A boy her age was standing on the path next to the kayak store. Light from the single bulb over the door shone on his face. He was quite sexy.
‘I don’t suppose you have a spare one of those on you?’ he asked, pointing to the cigarette.
‘Sorry, no,’ she said, standing up and throwing the stub into the black water. As cute as the boy was, she felt a little vulnerable out here in the dark with a complete stranger.
‘Sorry,’ said the boy, as if he felt her discomfort. ‘I’m Bradley.’
‘Ah, you’re the new boat boy I heard the girls talking about earlier, aren’t you?’ said Sasha. ‘You were quite a hit.’
The boy shrugged, a little embarrassed.
‘Where are you from?’
‘West Virginia.’
‘I mean recently. I haven’t seen you on the island before.’
‘I just got here today to work at Robert Ashford’s party.’
Sasha began to walk back the way she had come and Bradley fell in step.
‘Long way to come, from West Virginia for four days.’
‘Ah no, I’ve been bumming around the islands since I left high school last year, picking up work at the resorts. I heard Mr Ashford wanted some extra crew for some corporate thing he’s having this weekend. Money’s good and I go to Harvard in the fall, which isn’t cheap.’
Sasha looked at him again, her head feeling fuzzy. ‘Harvard, eh?’ she said. ‘Clever boy.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Bradley. ‘Anyway, shame it’s just until next week. I’d love to work here all summer. Nelson and his family have a real cushy number. I hear the Ashfords are only here a few weeks of the year.’
‘Most of the time I come with them actually,’ said Sasha with a hint of superiority. ‘Miles Ashford is my boyfriend.’
Bradley smiled. ‘I know.’
She glanced at him again, smirking. She was flattered despite herself. He obviously had noticed her.
‘I’m Sasha, anyway. Sasha Sinclair,’ she said. ‘Although I guess you know that already.’
He shook her hand with a firm grip. ‘Bradley Hartford.’ He smiled. ‘Real pleased to meet you, Sasha.’
A string of hurricane lights hanging from the trees warmed his face. She could see that he was even more good-looking than she had first thought. Nothing striking about his face, but clean-cut all-American good looks that worked well with his plain navy polo shirt and shorts.
‘Shouldn’t you be down on the beach with the others?’ he asked, pointing down the track which led to the beach.
She pulled a face. ‘Not much of a party. They’re all a bit drunk and acting stupid.’
Bradley nodded back towards the house. ‘I’ve got beers in my room just up there in the staff quarters if you’re interested.’
She looked him up and down.
He is cute, she thought, emboldened by most of a bottle of champagne and a snort of coke. Sod Miles if he can’t be bothered to wonder where I am. Why the hell not?
‘You’re on, cowboy,’ she said, boldly looping her arm through his and walking up the path.
The staff accommodation was all behind the main house. Nelson had an attractive Creole house of his own close to Richmond Cove while Puerto, the head chef, whose job it was to keep Angel stocked with the best food and wine, was in a small annexe. The rest of the cooks, cleaners and groundsmen were housed in a long row of one-storey wooden cabins hidden behind a line of banana trees. Sasha was glad that Bradley’s cabin was at the end of the row. For all her rebellion, she didn’t really want anyone to see her slumming it, but there were no lights on in the neighbouring cabins.
‘I’ve got my own room. Some of these cabins have got three sous chefs in them at the moment.’
‘So how