Stolen Feelings. Margaret Mayo

       CHAPTER ONE

      JULIE found her patience growing thin. Where the devil was Ian? He had promised to meet her. She had stood here for almost half an hour in the searing heat and, apart from a handful of people going about their daily business, the small harbour was deserted.

      She heard the Jeep before it came into sight. It sounded as though it was being driven flat out, as though someone was in a great hurry. She watched frowningly as the vehicle came hurtling towards her, as the brakes were slammed on and the Jeep swung around so that it was ready to take off again.

      The man who jumped out was much taller and broader than her brother, packed with hard muscle, deeply tanned, with jet-black hair cut brutally short. He looked at her piercingly and questioningly for several seconds, as if he was not entirely sure that she was the person he had come to pick up. ‘Julie Drummond?’ There was something in his tone that sounded odd, and his harsh, frowning face suggested that he was not happy about having to make this journey.

      Julie was tall also, but she nevertheless needed to lift her head to look up at this man. ‘Yes, that’s me,’ she declared firmly.

      His eyes narrowed on her unnervingly for a second before he growled, ‘Let’s get going.’ He picked up her suitcase and tossed it unceremoniously into the back of the battered Jeep, waited with obvious impatience while she clambered in, and then took off again at the same breakneck speed.

      ‘I do want to get there in one piece,’ Julie announced testily, bracing herself with both hands. She was already bad-tempered at being kept waiting and this man was putting the fear of hell into her.

      A pair of the deepest blue eyes she had ever seen swivelled in her direction. They were the nicest part about him, she decided; the rest of his face was all hard, uncompromising angles. ‘You’re quite safe,’ he told her coldly.

      It didn’t feel like it to her. ‘What’s the hurry?’ she questioned.

      ‘I have other more important things to do,’ came the harsh response.

      ‘And you object to being sent to pick me up, is that it?’ she asked sharply. ‘Where’s Ian? I thought he was coming?’ This man was totally objectionable. She was dusty and hot and tired, her long black hair clung limply and damply to her head, instead of cascading in its usual riot of waves, and the last thing she wanted was to feel unwelcome.

      ‘Your husband is stranded on Pinz6n,’ he told her. ‘He should have returned last night but the boat developed engine trouble. He will hopefully be back later today.’

      Julie did not like the emphasis he put on the word ‘husband’—almost as though he knew that she was masquerading as Ian’s wife! There was no way he could, of course, unless Ian himself had said something, and that was unlikely; it had to be her conscience. But she touched the wedding-ring she was wearing, twisting it uneasily. It was a cheap one, bought to add credibility to their story, and it did not feel right on her finger.

      When her twin brother had first applied for the job as Cameron Storm’s research assistant in the Galapagos Islands he hadn’t realised that the eminent ecologist was seeking a husband and wife team.

      ‘He apparently needs someone to type out his notes and maintain accurate daily records,’ Ian had told her when he returned from his interview, ‘and also to do the cooking.’

      ‘A cook?’ Julie had looked at her brother in astonishment. ‘You’re asking me to come with you as Cameron Storm’s cook? Heavens, Ian, that’s not my line at all.’

      ‘But you are looking for a job; you know you hate being out of work, and you are an accomplished typist,’ he’d pointed out. ‘This means such a lot to me.’

      Her brother, also interested in ecology, but nowhere near as experienced and knowledgeable as Cameron Storm, was besotted with the idea of going out to the Galapagos Islands. He had been ever since, as a schoolboy, he’d read about Charles Darwin’s visit there.

      Although Ian and Julie were roughly the same height, his hair was not quite so dark, and he had a rounder face and a much stockier figure; they didn’t even look like brother