy man and he’d already hinted to Dominic that he wanted to try and make amends for his son’s failings.

But when Cleo continued to look doubtful, he had to say something.

‘You could always offer a few weeks’ salary in lieu of leave of absence,’ he murmured quietly, and Cleo’s eyes widened in alarm.

‘I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t afford to do that.’ In the light from the street lamps outside, Dominic was almost sure her colour deepened. ‘Besides, what would people think?’

‘Does that matter?’

‘Of course it matters.’ Cleo was indignant. ‘I need this job, Mr Montoya. I don’t want anyone to assume I have independent means because I don’t.’

Dominic sighed. ‘I don’t think money’s going to be a problem for you in the future,’ he said drily. ‘Jacob—Jacob Montoya, that is, your grandfather—is a wealthy man—’

‘And you think I’d take money from him.’ Cleo was appalled. ‘I don’t want his money. I don’t really want to have anything to do with him. It’s only because he’s—’

‘Dying?’ suggested Dominic helpfully, and she gave him a brooding look.

Then, when he said nothing more, she murmured unhappily, ‘I suppose if I told Mr Rodgers—he’s the head teacher—that I needed the time off on compassionate grounds, he might agree.’ She bit her lip. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, it’s worth a try,’ observed Dominic, deciding to reserve any stronger reaction until later. One way or another, she was going to be on that flight to San Clemente. He hadn’t come this far to back off now.

‘Mmm.’

She still sounded uncertain and Dominic was almost sorry when he saw the turn into Minster Court ahead of them.

There was so much more he should have said, he thought impatiently. Not least that her welcome might not be all that she expected. His own adoptive mother still lived at Magnolia Hill, the Montoyas’ estate on the east side of the island, and she was totally opposed to his grandfather’s decision to bring his son’s daughter back to the island.

The fact that the girl was Lily’s late husband’s daughter had come as a terrible shock to her. She’d had no idea that the reason Celeste’s baby had been spirited so hastily to England had been to prevent her from finding out the truth. Celeste’s death had sealed her lips once and for all.

But it was all out in the open now, and Dominic didn’t envy any of them having to deal with the fallout.

‘You can stop here,’ Cleo said suddenly, and Dominic realised they were outside the old Victorian block in which her apartment was situated.

And, when he did so, she pulled a pen and a scrap of paper from her bag and scribbled her mobile-phone number on it.

‘There you are,’ she said. And then, although she didn’t really want to pursue it, she added, ‘Shouldn’t I have some way of getting in touch with you? Just in case I can’t get the time off.’

Dominic’s jaw hardened. But he had to answer her. ‘We’re staying at the Piccadilly Freemont,’ he said flatly. ‘But I’ll be in touch myself in a day or so.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Cleo’s lips twisted. ‘If I speak to your aunt, I won’t say anything to embarrass you.’

‘I doubt you could,’ retorted Dominic shortly, thrusting open the car door.

However, before he could alight, Cleo’s hand on his sleeve arrested him. ‘Stay here,’ she said, the determined pressure of her fingers penetrating his jacket and feeling ridiculously like a hot brand on his forearm. ‘I don’t need an escort into my own house.’

‘OK.’ He slammed the door shut again and forced a mocking smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘I’ll give you a call tomorrow evening.’

‘If you like.’

Cleo pushed open the door and slid out of the car, looping the strap of her bag over her shoulder before slamming the door behind her.

Then, reluctantly aware of how vulnerable she suddenly seemed, Dominic jerked the car into gear and pulled away.

But he knew the frustration he was feeling was unlikely to be expunged by relating his conversation with Cleo to Serena. When he reached the hotel, he eschewed that responsibility and headed rather aggressively into the bar.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘NOT long now.’

Cleo had been gazing out of the aircraft window, mesmerised by the incredible blue of the sea below them. But now she was forced to drag her eyes away and look at Serena Montoya, who’d come to seat herself in the armchair opposite.

‘Really?’ she said, knowing that ‘How exciting!’ or ‘I can’t wait’ would have been more appropriate. But, in all honesty, she didn’t know how she felt.

