Deception

by Gill Sanderson

Genres: General Fiction; Contemporary Romance; Medical Romance; Workplace Romance

Synopsis

Alex Ivanovich is intrigued by the strange, watchful behaviour of a new guest in his holiday-resort hotel. And his interest turns to shock when he sees her face because ? apart from her hair colour ? she is the image of his dead wife. Which could be really very useful, if she agrees. Tania Baird is in Majorca for one reason and one reason only ? to snatch her niece back from her sister?s erstwhile mother-in-law. The trouble is she hasn?t the faintest idea how to do it. Alex is rich and powerful. He offers to help Tania retrieve the child and get her safely back to her mother in England. But there is a price. Can Tania pretend to be Alex?s wife for two months ? with all the intimacy that involves ? and not compromise her own heart while she does it?

Release date: October 15, 2016

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 234

Sample

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A man had taken her place, was lying on her sunbed. She didn’t believe it!

It was early morning; there was no sign of life from the six stories of the Aphrodite Beach Hotel behind her. In front of her, the pool was a still blue mirror. The sunbeds were unoccupied, arrayed neatly under the shade of palms and umbrellas; the three bars were shut. In an hour or so she knew that the first keen ones would start to trickle down, those who wanted a swim before breakfast. But now there was no one within sight.

Deliberately, she had come down early to reserve this particular spot. She had done so every morning since she had arrived five days ago. This sunbed, in this corner of the pool, was the only place she could see into the villa across the pool.

The man would have to move. She’d done what was usually considered necessary to reserve a place. She had draped her towel over the bed, had placed her beach bag by its side. Then, just for five minutes, she had gone to fetch a bottle of mineral water from the machine. And now her towel was thrown onto the next sunbed. There was a pair of disreputable-looking trainers by the side of her bag. And a man was lying, face downwards, on her bed.

Angrily, Tania kicked a stone off the path. She had enough troubles without this. He was a large man, with thick dark hair. He was wearing dusty black shorts, a well-worn grey T-shirt, not the usual smart gear she saw by the poolside of this upmarket hotel. His body looked fit, muscular. Just for as moment apprehension flickered through her, who was this man?

But then she spotted the watch on his wrist, the discreet gunmetal casing. That meant money – he was just another rich holidaymaker. Well, he’d have to move.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, not trying too hard to hide her irritation, ‘but I think you’re lying on my sunbed.’

There was no answer. But she saw the powerful muscles of his shoulder hunch and relax – he had heard her all right.

She waited a moment and then repeated, slightly more loudly, ‘I said you’re lying on my sunbed.’

‘I heard you the first time,’ a deep voice muttered. ‘Now go away and let me sleep.’

He made no effort to move and Tania’s irritation was now turning to anger.

‘I came down early because I wanted this particular place,’ she said. ‘I put my towel on the bed, which usually indicates to most people that I’d be coming back here. Now it would be the action of a gentleman to move.’

This provoked some reaction. The man rolled onto his side, squinted at her and then raised his hand to shade his eyes. He waved at the rows of empty sunbeds.

‘Lady, there are plenty of beds there. Why d’you have to pick the one I’m sleeping on? And incidentally, I’m too tired and it’s too early in the morning to have to listen to a lecture on the possible actions of a gentleman.’

Then his head dropped to the sunbed again.

Listening to, understanding voices was part of Tania’s trade. First, the accent. English was not this man’s native tongue – but she wasn’t sure what was. And she noted the half-slurred words, registered that the man was really tired. But surely not too tired to walk another few feet to the next sunbed?

‘I don’t like being referred to as “Lady”,’ she said. ‘And I have no wish to lecture you, or indeed ever speak to you again. If you could just let me have my sunbed back then I ...’

‘No,’ he said.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have done it. But she didn’t like being interrupted. She didn’t like ill-mannered men – in fact, at the moment she didn’t much like men at all. And the last few weeks – the last few days – had been particularly stressful. But perhaps she shouldn’t have done it.

