‘No idea.’
‘That’s not very neighbourly.’
‘Owners of remote islands don’t tend to be very neighbourly.’
‘What happens if you run out of sugar?’
‘My housekeeper makes sure I don’t.’
He had answers to everything, thought Phoebe as they headed off the rough land and onto a gravel track. He was wasted in venture capital. He should be in PR.
‘If you value your privacy so highly, why host a party for a hundred people?’
‘No press. Do you have to keep asking questions?’
‘Yup. Sorry. It’s my job.’
‘Perhaps you should be saving your energies for later.’
‘I have plenty of energy,’ she said with a grin, and realised with surprise that it was true. Despite her lack of sleep, Phoebe felt oddly invigorated. It was probably the sea air. Or the thrill of a challenge. Or perhaps the exhilaration of the Jeep ride.
It had nothing whatsoever to do with having spent the best part of the day with Alex.
A shower of gravel flew up as Alex pulled up outside the house and yanked on the handbrake. The sooner he could get away from Phoebe, the better.
Her incessant questioning was driving him nuts. He didn’t want to have to go into detail about when and why he’d bought the island, but any longer and his resistance would crumble under the sheer weight of her persistence.
‘Oh, wow.’
Phoebe was standing up and gazing up at his house, an expression of awe on her face. At least she’d stopped with the bloody questions, he thought grimly, jumping out of the Jeep and striding round to her side. ‘Give me your hand.’
‘This is amazing,’ she said, holding her hands out but still staring up at the house. ‘Did you build it?’
Alex helped her out of the Jeep, set her on her feet and took their luggage out. ‘I designed it. Someone else built it.’
He glanced up. The two-storey glass and steel construction that stood on the edge on the cliff was very different from the glorified shack that had existed when Jo had been recuperating. He’d bought the island primarily for his sister and he’d worked every second to ensure he could do it before she came out of hospital. However it had taken him another couple of years before he’d recouped enough of his previous fortune to build this house.
Memories clamoured at the edges of his brain and Alex ruthlessly pushed them away.
‘It’s fabulous.
The views must be incredible.’
‘Go inside and take a look around. You’re staying in the capital with the rest of the guests. They’re being ferried over and back. But there’s a guest wing here you can use in the meantime to get ready or whatever.’
Phoebe’s eyebrows shot up. ‘If I’m staying with everyone else, why didn’t you leave me there when we passed through earlier?’
Good question, he realised with a start. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. But then that was hardly surprising; the moment they’d boarded his plane rational thought had pretty much given up the ghost and a clamouring awareness of the woman with him had taken over. It had left him feeling unusually on edge. ‘I thought you might like to check things out in preparation for later.’
She nodded and gave him a smile that made him think of sunshine. ‘I would, thanks.’
Alex had had serious doubts about holding a party here. Despite his determination to avoid a repeat of last year, when the event had been held in London and gatecrashed by an extremely creative journalist, the invasion of his privacy and general disruption to what had always been a haven of tranquillity hadn’t appealed in the slightest.
However, right now the hive of activity engulfing the house and gardens was as welcome as the unexpected appearance of a life raft in the wake of a shipwreck, and he had no qualms about clinging to it.
He’d go and see that all the arrangements for this evening were in order. Never mind that Maggie was so efficient he didn’t need to check anything; if he didn’t head off right now he’d be in danger of doing something rash like suggesting a personal guided tour of the bedrooms. He nodded curtly. ‘Then I’ll leave you to it.’
CHAPTER SEVEN