Nadine obediently began again, concentrating on her work so fiercely that she forgot Sean, forgot the others in the room, Luc talking to another student, the sound of the sea. All she thought about was what she was doing.
When Luc clapped his hands she almost jumped out of her skin. He was standing in front of the class now. 'Time to break!' he told them all cheerfully. 'I don't know about you but I'm starving, and I happen to know it's a very good lunch today: my wife is serving local crabs stuffed with peppers and herbs, and there's a gorgeous crab gumbo...'
'What's a gumbo?' asked the dark girl next to Nadine, and Luc grinned at her.
'Something between a thick soup and a stew. Quite hot, made with a lot of garlic and hot peppers, and spices and herbs. I love it, but it can be an acquired taste. If you like curry, you'll probably like gumbo. And I expect my wife will have made peas and rice, that's usually on the menu. It's one of the most famous Jamaican dishes, but my wife grew up there, so she likes to cook it. There'll be a selection of salads for the less adventurous among you, and the vegetarians have their own menu, too. But take my advice, try one of our local dishes. I can guarantee you'll love them.'
Nadine went back to her room before lunch, tense as she unlocked the door, half expecting to find Sean there waiting for her. The suite was empty, though, and immaculate; the maids had cleaned it and there was no sign of Sean or his luggage. Even his toothbrush had vanished from the bathroom.
She should have felt relieved, much happier. But she didn't. She felt faintly depressed instead. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, grimacing at her pallor and the dullness of her eyes. She was tired, that was all! Her sudden depression had nothing to do with Sean. Nothing at all.
She still continued to brood over him as she washed and changed out of her shorts and top, put on a brief yellow tunic dress. Had he left the hotel, or left the island altogether? Had he found somewhere else to stay?
She brushed her hair out, put on a light foundation cream, a touch of lipstick, before going down to the long terrace which ran behind the hotel. Tables were set out there, under a bamboo roof, through which the sunlight filtered, leaving a slatted pattern of shadow.
She seemed to be the last one down; all her fellow students were seated already and Nadine looked around for a free chair.
Luc beckoned. 'We've kept a place for you here, Nadine! Next to your husband.'
She froze, seeing the all too familiar bronzed face* meeting Sean's mocking blue eyes. So he hadn't left either the island or the hotel! Had he been able to get a room in the hotel? And if so, what on earth had he told Luc Haines? What excuse had he given for not sharing her room? Or was he still planning to share it? Well, he could think again if he was! She was not sharing a bed with him again. She would rather take the next plane back to England.
'Here you are,' he insisted, getting up and holding back the chair next to his own. 'Sit down, Nadine. I can recommend the crab salad, it's the best crab I've ever eaten, and the salad is positively inspired.'
With everyone watching her she had no option. She sat down, but gave Sean a bitter look from under her lowered lashes. If he thought he had her beaten he was going to find out just how wrong he was!
He caught her hidden glance and his mouth twitched. He leaned over to pour wine into her glass, and she was intensely aware of the brush of his lean body.
'You look as if you need a drink, darling! You'll like this—a Californian Chardonnay; a nice, crisp white, very refreshing on a hot day like this!'
Nadine snatched up the menu and read it, trembling with a mixture of rage and nerves. She ordered plain grilled fish with salad, and Luc Haines shook his head at her.
'You can eat that anywhere! You mustn't be scared to try something new, Nadine, must she, Sean?'
'She always has been!' Sean shrugged, and Luc gave her a wry look.
'Remember what I was saying to you in class this morning! If you want to learn to paint you've got to be brave, take risks; and that goes for life, too. Now, why don't you have the crab gumbo to start with?'
Infuriated, she said, 'Oh, OK, I'll try the crab gumbo, but then I'll have plain grilled fish, please!'
The waiter grinned at Luc and vanished to the kitchen. Nadine drank some of the white wine. Sean was right: it was refreshing. She watched him sideways; he was eating stuffed crab neatly, with enjoyment.
Luc's voice made her jump. 'Naughty Nadine,' he said wickedly. 'Now we know why you didn't want to tell us anything about yourself. Trying to be incognito, weren't you? Well, we forgive you— it must be quite a trial being the wife of such a famous man. I'm afraid the secret was out as soon as Sean met my wife this morning. She's a big film buff and a big fan of his films; she could hardly speak when she saw Sean walking across Reception this morning.'
'Your wife is a honey,' Sean said. 'Lucky for us that she's a film buff, Nadine—she was able to give us a second room, next door to the suite...'
Nadine tensed, turning a pair of glittering, angry eyes on him, and Sean gave her a sunny smile.
'She was quite horrified when I explained how often I would have to make phone calls in the middle of the night, which usually meant waking you up too. This time difference is a nuisance, but in my business the telephone is a lifeline. And Clarrie Haines was good enough to get me this other room.'
'One of our American guests is leaving tonight,' Luc told her cheerfully. 'Sean can have the room as soon as it has been cleaned. We'll get that done by eight. So you won't be kept awake tonight with Sean's international phone calls.'
'Isn't that wonderful news, darling?' Sean asked softly.
'Wonderful,' she said, smiling although her jaws were aching with the effort not to scream. How did he do it? He always got his own way somehow— that was what made him such a great film producer and director. Whenever he met an obstacle he managed to get over it, whatever the cost to himself and everyone around him.
It was a relief when her crab gumbo arrived and she could turn her attention to the food. As Luc had promised, it was hot and spicy, and the crab was the best she had ever eaten. While she ate Luc and Sean talked and the other guests listened with obvious fascination.
They weren't talking about films, though; they were involved in a long discussion about painters. Sean had a small collection of modern art: a Picasso sketch given to him by a French actor for his birthday years ago, a Lowry he had bought himself, a Beryl Cook painting of her usual plump ladies, this time playing tennis on a summer day, their white outfits dazzling against the dark green of bushes and trees.