Anne Mather - Pacific Heat

Their route from the airport was not immediately inspiring, however. They passed what seemed like dozens of car dealerships and abandoned warehouses, with strip malls illuminated with garish neon signs. She saw houses with flaking porches, and incongruously customised vehicles in hot metallic shades. It made it easier for her to grasp the fact that she was actually here. She’d read somewhere that Los Angeles had taken over from Ellis Island as the most heavily burdened immigration point in the United States.

They drove north through sprawling suburbs, passing signs for well-known districts like Marina del Rey and Santa Monica. Olivia seemed to remember there was a pier at Santa Monica, and she guessed there was surfing, too. She couldn’t quite see herself standing up on a surfboard, she mused, deliberately avoiding thoughts of her destination and what it would mean.

Santa Monica Boulevard drove through the heart of the wealthiest district of Los Angeles. Olivia recognised the names of some of the hotels they passed, and Bonnie pointed out the ‘HOLLYWOOD’ sign that towered over what had once been the movie capital of the world. Nowadays, the glitz had become rather tarnished, she told Olivia laconically. But there was still a thriving film community, supplemented by the successful soap stars from TV.

Beverly Hills lay to the west of Hollywood, but to Olivia’s surprise they turned off before the road wound up into the quiet streets far away from the commercial district. A couple of turns and they were in Hunter Plaza, with the Moorish arches of the Beverly Plaza Hotel fronting its famous façade.

Olivia was still admiring the square-cut towers that rose behind its entrance when Manuel drove into the courtyard and stopped before the double glass doors. A major domo stepped forward instantly and opened the door of the limousine, and Bonnie said, ‘Welcome to America,’ before stepping out and gesturing to Olivia to do the same. ‘I’m sure you’re going to be very comfortable here.’

‘Here’ turned out to be a penthouse suite situated on the top floor of the twelve-storey hotel. While Manuel handed her bags over to one of the hotel’s bellboys, Bonnie checked her in, and Olivia realised that it was only a formality by the speed with which Bonnie was given her key. Well, not a key, exactly, she learned, when Bonnie demonstrated how to use the laminated card. Apparently, the code was changed every time a new resident took possession of the room, the card being pressed into the slot to open the door of the suite. The card was obviously easier and lighter to carry around, too.

The suite itself was the most luxurious apartment Olivia could have imagined. Airy, high-ceilinged, furnished in delicate shades of green and blue, with expansive views of Beverly Hills and the hazy downtown areas, it was apparently where she was going to stay. ‘You’re sort of in back of the Beverly Wiltshire,’ explained Bonnie, mentioning the name of one of the landmark hotels. ‘That’s Rodeo Drive down there.’

Olivia guessed she was supposed to be impressed, but in fact she was feeling a bit let down. However reluctant she might have been to meet Diane—and possibly Richard—she’d been ready for it. Now she felt deflated, aware that at some future time she was going to have to face it again.

‘You like it, don’t you?’ Bonnie was looking a little worried now and Olivia guessed that however indifferent the woman might be to her feelings she was anxious that Diane should have nothing to complain about. ‘See.’ She opened another door. ‘This is the bedroom. And that’s the bath—you’ve got a spa bath and a Jacuzzi—through there.’

‘Very nice.’

Olivia tried to sound enthusiastic, but it wasn’t easy. However luxurious it might be, it wasn’t home. She half wished she’d insisted on making her own arrangements for accommodation. A small hotel would have suited her better than this.

‘The hotel can supply you with a PC,’ added Bonnie briskly. ‘Diane didn’t know what you’d need so she’s left that up to me. I’ll be checking in with you all the time, so that’s not a problem, and Diane was sure that you’d work more easily here.’

And keep out of her hair.

The words were unspoken, but as the bellboy came in with her luggage and Bonnie went to tip him Olivia gazed around the suite with a cynical eye. Was this what Richard had really abandoned her for? she wondered. This wealthy lifestyle? What price now his accusations that she couldn’t give him the children he wanted? As far as she knew, he and Diane hadn’t had any children either. Though, of course, that could be her decision, not his.

‘D’you need any help with your unpacking?’

The bellboy had departed now and Bonnie was regarding her with a vaguely irritated air. Olivia guessed her reaction hadn’t been the one she’d expected. She wondered if the secretary knew that Richard had once been married to her. Somehow, she doubted it.

‘No,’ she answered now, slipping off her corduroy jacket. It was quite a relief to feel the air-conditioned air cooling her bare arms. ‘Um—thank you,’ she added, almost as an afterthought. ‘I can manage, really. You’ve been very kind.’

‘Well, good.’ Bonnie was mollified by her reply and with a tight smile she gave the apartment another thorough look. ‘I suggest you rest up for a while, and then order yourself some dinner from Room Service. You’ll have plenty of time to explore the hotel when your body’s caught up with your mind.’

Olivia nodded. It was true: she was feeling a little dazed, and it wasn’t just the shock of her arrival at the hotel. Perhaps Diane was right; perhaps she would be glad to have a place of her own to return to. Once she got used to it, that was. Right now, she was too exhausted to care.

CHAPTER THREE Table of Contents Cover About the Author Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author ANNE MATHER Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the publishing industry, having written over one hundred and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages. This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful, passionate writing has given. We are sure you will love them all! Title Page Pacific Heat Anne Mather www.millsandboon.co.uk CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN EPILOGUE Copyright Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

IN FACT, Olivia left most of her unpacking until the next morning. After Bonnie left, she felt too exhausted to do much more than take out her nightshirt and the bag containing her toothbrush and soap. A shower, in a fluted glass cubicle, refreshed her sufficiently to order a light supper, but she fell asleep without finishing the shrimps and salad they’d brought her.

She was awake before it was light. Her watch said it was lunchtime, but the clock on the bedside cabinet told a different story. Four o’clock! she thought, in dismay. At least three hours until she could order an early breakfast. Goodness, how long would it take her body to adjust to an eight-hour time change? She’d be falling asleep when by Pacific time it would only be four p.m.