She had this persistent feeling that someone was staring at her. She did not like it. The hot tradewind blowing across the wild, mountainous island of St Lucia combed through her unruly chestnut hair and covered her face with strands of confusion.
Kira turned slowly on one heel, her lame leg resting against the gate which confined passengers to the transit lounge. The muscles were aching and she was disconcerted by the eyes that felt as if they were burning into her back.
Head and shoulders above the crowd, far across on the other side of the crowded lounge, stood a tall man in an expensively-tailored business suit, the jacket unbuttoned. He wore a wide-brimmed hat pulled low on his forehead. Kira could feel the magnetism of his eyes, forcing her to look at him.
She caught the glint of a gold watch chain worn across a double-breasted waistcoat. How could he wear a waistcoat in this heat? He touched the brim of his hat in a mock salute.
Damn him, she thought, she didn’t need or seek a pick-up. It was the last thing she wanted now or ever. She deliberately turned her back.
But she could feel the man moving towards her. It was uncanny, something to do with the long flight, the sultry darkness and the unaccustomed heat of the velvety Caribbean night.
A quiver of apprehension ran through her body in those moments, a sudden corruption of the past as the man’s stride slowed into the slow-motion of a dream.
He had thrown her a long challenging look that was almost overpowering. Memories which she had tried to suppress were surging back through her mind. Why had this man’s glinting eyes begun to peel back layers which she had successfully kept hidden from the world?
Three men had nearly destroyed her life. Grandfather Benjamin Reed, ex-fiancé Bruce, and Percival Connor MP. They had each sent her reeling into a corner. Now, rid of them all, Kira Reed was back on keel, going to be herself, live out her own life.