The Darkest of Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page B

sexy. She was as prickly as a sea urchin, and might as well have had do not touch emblazoned on her forehead.
    Yet he did want to touch her, had wanted it from the moment those gorgeous legs had entered his vision when he’d completed his lap in the pool. He hadn’t been able to resist when they’d been in the vault, and her reaction to his taking her hand had surprised, he thought, both of them.
    She was certainly a woman of secrets. He sensed her coiled tension, even her fear. Something about this island—about him—made her nervous. Of course, on the most basic level he could hardly blame her. From the outside, Alhaja Island looked like a prison. And he was a stranger, the son of a man whose ruthless exploits had been whispered about if not proved. Even so, he didn’t think her fear was directed simply at him, but something greater. Something, Khalis suspected, that had held her in its thrall for a while.
    Or was he simply projecting his own emotions onto this mysterious and intriguing woman? For he recognised his own fear. He hated being back on Alhaja, hated the memories that rose to the forefront of his mind like scum on the surface of a pond.
    Get used to it, Khalis. This is how it is done.
    Don’t leave me here, Khalis.
    I’ll come back … I promise.
    Abruptly he rose from his chair, prowled the length of his study with an edgy restlessness. He’d resolutely banished those voices for fifteen years, yet they’d all come rushing back, taunting and tormenting him from the moment he’d stepped on this wretched shore. Despite Eric’s tactful suggestion that he set up a base of operations in any number of cities where his father had had offices, Khalis had refused.
    He’d run from this island once. He wasn’t going to do it again.
    And at least the enigmatic and attractive Grace Turner provided a welcome distraction from the agony of his own thoughts.
    ‘Khalis?’ He glanced up and saw Eric standing in the doorway. ‘Dinner is served.’
    ‘Thank you.’ Khalis slid Grace’s business card into the inside pocket of the dark grey blazer he’d put on. He felt a pleasurable tingle of anticipation at the thought of seeing the all too fascinating Ms Turner again, and firmly pushed away his dark thoughts once and for all. There was, he’d long ago decided, never any point in looking back.
    He’d ordered dinner to be served on a private terrace of the compound’s interior courtyard, and the intimate space flickered with torchlight as Khalis strolled up to the table. Grace had not yet arrived and he took the liberty of pouring a glass of wine for each of them. He’d just finished when he heard the click of her heels, felt a prickle of awareness at her nearness. Smiling, he turned.
    ‘Ms Turner.’
    ‘If you insist on my calling you Khalis, then you must call me Grace.’
    He inclined his head, more gratified than he should be at her concession. ‘Thank you … Grace.’
    She stepped into the courtyard, the torchlight casting her into flickering light and wraith-like shadow. She looked magnificent. She’d kept her hair up in its businesslike coil, but had exchanged her work day attire for a simple sheath dress in chocolate-brown silk. On another woman the dress might have looked like a paper sack but on Grace it clung to her curves and shimmered when she moved. He suspected she’d chosen the dress for its supposed modesty, and the fact that she had little idea how stunning she looked only added to her allure. He realised he was staring and reached for one of the glasses on the table. ‘Wine?’
    A hesitation, her body tensing for a fraction of a second before she held out one slender arm. ‘Thank you.’
    They sipped the wine in silence for a moment, the night soft all around them. In the distance Khalis heard the whisper of the waves, the wind rustling the palm trees overhead. ‘I’d offer a toast, but the occasion doesn’t seem quite appropriate.’
    ‘No.’ Grace lowered her glass, her slim