And he found himself wondering what exotic underwear she was wearing today…

‘I ordered us lunch,’ he added, belatedly as well as abruptly, and pointed to a table set for two outside on the terrace.

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly-truth be told, despite her mental checks and amazingly, after only a couple of days of his absence, it was a bit like a kick in the stomach to be in his presence again.

He wore light grey trousers and a black polo shirt. His belt was black leather, so were his shoes. He was shaved, she thought she detected a faint lemony cologne, and groomed-he looked every inch the powerful multimillionaire he was, and for some reason it struck a cold little chime in her heart.

Because she suddenly suspected she would cherish the memories of the other Rafe Sanderson she’d met. Not the first one but the wet one, the unshaven one, the grease-stained one, the man with a body to die for.

But not only that, something in his manner gave rise to a premonition this might be the last time they’d meet.

She turned that set of thoughts off with a mental click and held out the holdall to him. ‘Your sister’s clothes. I’ve washed them.’

‘Thanks.’

He gestured for her to proceed him onto the balcony.

She stepped through and sat down, unfurling a beige napkin.

He took the lid off a porcelain serving dish and revealed a creamy pasta dish with herbs, prawns and asparagus tips.

Maisie drew a deep breath and Rafe smiled. ‘I’m with you-it smells delicious.’

But, as he dished up the pasta and sat down, his face settled into unreadable lines and once again she had the feeling they’d got onto a new, rather chilling footing.

Maisie picked up her fork and he said, ‘Our quarry, the man who might have been impersonating me, could be found in Tonga. So I’ve made arrangements to fly out tomorrow.’

Her fork clattered to the table and her eyes nearly stood out on stalks. ‘You believe me now! But-Tonga!’

‘The proud Kingdom of Tonga, yes. Situated in the South Pacific just west of the international dateline.’

Maisie picked up her fork. ‘What’s he doing there?’

He ate for a moment then sat back. ‘That remains to be seen.’

‘Well, who is he? And how do you know about him?’

Rafe hesitated. ‘That’s classified information at the moment.’

Maisie stared at him with her lips parted. ‘Hang on, this could be the father of my baby! You can’t keep that as classified information from me!’

He smiled drily. ‘Actually, I can until I’ve verified things, but rest assured, if this is the guy, I’ll make the appropriate decisions on your behalf. In other words, Maisie, you can leave it up to me now.’

Maisie fought a pitched, private battle with herself and, for once in her life, won it. To contradict him angrily was not the way to go, not with this businesslike man who looked almost frighteningly capable of getting his own way.

Anyway, if she lost the battle she’d be left with no clues as to what this actually signified, this disengagement, but she had the strong feeling it meant something that might not be beneficial to her…

‘Well, that’s a relief,’ she said. ‘So-how will you get to Tonga?’

‘The company jet.’

She made a face. ‘How does a normal person get to Tonga?’

His eyes rested on her face in a rather narrowed, probing way then he said, ‘From Brisbane you have to fly via Nadi in Fiji or via Sydney. There aren’t daily flights, so it can be a time-consuming business.’

‘I’ve always thought it sounded rather fascinating-lucky you! It’s a bit surprising, though, that you’ve got the time to do this.’ She said it rather whimsically but in fact her mind was racing.

‘I’ll be able to combine it with some business. I’ve been there several times before. In fact, I’ve sailed the Mary-Lue there, to the Vava’u group of islands. They have the finest natural harbour in the South Pacific.’

‘How wonderful,’ she enthused. ‘Tell me about it.’

So he did as they finished their lunch. About the marvellous volcanic and coral isles of Vava’u, about Tongatapu, the main island of Tonga and Nuku’alofa, the capital. About the pigs that wandered freely and the people who still often wore traditional garb-a woven palm mat tied round their middle over their clothes, and the choir singing in the local churches that was awesome. And above all the warmth of the local people.

‘I’m green with envy,’ she said. ‘So, I suppose there’s nothing more for me to do at the moment, but you will get in touch when you get back, won’t you?’

‘Of course.’

She put her napkin on the table then appeared to be struck by another thought. ‘How will I be able to get in touch with you in case I need to?’

