Forgotten Lover

‘I’m flattered!’ she laughed at his directness. She liked his candidness, although he was nowhere near as excitingly attractive as the man called Jerard.

Just to think of the other man gave her a shiver down her spine—and it wasn’t one of fear. That surprised her, she hadn’t thought herself that attracted to him. He was the first man she had found remotely interesting since Anthony had died, and she felt a certain amount of resentment towards him for kindling that interest.

‘I hope that scowl isn’t for me,’ the man at her side interrupted her disturbing thoughts.

‘I—No,’ she gave him a dazzling smile. ‘I was thinking of something else.’

‘That isn’t allowed when you’re with me. I’m Greg Boyd, by the way.’

‘And I’m Velvet Dale.’

‘Oh, I know that,’ he grinned. ‘I always know the names of the beautiful women staying at the hotel.’

‘That must be difficult,’ she teased. ‘They all look beautiful.’

Greg shook his head. ‘Pretty, not beautiful. There’s a difference. You’re beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ she accepted the compliment for what it was.

‘Care to join me in a drink?’ he invited.

‘I——’ She gave a brief glance at her wrist-watch. It was already five-thirty, time she went back to her room to prepare for the evening ahead. ‘No, thanks. I have to go now.’

He watched as she stood up and pulled on her wrap. ‘Was it something I said?’ He looked crestfallen.

‘No,’ Velvet laughed at his woebegone expression. ‘I just have an appointment this evening, and I think I should go and get ready.’

‘Just my luck,’ Greg grimaced. ‘It’s my evening off,’ he explained. ‘And I’d been hoping you might join me for dinner.’

‘Maybe another night.’ She picked up her towel and sun-tan oil.

‘I don’t have another night off this week.’

She gave a lightly teasing smile. ‘Then might I suggest another girl?’

He burst out laughing, and stood up too. ‘You’re a little unusual, aren’t you?’ He fell into step beside her as they entered the hotel.

‘Am I?’ she quirked an eyebrow at him.

‘You sure are. I like you, Velvet Dale.’

‘Mrs Velvet Dale,’ she said pointedly.

Greg frowned. ‘You’re married?’

‘Widowed.’

‘At your age?’

She shrugged. ‘It happens. Besides, twenty-two isn’t young any more.’

He pulled a face. ‘What does that make me at thirty?’

‘Ancient!’ She laughed, the laugh dying in her throat as she became aware of piercing blue eyes watching her.

The man called Jerard was walking in the direction of the lift, his fierce gaze fixed savagely on her as she talked to Greg. And he looked furious, so much so that Velvet stayed talking to Greg while the other man got into the lift. She daren’t get in there with him, there was no telling what he would do if she did.

It took ages for the lift to come back down again, but luckily it was now empty. She hoped that man’s room wouldn’t be anywhere near hers.

She hadn’t really brought many evening dresses with her, not realising she would be dining with their important client. She wouldn’t wear anything too daring, at his age she might give him a heart attack. Charles Daniels must be at least seventy by now. No wonder Paul had warned against the black gown—it really was too seductively daring.

The brown one was ideal, attractive without being too revealing. Her hair was newly washed and gleaming, her make-up light and unobtrusive. She looked beautiful enough to make an impression but not to raise the poor man’s blood pressure.

‘Perfect,’ Paul told her when they called for her.

He was looking very distinguished himself in a black evening suit and white shirt, Carly as beautiful as usual in a clinging black gown.

‘How was Ocean World?’ Velvet asked them in the lift on the way up to the penthouse suite.

‘Well?’ Carly looked at Paul for the answer.

‘It was—it was good, very good,’ he admitted grudgingly. ‘Okay, okay,’ he sighed at Carly’s triumphant look, ‘so I enjoyed myself.’

‘You’ll have to go. Velvet,’ the other girl said enthusiastically. ‘If Grouchy here liked it then you know it was good.’

Velvet nodded. ‘I’ll see if I can get there some time tomorrow. I wanted to call my brother this afternoon.’

They stepped out of the lift. ‘How’s Tony?’ Paul enquired.

‘Wrecking the place, as usual,’ she laughed, looking around her appreciatively. ‘This is something, hmm?’

Paul nodded, their surroundings luxurious in the extreme. ‘Wait until you meet our host, he’s more than just something.’

Velvet laughed. ‘Seventy-year-old men don’t really appeal to me.’ Paul frowned. ‘Seventy-year-old——? He isn’t seventy, Velvet.’

‘But Charles Daniels——’

‘Died two years ago. His son’s been in charge ever since.’

She blinked. ‘His son?’

‘Yes, Velvet,’ a man appeared from a room to the left of them, a man with startlingly familiar fierce blue eyes. ‘I took over from my father,’ he confirmed his identity as Charles Daniels’ son.

She went pale. This man was the man who had stopped her in reception earlier, the man who claimed to know her—he was Jerard Daniels! Paul was right, he was more than just something, he was overpowering in the white dinner jacket and black trousers, every inch the powerful businessman he undoubtedly was.

He came forward to take her hand, the intensity of his gaze not allowing for the other couple in the room. ‘We meet again, Velvet,’ he said huskily.

She was mesmerised, held immobile by the intimacy of his expression. ‘I—Yes,’ she confirmed stupidly.