She knew she had a temper. She had spent many of her twenty-eight years trying to control it. Usually she succeeded. But this, this man was going too far.

‘You’re not going to move?’ she said. ‘Please? For the last time?’

People who knew her well would have been wary of her calmness, the apparent sweetness of her voice.

A muffled voice said, ‘I am not going to move.’

She stooped and carefully placed her bottle of water on a little wall. The she seized the bottom of the sunbed, put her weight behind it and pushed. The metal legs squeaked on the tiles. There was just time for the man to call out, ‘What the ...’ before the sunbed, complete with its occupant, tipped gracefully into the pool. There was a splash. Ripples spread across the blue water.

Tania stepped back and smiled. She knew she had done something totally disgraceful. But, for the moment, she loved it!

Probably now there would be accusations, an argument. He would feel that his manhood had been called into question; he had been made to look small by, of all things, a woman. He would want revenge. She put her hands on her hips and waited. The last two years had taught her one thing. Don’t back down in front of a man. If he wanted confrontation, he could have it. So she waited.

After a moment she frowned. She had expected that he would climb out of the pool at once to scream and shout at the woman who had so dared to offend him. But there was no sound, no sight of him. Had she pushed an ill man into the pool? Was he drowning? Uneasily, she walked to the edge of the water.

The sunbed was there, upended, its red and grey cushions contrasting with the blue of the water. Tania reached, managed to pull it out. But there was no sign of the man.

Perplexed, and now a little worried, she stared around her. And then she saw him. Under the water, a figure was swimming steadily towards the far end of the pool. She could see the black and grey of his clothes, the powerful movement of his limbs. He reached the far side of the pool, there was a ripple as he turned and started back towards her – still without coming to the surface to take a breath. He must be super fit. She felt apprehensive again.

He reached the edge of the pool. She heard the splash as his head surfaced, heard the gasp for air. Then there were two hands on the pool edge and with one powerful movement he heaved himself out of the water. He took two steps forward and faced her.

She pulled her wide-brimmed straw hat even further down her face, settled her sunglasses firmly in place. Then she stood there in her white bikini and prepared to do battle.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said. ‘You’re thinking that you’re a great hulking male and I’m just a woman and you’ll get your revenge by sweeping me up in your arms and throwing me into the water. Right?’

He stood there calmly, water dripping from his hair, his wet clothes clinging to him and said, ‘I can see that would be a possible – even an enjoyable – reaction.’

This was not the answer that she had expected. But she went on, ‘Well forget it. If you lay so much as a finger on me I’ll scream so loud that I’ll wake every sleeping person in this hotel. And what they’ll see when they appear on their balconies, I don’t want to tell you.’

‘I can imagine. Or rather, I can’t imagine and don’t want to. Please don’t worry. If ever I sweep you up into my arms, the last thing I would want to do is throw you into the water.’

The cheek of the man! But his answer had confused her. She had expected a fight and he was paying her a compliment. Well, she didn’t want compliments either – especially slightly sexual ones. She just wanted this episode over with, wanted to get back to her usual place, get on with the job she was here to do. But ... ‘Why did you swim across the pool underwater?’ she asked.

‘You gave me a shock. Having an untimely swim was the last thing I expected. I was angry so I decided to do something to calm myself. People who lose their tempers often act foolishly.’

‘So you never act foolishly?’

‘Never.’ His answer was flat and uncompromising.

She muttered, ‘I’m afraid I did rather lose my temper. I suppose I ought to be sorry. But I always have this place and I ... look, let’s just forget it shall we?’

‘I doubt I shall forget it. But if you mean do I feel in any need of revenge of any kind, the answer is no. I think I must apologize. I was tired, my words and actions were perhaps ... ill- mannered.’

‘It was the lack of action that got to me,’ Tania said. Then she sighed. She really must try to think before she spoke. This man had been courteous and she was acting gracelessly. Then she saw him smiling at her and she felt irritated again.

