That brought back her deception. Mandy had never been allergic to cats. Gemma certainly didn’t want to talk about how she’d deceived him. Even though she knew that she would have to. Soon. On Tuesday she would be giving her last show. And then she’d be leaving. For good.

To distract herself, she asked, “Who was the woman who made space for us in the church?” Then added hastily, to justify her curiosity, “She looked familiar. Does she work at the resort?”

“That’s Penelope.” He pronounced it Pen-e-lop-i with the stress on the O. “You met her, when you were here before. Perhaps your memory is starting to return. You should let Dr. Natos check you out at the resort.”

That was the last thing she wanted. “Maybe my head is getting better.” He didn’t look convinced. “Who is Penelope?” She asked again. “In case we bump into each other-she’d think me rude if I didn’t know.”

He shot her a strange look. “That didn’t worry you much in the past. You never had much time for her. She was my governess when I was a child.”

“A governess?” It accentuated the divide between them. She hadn’t been deprived, but hers hadn’t been an upbringing populated with governesses and servants and limitless privilege.

“Someone had to teach me to read and write. I didn’t get sent to school in England until I was ten.”

“You went to school in England?” That would account for his flawless English-no hint of an accent, no misuse of idiom.

“Yes, my mother thought it was for the best. My grandfather couldn’t sway her.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Not at first,” he admitted. “It was a long way from home. I didn’t speak good English. Initially I felt so isolated. I wanted to come home.”

“Home? Here? To the resort?”

“No, there was no resort. There used to be a house on the island.”

Gemma gave the hill behind the village a sweeping look. “A house?”

“I pulled it down and built the resort on the site of the wreckage.”

Something in his voice gave her reason to pause. The tanned skin had stretched tautly across the high, flat cheekbones. He looked remote and ruthless.

Gemma shivered. There was so much she still didn’t know about him. And now it was too late. She would be leaving soon.

After they got back to the resort, Gemma hurried to the entertainment centre to help Mark with the Christmas show rehearsal. She wouldn’t perform in that. Tomorrow would be her last appearance. In a couple of days, she’d be back in Auckland. And she’d have to put the pieces of her life back together again.

“Gemma.” She started when she heard her name called. Mark and Lucie were watching her with quizzical expressions.

“Wakey, wakey,” Lucie called. “You look like you’re off in dreamworld.”

Gemma felt herself flush. Nightmare world, more like. “Okay, where are we?”

“In the Apollodrome,” said Lucie with a cheeky smile. “Rehearsing for the Christmas spectacular.”

“I remember.” Gemma flinched the instant the words left her mouth. Lucie and Mark wouldn’t realise the savage irony of that.

“Can you sing the Christmas medley?”

“I don’t know the words,” Gemma called back. “I’ll sing something else to give everyone a chance to do the movements.”

“Gemma’s not booked to sing in the Christmas Eve spectacular.” Angelo’s voice broke in as she strode forward. “Stella Argyris will be performing.”

Gemma stiffened.

“I asked Gemma if she would stand in for Stella,” Mark moved forward and gestured to Gemma to get into position. “Stella’s not due to arrive for another ten days but many of the other performers are here. I want to get the show on the road, so to speak.”

“I’ve worked with the divine Stella before,” Lucie murmured to Gemma. “She’s a cat. A man’s kind of woman. She’ll be itching to get her claws into our gorgeous Greek boss.”

Gemma’s heart splintered. “Lucie, hush. He might hear you.”

Lucie shrugged. “So what?”

Gemma wished she had a fraction of the other girl’s insouciance. “Tomorrow is my last day. I want to leave on a good note.”

“Judging by the way he’s looking at you, I’d say you’ve hit the highest note already. Stella’s gonna hate you.”

Gemma whipped around to see what Lucie was on about and encountered Angelo’s intimate gaze. “Hurry up-I’ve got plans for the afternoon.”

Gemma turned scarlet. She launched into “O Holy Night.” The instant she started to sing “the stars are brightly shining,” she knew she’d made a mistake. She’d always loved this carol on a deep, emotional level, but now as she sang the image that came to mind were the silver-white stars in the sky over Strathmos. Why couldn’t she’ve chosen to sing “Away in a Manager,” she wondered frantically, at least that would’ve had no deep, soul-rending connotations.

