When the Siren Calls Read Online Free Page A

such a chivalrous thing, if Peter’s going to ignore me?”
    She paused to consider her clothing options, dallying only seconds over the idea of travel clothes before opting for a swimming costume. Modesty and disquiet compelled her to choose the one-piece over a bikini but it was a striking black number, with a lace effect around the neck and midriff that allowed a veiled glimpse of both cleavage and waistline. She stood before the mirror touching up her lipstick; the woman looking back at her was strikingly attractive. Although her skin no longer shone with the dewy freshness of youth, it was firm and polished, taut across her fine bone structure. Taller than average, she was a sculpture of a woman, viewing herself in the mirror like looking at art behind glass. She subconsciously nodded her approval and moved to the door, grabbing a bathrobe as she went.
    When she reached the pool, Jay was already there, his suit jacket draped over the lounger at his side. He looked effortlessly smart, his attractions in no way dulled by his unexposed flesh. Isobel broke her stride, now feeling foolish in her swimsuit and hating herself for her lack of subtlety. She pulled the bathrobe belt even tighter and made the walk across to him. She wanted to take the lounger next to his but her nerve failed her.
    “Shall we talk at the table?” she suggested, as she hung her bag decisively on the nearest chair.
    He was charming but professional as they chatted, and with every sentence struck another crack in her fragile, still almost unconscious, hopes and imaginings.
    “Your husband not joining us then?” he asked.
    “He’s busy making calls to save the world,” she said, reproaching herself for her bitterness.
    “Ah yes, you said. What does he do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
    “He flies from boardroom to boardroom making fat cats look good.” She tried to make her tone blasé, even amused, as she discreetly loosened the bathrobe. “You know, strategy. Buy this, sell that.”
    “So he travels a lot, I guess?”
    “All the time. One luxury hotel to the next, like this place.”
    “That must be great for you.” He smiled and raked his fingers through his hair before continuing. “The opportunity to travel with him, I mean.”
    “I used to think so. But after ten years it can get nauseating. Talking trivia with pampered spouses in the same bland function rooms all over the world.”
    “While the boys swig their brandy and swing their dicks?” His crudity should have shocked her and she blushed when it didn’t.
    “It sounds like you know the game he’s in,” she said, the bathrobe slipping from her shoulders as she put down her drink. His eyes lingered for a moment on her torso as curved black materialized from the soft, shapeless white.
    “A little bit, maybe. But what brought you both to Marrakech, if he’s so busy?”
    She could not resist the invitation for disclosure. “My dreams, I suppose. You know, the romance of the place. But I did have to drag Peter here kicking and screaming.”
    “And your dreams were fulfilled?” His eyes burnt into her, seeming to see everything, to know everything.
    “It hasn’t been the right time, there’s a lot going on.”
    She felt all of a sudden afraid of being quizzed further and drew herself up to become the questioner.
    “And you, what brings you here?”
    “Business. I’m checking out an investment possibility. A tourist development.”
    “And that’s what you do all the time?”
    “Some of the time. Right now I’m spending most of my time in Italy, in Tuscany; it’s a new concept — a luxury hotel and spa, an idyllic retreat in the hills — somewhere for a romantic getaway, or just to get some ‘me-time,’ while being pampered like a princess. If you visit you’d love it, I’m sure, and if you didn’t, then I’d know we were getting it wrong.”
    She smiled at the compliment. “Maybe I will,” she said brazenly, taking a sip of iced tea through the