Page 3 of His Last Gamble

‘No. No, of course not,’ she denied.

But even as she spoke, she was aware that this Adonis of a man, this gorgeous blond giant, knew that she was lying. He looked at her, a slightly puzzled expression pulling his dark brows together.

‘Youareone of the models doing a shoot over here, aren’t you?’ he said, making her stiffen in sudden alarm.

‘Yes. How did you know?’ she asked, far more sharply than she’d meant to.

The stranger grinned sardonically. ‘Did you think it was a big secret or something? The whole island — well, this part of it anyway — knows that some models from England are doing a fashion shoot on the beach here and up at the casino.’

‘Oh,’ she said, feeling somewhat deflated. Yes, that made sense. Certainly Payne Lacey would have been at pains to make sure that everybody knew about it. For wasn’t it just one more feather in his cap? Owning a place coveted by a top-ranking fashion house?

‘For a fashion model you sure are jumpy,’ the gardener said, distracting her dark thoughts and replacing them once again with fear.

Was she so obviously a phoney? So much of a fraud that even a humble gardener could spot her weakness?

‘What do you mean?’ she said, trying to inject some scorn into her voice, some world-weary cynicism.

Those arctic ocean eyes swept over her again, and a dismissive grin made her blood begin to simmer. ‘Forget it,’ he said casually, reaching down once more for the shears.

‘No,’ she insisted. ‘I mean it. What did you mean by that crack? I’m not jumpy.’ Not much!

He glanced back across at her from his contemplation of the hedge. ‘No? Then why are you acting like a virgin who’s just wandered by mistake into an orgy?’

Charmaine blinked. ‘Wh-what did you just say?’ she stuttered. She couldn’t have heard him right.

Could she?

‘You see,’ he said, grinning again, shaking his head as if she was providing him with no end of entertainment. ‘You looked shocked to the core. And here I was, thinking all fashion models were hard-as-nails, seen-it-all, done-it-all women of the world.’

Charmaine felt her cheeks flame, and groaned inwardly. Oh no. Not now. Why did she have to be so cursed with shyness? All her life, she’d battled an almost paralysing bashfulness.

And besides, he was right. Shewasworlds away from the other models currently sleeping off jetlag back at the hotel. From their conversation on the flight over, she knew that most of them were exactly as this aggravating blond giant had described. Strong, sophisticated, sexually confident young women. A world away from herself. She’d never even taken a lover yet. And everybody knew that twenty-four was ridiculously old to still be a virgin.

How was she ever going to convince someone like Payne Lacey that she belonged in his world of gambling, champagne, high living and sexual conquest if she couldn’t even fool a gardener?

The blond stranger watched, fascinated, as her colour ebbed and flowed. Her remarkable blue eyes darkened, became shadows. He watched her exquisite shoulders actually begin to droop.

When he’d first turned and seen her, he’d been stunned. Literally. He’d felt like the proverbial mullet, zapped with a lightning bolt. But not for the world would he have shown it. Faking more interest in the rare shrub he was pruning than her own far more beautiful self had simply given him the means to get himself under control.

It hadn’t taken him two seconds to figure out she must be one of the models from England. Nobody but a fashion model for a firm as prestigious as Jonniee could look half so gorgeous. That elegant sarong dress, that silver hair, those eyes set in such a perfect face.

And that sort of trouble he could do without.

Now, though, as he watched her blush, he wondered just what in the hell was going on. Since when did women as beautiful as this one, with the world at their feet, act like a Victorian maiden being propositioned by a rascally footman?

‘This is my first shoot,’ he heard her say, somewhat forlornly, and glanced at her sharply. Was she kidding? No, he realised, a moment later, she wasn’t. As incredible as it seemed, she looked unsure of herself. Ah. So that explained it. She was just a baby piranha in the making and not a fully-fledged member of the shark club yet.

He felt himself smiling cynically. But once she saw herself on the front cover ofVogue, once playboys driving Ferraris fell over themselves to take her out to dine in Paris, and men fought to buy her the biggest diamonds, then things would be different.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll ace it,’ he said starkly, and although the words should have comforted her, somehow they didn’t.

Hopelessly confused, she merely smiled uncertainly. ‘I hope so.’ A lot depended on it. And besides, she owed it to Jo-Jo not to entirely mess up his shoot.

‘I hear it’s really nice inside there. Mr Lacey’s supposed to have spent millions on it,’ she said instead, steering the conversation to where she needed it to go. Not that she expected a mere gardener to be able to tell her much. Why, Charmaine thought, indignant on his behalf, she’d bet her year’s salary that this man had never even seen inside it.

‘So they say,’ he confirmed wryly, fascinated by the play of emotions that crossed her face.

Just then, a man turned down the path towards them. Dressed in a white linen tropical suit, a natty Panama hat and casual Gucci loafers, he looked a typical Palace candidate.

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