The Passion Price Read Online Free PDF Page A

feet.
    â€˜Jake…’
    The word escaped her lips before she could help it, and her two lady customers immediately looked up at her.
    â€˜You know the guy with the yellow sports car?’ Judith asked, grey eyes narrowed. She was the sharper of the two ladies.
    â€˜No,’ Angelina denied, dismissing the crazy notion that the man could possibly be Jake. ‘But his walk reminded me of someone I used to know.’
    â€˜A sexy someone, I’ll bet.’
    Angelina had to smile. ‘Very.’ She pulled out the cork on the bottle of chilled Verdelho and poured both ladies a full glass. Each one immediately liftedtheir glass to their lips. They did like their wine, those two.
    The emergence of a grey-haired lady from the passenger seat of the Ferrari surprised the three of them.
    â€˜Good lord!’ Judith exclaimed. ‘Not quite what I was expecting. So what do you reckon, girls? His mother? Or do we cast lover boy in the role of gigolo?’
    â€˜Oh, surely not,’ Vivien said with a delicate little shudder.
    â€˜You’re right,’ Judith went on. ‘She’s much too old to be bothered with that kind of thing. But she’s not his mother, either. Too old for that as well. Possibly a great-aunt. Or a client. He might be her financial adviser. She looks as rich as he does.’
    â€˜I’ll leave you two ladies to speculate,’ Angelina said as she placed the bottle in the portable wine cooler by their table. ‘Wilomena will be over shortly to take your orders. Enjoy your meal.’ And your gossiping, she added silently.
    As she made her way back inside, Angelina threw another glimpse over her shoulder at the man and woman who were now walking together along the path that led over the small footbridge, past the outdoor dining area and along to the main door of the restaurant. The hunk was holding the woman’s arm but his head was moving from side to side as though he was looking for something. Or someone.
    Angelina found herself hurrying out of his line of sight, tension gripping her insides. Her actions—plusher sudden anxiety—really irritated her. As if it could possibly be Jake! How fanciful could she get?
    That’s what you get when you start thinking about ghosts from the past, Angelina. You conjure one up!
    She resisted the temptation to watch the hunk’s approach through the picture-glass windows of the restaurant, though she did go straight to the counter where they kept the reservation book, her eyes dropping to run over the names that had been booked for lunch. There was no Winters amongst them.
    Of course not. Why would there be? The hunk just walked like Jake, that was all. OK, so he was built a bit like Jake as well. And he had similar-coloured hair.
    Dark brown hair, however, was hardly unusual. On top of that, this guy’s hair was cropped very short, almost in a military style. Jake had been proud of his long hair. He would never have it cut like that. Not that the short-all-over look didn’t suit the hunk. It was very…macho.
    Jake had been very macho.
    It couldn’t be him, could it?
    Once he came inside and took off those sunglasses, Angelina reassured herself, there would no longer be any doubt in her mind.
    And if he did have eyes like chips of blue ice? came the gut-tightening question. What then? How did you deal with such an appalling coincidence? What sick fate would send him back to her today, of all days?
    The restaurant door opened and Angelina forcedherself to look up from where she was practically hiding behind the front counter.
    The hunk propped the door open with one elbow and ushered his elderly companion in ahead of him. The lady was not so fragile-looking up close, her face unlined and her blue eyes bright with good health. But she had to be seventy, if she was a day.
    And the hunk? It was impossible to tell his age till he took those darned sunglasses off. He could have been anywhere between