* * *
Nikos threw himself into his first-class seat on the plane as they boarded in Hong Kong, relief filling him. Finally he was on his way back to Europe. The typhoon had hit, just as he’d feared, and all flights had been cancelled. Now, though, the delayed flights were resuming and he was headed for London.
But he still didn’t know where Mel was. His investigators had drawn a blank—and in a way he wasn’t surprised. Because how did you locate someone who was one of thousands of tourists?
He’d told the agency about the sandwich bar she’d worked in, in case that might help. Maybe her former employer could shed some light on where she was right now? Hadn’t Mel said that Sarrie was the uncle of a friend of hers?
And there was a possibility that she might be traceable by checking out the former address details of anyone with her surname who had died the previous year in North London, to see if they could locate the address of her late grandfather’s house. If they could, then maybe the estate agents handling the tenancy had contact details for Mel?
With a shake of his head, Nikos waved away the glass of champagne being proffered by the stewardess in First Class, oblivious of the admiring look the attractive brunette had thrown his way. He was oblivious to all females now. Only one in the world mattered to him—the one he was trying to find—the one who was somewhere...wandering the face of the earth...
What if she’s met someone else by now?
That was the fear that bit at him—gnawed at him in the night, when his body ached for Mel to be in his arms...
But he wouldn’t let himself think like that—he wouldn’t. He would hang on to the purpose he’d set for himself: he would find her and put to her the one thing he needed to say.
The one thing it was most vital to him that she knew.
Some twelve hours later Nikos strode out of the long-haul terminal at Heathrow. His car was humming at the kerb and he threw himself in, barely greeting his driver. Flicking open his laptop, he loaded his emails. A surge of triumph welled in him—there was the email he’d been longing to see.
It was from his investigators and it was headed with the magic words: Subject located.
Yes! He all but punched the air even as his finger jabbed at the screen, opening the email. His eyes seized on the words and he started to read.
And then, inside his head, all hell broke loose.
* * *
Mel stepped out on to the pavement, hefting her suitcase out over the doorstop of the flat she had been staying in. It felt heavier than it had used to feel. Maybe the weakness she felt was to do with early pregnancy? Her mind was a blank—it was the only way she could keep going.
She’d booked a flight from Luton to Malaga, and now she had to get to Luton. But first she had a medical appointment. At a clinic that the counsellor at the pregnancy advisory charity had recommended to her and then made an appointment with.
The appointment letter was in her hand and she stared at the address again, trying to decide whether to take a bus or make for the Underground. The bus would be slower, but it would avoid her having to lug her suitcase down the tube station escalators.
She opted for the bus—she’d have enough suitcase-lugging to do once she got to the airport, and then at the other end in Malaga. She’d have to find somewhere to stay the night there...maybe a few days...until she could sort out accommodation and get her head around the new life she was going to make for herself.
One that was going to be so very, very different from what she had thought it was going to be.
But her mind was made up. There was no changing it now.
My baby—my decision. The only way it can be.
The heavy stone was still in her stomach, weighing her down, pushing the ever-present sense of nausea into her gullet. But it wasn’t the physical impact of her pregnancy that was making her feel like this—feel as if she was being crushed to the ground...
She turned to start walking along the pavement towards the bus stop at the end of the road. Her feet dragged as if she was wearing shoes of lead.
The car braking sharply as it slewed towards the kerb made her head whip round. Recognition drew a gasp of disbelief from her. And then dismay.
Raw, shattering dismay.
Nikos was leaping from the car, charging up to her.
Dismay exploded in a million fragments—shot to pieces by the tidal wave of an utterly different emotion that surged across every synapse in her brain, flooding it with its totality.
Nikos! Nikos—here—in the flesh—in front of her—alive and well and real!
Not the hopeless memory in her head that was all he’d been these last endless weeks since she had walked away from him in Bermuda.
But real—oh, so real. How he’d suddenly appeared on the street like this she didn’t know—didn’t care. She knew only that a searing flash of joy was going through her.