'The one in France. The one living on your family estate, with your children...'
Enlightenment dawned, and suddenly the grey eyes were lit with a mocking brilliance. 'Ah, that wife and family. Beth—who do you think I am?'
'Who do I—? I know who you are.'
'Humour me. Tell me about my wicked self.'
Infuriated, Elizabeth bent to sweep up her camera and leave, but his reactions were lightning-swift.
'Humour me,' he invited her softly, beating her to it and swinging her camera mockingly from its strap.
'You're Jean-Jules Hawkwood. You own this hotel and about two dozen more all over the world,' Elizabeth gritted at him.
'So why do people call me Jack?' he wondered blandly, slurring the first consonant through his teeth.
'I don’t know.' Elizabeth shrugged impatiently. 'I suppose it's just a nickname-'
'Or it could be my actual name,' he drawled.
'I told you—'
'And now I'm telling you. My name is Jacques. Jean-Jacques Hawkwood. I don’t own this hotel. I only manage it. For my brother. My elder brother. Jean-Jules Hawkwood.'
The whispering sea was suddenly a deafening roar in her ears.
'You—you mean you're not——?' she croaked. Her mind went numb as she clutched desperately at straws. 'But—you must be... I saw you—and—Mrs Corvell... she's here with you...'
There was a different kind of stillness about him this time, not of shock but of instant alertness, a brooding suspicion that turned the sunlit grey eyes darkly overcast.
'Serena came as a guest of my brother's, yes—you have that information right,' he confirmed slowly. 'But Jules was called away to New York unexpectedly, and since I was in New Zealand at the time I was the natural person to bring the news back to Serena, who had come on ahead, and to help keep her entertained until Jules arrives... if he arrives.'
Jack had stopped swinging the camera and instead studied it and her with a menacing interest that sent chills down her spine.
‘In fact I swopped my original return flight to Nouméa for Jules's earlier booking, since my Auckland business was concluded anyway. We even went out to the airport together—his plane to New York was taking off half an hour after ours. Maybe that was where you got us mixed up—we look very much alike so I'm told... possibly someone pointed out the wrong man to you, hmm?'
So rattled was she that she almost fell into that one. Just in time she saw the jaws of the trap. 'I just assumed ... I guess I made a mistake...'
'And a very revealing one,' he murmured to her dismay. 'Do I take it, Beth, that you're going to suddenly lose your deliciously intense interest in me now that you've discovered that I'm not my extremely rich and influential—not to mention married—elder brother?'
Elizabeth knew when to quit. But that didn’t stop her wanting to have the last word.
‘I’m not interested in you or your brother,' she said frostily, realising with delight that she was now off the hook where Uncle Simon was concerned. Relief made her final line haughtily smug.
'All I'm interested in is the fact that your ridiculous attitude is going to make me late for lunch. And since you've probably damaged a valuable camera by your actions this morning I'll expect to receive an appropriate refund on my bill. I'm sure, seeing as you're the hotel manager, it's the least you can do!'
CHAPTER SIX
‘I CAN’T possibly stay here!'
The young Melanesian staffer lost his wide, ingratiating smile as he set down Elizabeth's suitcase.
'There is nowhere else. The hotel is full.'
'What about staff quarters?'
Now she had offended him. 'We couldn’t put up a guest in staff accommodation!'
The personal residence of the manager was obviously in a totally different category.