In the Australian's Bed: The Passion Price / The Australian's Convenient Bride / The Australian's Marriage Demand

‘Damn you, Jake,’ she muttered as she stood up and marched across her bedroom towards her en suite bathroom. ‘Sixteen years, and you’re still causing me trouble!’

CHAPTER THREE

THE yellow Ferrari caught Angelina’s eye the moment it turned from the main road into the Ambrosia Estate. She stopped what she was doing—opening a bottle of wine at one of the outdoor tables—and watched the brightly coloured sports car crunch to a halt in the nearby car park, her lips pursing into a silent whistle when a dark-haired hunk in designer jeans, pale blue polo shirt and wraparound sunglasses climbed out from behind the wheel.

What a gorgeous-looking guy!

Angelina’s gaze shifted over to the passenger side. She could see another person sitting in the car but couldn’t make out any details. The sun was shining on the windscreen. But Angelina was willing to bet on it being a pretty blonde. Men like that invariably had pretty blondes on their arms.

The hunk hitched his jeans up onto his hips as hunks often did. Not because his clothes really needed straightening, she’d come to realise during her recent people-watching years. It was a subconscious body-language thing, a ploy to draw female attention to that part of his body.

And it worked. Angelina certainly looked, as did the two middle-aged ladies she was serving. Both widows, their names were Judith and Vivien. They were on holiday together and had been staying at the Ambrosia Estate for a few days.

‘Cocky devil,’ Judith said with a wry smile in her voice when the hunk started striding round the front of the yellow Ferrari in the direction of the passenger side.

‘He has every right to be,’ Vivien remarked. ‘Just look at that car.’

Judith snorted. ‘Don’t you mean, just look at that body?’

Angelina had actually stopped looking at the hunk’s broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, long-legged body and was frowning over his walk. It was a most distinctive walk, somewhere between a strut and a swagger. He moved as if he was bouncing along on the balls of his feet.

‘Jake…’

The word escaped her lips before she could help it, and her two lady customers immediately looked up at her.

‘You know the guy with the yellow sports car?’ Judith asked, grey eyes narrowed. She was the sharper of the two ladies.

‘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.’

‘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 lifted their 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.

‘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?’

‘Oh, surely not,’ Vivien said with a delicate little shudder.

‘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.’

‘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—plus her 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 forced herself 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 twenty-five and forty, although there was an air of self-assurance about him that suggested he’d been around a while.

The grey-haired lady stepped up to the counter first. ‘I made a booking for two for twelve-thirty,’ she said with a sweet smile. ‘The name’s Landsdale. Mrs Landsdale.’

Angelina was highly conscious of the hunk standing at the lady’s shoulder. Was he staring at her from behind those opaque shades? It felt as if he was.

‘Yes, I have your booking here, Mrs Landsdale,’ she replied, proud of herself for sounding so polite and professional in the face of the tension that was building inside her. ‘Would you like to dine inside, or alfresco? It’s really lovely outside today. No wind. Not too hot. And not too many flies.’

The lady’s smile widened. ‘Alfresco sounds wonderful. What do you think, Jake? Shall we sit outside?’

Angelina froze. Had she heard correctly? Had the woman really said that name?

Angelina stared, open-mouthed, as he finally took off his sunglasses, her whole world tipping on its axis.

It was him. Those eyes could not possibly belong to anyone else.

‘Jake,’ she blurted out whilst her head whirled with the incredibility of this scenario.

‘Hello, Angelina,’ he said in the same richly masculine voice he’d already had at seventeen. ‘I’m surprised you recognised me after all these years.’

If it hadn’t been for the eyes, she might not have. He was nothing like the boy she remembered, or the man she’d imagined he might have become. This Jake was smooth and suave and sophisticated. More handsome than ever and obviously no longer underprivileged.

‘Goodness, you mean this is Angelina,’ the grey-haired lady piped up before Angelina could find a suitable reply. ‘Jake, you naughty boy. Why didn’t you say something earlier?’

He lifted his broad shoulders in an elegant shrug. ‘I spotted her through the windows, and decided if she didn’t recognise me back I wouldn’t embarrass her by saying anything.’

Well, at least that meant he hadn’t deliberately come looking for her, Angelina realised with some relief. Still, this was an amazing coincidence, given she’d been thinking about him all morning. She could feel herself trembling inside with shock.

‘I—er—didn’t recognise you till you took off your sunglasses,’ she admitted whilst she struggled to pull herself together. Think, girl.

‘You do have very distinctive eyes, Jake,’ she added, bracing herself to look into them once more. This time she managed without that ridiculous jolt to her heart.