‘I got involved with the project, simple as that.’ He brought over two plates of food. Pasta, some sort of tomato sauce smothered in cheese, chunks of bread, butter. It smelled delicious and, when Rose hungrily tucked into it, tasted as good as it smelled.
‘You get involved with all your projects,’ she pointed out. ‘This tastes great, by the way.’
‘Glad you think so,’ Gabriel said dryly. ‘Appreciate it, though. I don’t make a habit of cooking for women.’
Rose thought that that was stating the glaringly obvious. Home-cooked meals were on a par with domesticity and domesticity was not something he liked his girlfriends to experience. Fun, yes. Excitement, yes. Domesticity, absolutely no way.
‘You were telling me why you changed your mind on this project.’
‘We ran into problems about two months ago with the design. I sacked the architect working on it and decided to give it a go myself.’
‘Because you’re a qualified architect?’
‘Because I…’ Gabriel looked at her, fork in one hand.
‘Because you…?’ Rose’s gaze was curious.
‘I have a degree in engineering.’ Gabriel shrugged. ‘And art was always something I rather…liked…Or is that not a very macho admission…?’
‘It’s an extremely macho admission.’ Rose could feel her mouth go dry as their eyes met. ‘Don’t you know that there’s nothing sexier than a sensitive man?’
‘Is that your way of telling me that you find me sexy?’
‘It’s my way of saying that art is a wonderful thing to be interested in.’ She could feel herself perspiring as his eyes roamed over her flushed face. ‘I…I know you like art. I just never realised that you enjoyed it in a practical manner…’
‘Art was one of my A levels. Along with maths, French and physics.’
‘So you could have been a painter…’
‘Not quite.’ Gabriel shot her a crooked smile. ‘I lacked the creativity, but combined with my maths, and later my engineering degree, I discovered it could be quite practical when it came to design. Of course, there was no place for that in the world of corporate business, but it certainly came into its own when I sacked Jones from this project.’
Rose hadn’t realised that she had finished eating until Gabriel rose and took the plate from her, ordering her to sit down while he tidied. After all, he pointed out, she was there out of the goodness of her heart.
‘So all of this…is your creation?’
‘Most of it. What do you think?’
‘Well, I suppose we all need to do something in our spare time,’ Rose said prosaically as he seemed in danger of letting her interest go straight to his already oversized ego. ‘Tell me about it.’
Rose forgot that she was hot, tired and sticky. Gabriel cleared away the dishes while she sat at the table and hung on to his every word. By the time he had made her a cup of coffee, with long life milk because there was no fresh milk on the island, she was living his dream for the project, wanted to see it eventually as a sprawling ranch-style villa that could accommodate all the members of his extended family, and the rest.
She wanted to ask whether his vision included his own family and kids, but that would have been a question too far.
‘Tomorrow’s a big day,’ Gabriel said in conclusion, after Rose had bombarded him with every question under the sun. ‘If the hurricane’s going to strike, it’ll strike within the next twenty-four hours. We should both think about getting some sleep.’
Rose felt stiff when she stood up. ‘I shall need to have a wash or a shower. Is everything plumbed in?’
‘Plumbed in and raring to go. As I said, the hold-ups have been irritating and lengthy but the basics are in, which is a blessing.’
He had advised her to bring her own towel, which she thankfully had, and her own soap. Also lots of mosquito repellent. There were no beds, just mattresses on the ground, which had been brought in specially for them. The workmen would use them afterwards, Gabriel assured her, so they wouldn’t go to waste. And there was also electricity, although he warned her to expect nothing if the hurricane struck the following day. For good measure, candles had been provided.
After this short speech Rose wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but the room he led her to was more than adequate. No furniture, but large and airy with an enormous en suite bathroom attached to it. As with the rest of the place, barring the entrance hall, the floor was of rich wood. There was even emulsion on the walls and shutters on the French windows that led directly on to the outside porch.
‘When it’s up and running,’ Gabriel explained, ‘there will be hammocks here and there on the porch so that people can relax out of the sun but still in the fresh air.’
‘Your idea?’
‘With a little input from my sisters, who claim to need relaxation more than me as they have children.’ He walked into the bathroom and gave it the once over. ‘There’s no mosquito net,’ he told her, lounging against the wall, ‘and no air-conditioning, so watch out for insects. You can burn one of those coils—’ he nodded in the direction of the ground by the bathroom ‘—but they’re not one hundred per cent effective. My advice is to sleep with the French windows shut. Just leave a crack in the windows open to allow a through draught and you can leave the door open as well. You won’t die of the heat. It cools nicely at night. I’ll be up early tomorrow. I’ll wake you. You’ll probably be tired but we might need to start securing things and getting prepared for the worst.’
‘Right.’
‘Are you scared?’
‘Of what?’
‘Creepy crawlies? Night time in a foreign place? The threat of a hurricane?’
Rose shrugged and shook her head. Nothing was as threatening as what she felt in the presence of the man leaning indolently against the wall in front of her. The strangeness of the situation was as nothing compared to the sudden, terrifying knowledge that they were alone in this place.
‘Brave lady,’ Gabriel murmured and Rose thought she could detect an edge of sarcasm in his voice.
‘Not every woman likes playing the damsel in distress.’
‘Most don’t have to,’ Gabriel commented wryly. ‘They naturally freak out at the thought of insects and thunder storms…Well…’ he pushed himself from the wall and strolled past her ‘…good night. If you need anything…you know where I am…in the room next door…’
‘Thanks, I won’t.’
And she would make sure to lock the door, just in case he got it into his head that she was really a damsel in distress underneath it all, that she really needed him to check on her to make sure she wasn’t cowering under the sheet in fear of the mosquitoes. He felt guilty, she suspected, at dragging her here under false pretences, whatever he said about the fact that she should have known the situation, and guilt might well make a gentleman of him.
She locked the door and then locked the bathroom door as well, although her shower was quick and cold. The plumbing might be up and running but it wasn’t a comfortable experience, although she did feel clean and refreshed afterwards.
She had to stick her wet towel half out of the bathroom window to dry naturally, as towel rails had not yet been fitted, and the ground was wet due to the lack of a door on the cubicle. But the mattress, basic though it was, was comfortable and through the open window the sounds of night-life were oddly soporific.
Rose