Serena had changed her clothes, she noticed. The woollen trouser suit she’d worn to board the British Airways jet in London had disappeared, and now she looked cool and relaxed in cotton trousers and a patterned silk shirt.

Cleo wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d had a shower as well. The small bathroom behind the panelled door was very luxurious. Much different from the service facilities supplied on commercial transport.

But then, this wasn’t a commercial aircraft.

After clearing Customs in Nassau, they’d boarded this small executive jet for the short flight to San Clemente. The jet was apparently owned by the Montoya Corporation, which had been another eye-opener for Cleo, who was still recovering from the shock of travelling first class for the first time in her life.

‘Are you looking forward to meeting your grandfather?’ asked Serena casually, and Cleo was instantly aware that her words had attracted Dominic’s attention.

He was seated across the aisle, papers and a laptop computer spread out on the table in front of him. He’d been working almost non-stop since they’d left London, leaving Cleo and Serena to fend for themselves.

Now he cast his aunt a warning look. ‘Leave it, Rena,’ he said sharply and Cleo saw the older woman’s face take on a sulky look.

‘I was only asking a perfectly reasonable question,’ she protested, moving her shoulders agitatedly.

‘I know exactly what you were doing,’ Dominic retorted flatly. ‘Leave her alone. She’ll have to deal with it soon enough.’

Serena made an impatient sound. ‘You make it sound like a punishment,’ she said, flicking a non-existent thread of cotton from her trousers. ‘He is her grandfather, for heaven’s sake.’

‘Rena!’

Serena snorted. ‘Since when have you appointed yourself her champion?’ she demanded. ‘You’ve hardly said a word to either of us since we left London.’

‘I’ve been working.’ Dominic returned his attention to his papers. He shuffled several of them together and stowed them in the briefcase at his side. Then he looked at his aunt again. ‘Why don’t you call Lily and tell her we’ll be landing in about twenty minutes?’

Twenty minutes!

Cleo’s stomach took a dive.

It was all happening far too quickly for her. Despite the nine-hour journey from London, and this subsequent flight to San Clemente, it felt much too soon to be facing their arrival.

‘Why don’t you ring her?’ she heard Serena say, as Cleo struggled to come to terms with this new development. ‘She’s your mother.’

‘And your sister-in-law,’ murmured Dominic mildly, apparently not at all put-out by his aunt’s obvious frustration. ‘But, OK. If you want me to ring her, I will.’

‘No, I’ll do it.’

With a gesture of irritation, Serena sprang up from her seat and disappeared through another door which Cleo knew led into one of the bedrooms. There were phones in this cabin but evidently it was to be a private conversation.

Or a warning?

The pilot had given Cleo a brief tour of the aircraft when she’d first climbed on board. And, as well as this comfortable cabin where they were sitting, there were both double and single bedrooms on the plane. Together with a couple of bathrooms, one of which Cleo had been glad to take advantage of.

‘Don’t mind Serena,’ remarked Dominic now, continuing to gather his papers together. ‘Believe it or not, she’s a little nervous, too.’

Cleo reserved judgement on that, but evidently it wasn’t a problem he suffered from.

She didn’t make any comment, returning her attention to the view. She had to pinch herself at the thought that this was where she’d been born; this was where she actually came from. Was that the reason Henry and Lucille Novak had never shown any desire to come back?

She shivered, but now the distant shapes of several islands were appearing below them. And, as the plane banked to make its approach to the small airport on San Clemente, she saw the wakes of several boats moving purposefully across the sparkling water.

Her stomach hollowed again as the sea seemed to rush up to meet them, and she tried to concentrate on the sails of a large yacht that seemed to be making a run towards the island, too.

‘That looks like Michael Cordy’s yacht,’ observed Dominic suddenly, and she realised he’d come to stand beside her chair and was leaning rather unnervingly towards the window.

It seemed such a reckless thing to do in such a small plane that was already tilting far too much for Cleo’s liking. Her hands sought the leather arms of the chair, gripping so tightly her knuckles whitened, and, as if becoming aware of her anxiety, Dominic dropped down into the seat Serena had vacated.

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