He crossed his arms, pulled his wet T-shirt over his head. She already knew that he was tall, well-muscled, fit. But the simple act of taking off his shirt made her aware of him as a man.

There was a tone to his suntanned body that suggested he could have been from any of the Mediterranean islands. But his face contradicted that. His eyes weren’t the warm brown of most of the locals. Instead they were grey – so pale grey as to be almost silver. And they had an almost hypnotic stillness. When she looked into his eyes she felt her anger dissolving, felt that all her concerns were unimportant. If he wanted he could ...

She jerked herself awake, forced herself to look at him as dispassionately as he was now was studying her. What was so different about his face? There was a slant to his eyes, the set of his lips was determined, his cheekbones high. There was wildness there, perhaps cruelty, an absolute determination to have his own way ... she had it! A painting she had seen in the Hermitage in St Petersburg. This man was Russian. Without thinking she said ‘Izvinite,’ – the Russian for ‘excuse me.’

She was right about the wildness. She could have sworn that not a muscle in his face changed and yet suddenly there was an anger there, an intensity that blazed from those silver eyes that terrified her. And then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

‘Vy govorite po-russki?’

She could understand; he had asked her if she could speak Russian. But she didn’t intend to reply to him in that language. Learning Russian had just been a hobby with her; she felt at a disadvantage trying to talk to someone who obviously spoke it as a native.

‘I know a little,’ she said in English. ‘I taught myself because I was ... interested.’

‘You taught yourself because you were interested. An odd interest for a young girl.’

‘It is not. First, I am not a “young girl”. Secondly, there is nothing odd about an interest in languages.’

‘Of course not. But why did you speak to me in Russian?’

She wasn’t going to say that she recognised the Slav in him. It might make him think she was interested in him. And she wasn’t. She couldn’t allow herself to be interested in any man.

‘It just slipped out. I was looking at a textbook last night and I was remembering a few phrases.’

She could tell he didn’t believe her.

‘Quite so,’ he said, smiling.

Somehow she seemed to have started on a conversation and she wanted to end it. She wasn’t here to indulge in idle chatter with anyone, much less a striking looking man like this one. Abruptly she said, ‘Well, once again, I’m sorry for pushing you into the water.’

‘It is of no consequence. It was a bad place to go to sleep and my little swim has wakened me. I shall now go to my room, shower and sleep in a proper bed. My name incidentally is Alex. And you are ...?’

It was discourteous but she had to stop this at once. The last thing she needed was a male acquaintance. Her voice curt, she said, ‘I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other so names are not important. Good morning.’

‘As you wish. Good morning.’

He bowed and for a moment she felt guilty. Nervously, she took off her sunglasses, took off her hat and shook out her auburn hair. She realised then that this was the first time he had seen her properly; her face had been hidden behind her sunglasses, behind the shade of the wide brim of her hat. He looked down at her, his expression calm and casual as before – and then it changed. The smile disappeared, the silver eyes widened in shock, the lips stretched in a grimace. She saw that, although he was motionless, the muscles of his arms and torso were tensed, as if for fight or flight. He stared at her with an intensity that was frightening. What had shaken him so much?

She could tell that he was fighting to regain control and slowly his muscles relaxed, his face took on its previous urbane calm. ‘I shall remember that you think that names are not important,’ he said. ‘But who knows? Perhaps we will have more to say to each other.’ Then he turned and walked back to the hotel.

Feeling rather shaken, Tania sat on the little wall. Why had this man been so affected by her face? Without false modesty, she knew that she could be considered attractive. Men had told her so in the past. But this was obviously a sophisticated man and very attractive in his own right. Tania herself had felt the attraction – she guessed that this man could have his pick of women. So what was so special about her face?

She shrugged. This was not her problem.

She pushed the wet sunbed to where it would dry in the sun. Then she carefully positioned another sunbed so that it commanded exactly the view she needed. By her side was . . .