‘You won’t need to while I’m in Tonga,’ he said definitely.

‘No, I suppose not. But when you get back?’

‘Use the number I gave you, Jack Huston’s, but I promise you I’ll be in touch.’

At that moment his own mobile rang and he pulled it out of his pocket, excused himself and got up to walk to the veranda railing.

‘Yes, Jack,’ he said into it. ‘Have you got the flight plan? OK. Book me into The Tongan Beach Resort for two nights-Tuesday, Wednesday, I’ll handle things from there. See you.’ He disconnected and turned back to her. ‘Well, Maisie, I’m sorry to end our lunch a bit abruptly but I have another appointment shortly.’

Maisie controlled her emotions brilliantly. She allowed none of her Oh, no you don’t, Rafael Sanderson! emotions to show.

She stood up and said casually, ‘Well, thanks for lunch. Don’t forget I’m relying on you to sort this out! Oh, and enjoy Tonga.’

He didn’t respond immediately because for one instant, as he watched her, so pretty in her smart outfit but a different sort of girl and plucky with it, he was tempted to spurn his advice to himself.

He knew he should forget the memory of her cuddled against him so sweet and trusting and lovely. Forget her poised, unusually attractive Mairead persona and the odd little thought that came with it-she could take her place anywhere.

Forget the fact that she was never boring to be with…

Because he could only further complicate her already complicated life.

And if that doesn’t work, he advised himself drily, remember she is carrying another man’s baby…

Not to mention the complications of who the bastard going round impersonating him could be, which was another good reason to take this tack.

‘My pleasure,’ he murmured, and started to walk her towards the lift. ‘I know I’ve said this before but look after yourself-and I mean properly,’ he added.

Was she imagining it, she wondered, or was there an air of finality to those words?

No, she decided, she wasn’t imagining it.

The lift arrived and she stepped in and waved at him, quite sure he never intended to deal with her in person again, never to know that she had other ideas.

She went straight home and got on to her computer. While she was waiting for websites to load, she realised she was still magnificently angry, not only because she refused to be brushed aside like this, but also because she wasn’t a fool.

It had become as clear as crystal to her that Rafe Sanderson knew the man who’d taken such advantage of her and could well have decided to protect him.

How he knew had also become clear the more she thought about it. He must have somehow got the guest list from the wedding she’d been playing at, but, while it would have meant nothing to her, one of those names on it must have meant something to him.

Take it a step further and recall the resemblance between the two men and it could only mean they were related…

There could be no other reason for keeping that name from her as classified information. No other reason for a man to take three days out of his busy schedule to track someone down in the wilds of the South Pacific.

Her eyes widened as she brought up The Tongan Beach Resort-it was on Vava’u. Bingo, she thought. But how to get to the fabulous group of islands without it taking for ever or breaking the bank?

She was almost cross-eyed when she came up with a flight from Brisbane to Fiji that connected reasonably with a direct flight, a new service, to Vava’u.

She sighed with relief, goggled a bit at the price, but she had started a holiday fund and could pay the balance in instalments on her credit card-she just hadn’t anticipated going to Tonga, but the more she saw of it, the more enchanted she was.

She made the booking that would see her arrive in Vava’u the following evening. Then she scrolled through the accommodation options and found the Backpacker’s Hostel in Neiafu, the capital of Vava’u. It wasn’t possible to book online immediately, she discovered, but at least she knew of the existence of cheap accommodation.

Finally she sat back and felt some of her anger drain away and some consternation seep in, in its place. Had she let her temper run away with her?

She shrugged. She was as much, if not more entitled to find out who had been impersonating Rafe Sanderson; that was what it boiled down to and no one could tell her any different.

But how did the real Rafe Sanderson fit into it all? For her?

‘An impossible dream,’ she answered herself quietly, ‘but it’s shattered now, anyway.’

Yes, she couldn’t deny the attraction that had sprung up for her, so surprisingly, out of a heart that she’d thought had been turned to stone and at the last time in her life that it should have happened to her.

Perhaps it had started life as a slender shoot brought to life by the fact that he’d made her feel safe and not only in his arms after rescuing her?

Perhaps it was compounded by the fact that he was the only person, apart from her doctor, who knew?