Angelo seemed to have turned to stone. He was staring at her like he’d never seen her before.

Gemma’s lashes feathered down, blocking him out her line of sight. The next line poured from her, her voice swelling, her throat thickened with emotion and her smoky voice became even more husky than normal. The climax came too soon and by the time the last words left her, Gemma was spent.

There was a moment of silence.

“Wow,” Lucie broke it, sounding awed. Gemma opened her eyes and blinked. Behind Lucie, Mark had started to clap and one by one the dancers joined in. Only Angelo stood unmoving. Gemma started to feel a little ridiculous; she clambered down the stairs, off the stage.

Finally, Angelo shook himself. He headed off her escape route. “You sing like an angel.”

With shock Gemma realised that his voice was hoarse. As if he’d been as moved as she’d been.

“I love that carol,” she said, and thought how trite it sounded.

“You sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to me the other night, but this…this…is something else.” He sounded awed. “To think I never even knew you could sing when you were with me. What the hell else did I not know about you?”

At his words Gemma came crashing back to earth. The magic vanished. She was Gemma Allen. Not the Gemma Allen Angelo believed her to be-that was Mandy-but another creature all together. The tangle of deceit she’d created had spun out of control.

After the rehearsal Angelo and Gemma had a light lunch and after she’d changed, he took her sailing. The afternoon passed in rush of wind and laughter.

That evening the applause after her show was even more fervent than usual. And Gemma knew that the audience had sensed the energy and emotion that the day spent with Angelo had unleashed inside her.

She was aware that this could not go on, would soon be over. She still hadn’t phoned back Macy about the offer of work in Sydney. By now the job would be taken. Gemma knew she was living for the moment, until it all came crashing down on her head. As it must.

So when Angelo took her back to his penthouse for a late dinner after the show, she didn’t protest. This was it. Her last chance to spend time with Angelo in the bubble that she’d created.

During dinner, they spoke of mundane matters, the candles on the table creating a golden haze around them. But beneath the everyday words, something buzzed, vibrating between them, an inexorable force. By the stillness of his body, the light in his eyes, Gemma knew he was aware of it, too.

Setting his knife and fork down, Angelo said, “I haven’t helped you regain your memory at all, have I?” His eyes were dark with emotion. “Your return to Strathmos has been in vain.”

She should confess now. But she didn’t. She didn’t want to extinguish that glow on his face that existed for her alone. She wanted to bask in it-for just a little longer. Once the bubble world was gone, it would be burst forever. There’d be no going back.

“Not in vain,” she said finally. “The job has been great. And…I met you.” Then she hastily tacked on. “Again.”

An unmistakable passion flared in his eyes. He pushed back his chair and stood. “Come here.”

Gemma knew what he was asking. If she went, everything would change. A moment of fear flickered in her chest. If she went to him…she would have to accept that she no longer believed he had destroyed Mandy and caused her to self-destruct.

That he was not the utter bastard Mandy had painted. That, for her own reasons, Mandy had lied.

“Come,” he said again.

Slowly she rose to her feet and started to move around the dinner table. He met her halfway. Took her hand and dropped down onto the long leather couch and pulled her onto his lap.

Need uncoiled within Angelo. A need to see her smile again, to banish the shadows from her eyes, a need for her to be happy, a need to touch her…a need that grew and grew.

What the hell was happening to him? How could he care so little about Gemma’s past betrayal? All he knew was that the whole week he’d been away from her had dragged like a prison sentence.

Experience had taught him that Gemma was treacherous, faithless. One side of him craved her, wanted to believe her promise that Jean-Paul meant nothing to her, wanted to believe it could be different this time…and fought to convince that other, more cynical side of Angelo that she had changed.

Her head was turned away from him. From this angle he could see the rise of her cheekbone, the straight line of her nose. He raised his hand, smoothed the wild tangles back to reveal the soft creamy skin at her neck.

“Ask me to make love to you,” he breathed. “So that I don’t break my promise to you.”

He watched her throat move as she swallowed. When she turned her head, he met her gaze and he read the same desire that consumed him, as strong as a relentless tide.

“Please make love to me, Angelo.”

A slow sensation rumbled like liquid thunder in his chest and, leaning forward, he brushed his lips across her silken skin. Her mouth opened. She tasted soft and sweet.