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‘Don’t bother,’ she snapped, before hanging up the phone.

Isobel had spent the afternoon wandering through the narrow, winding lanes of the old town, browsing the boutiques. Palma was beautiful. The capital of Mallorca was a lively port town, dominated by the enormous Gothic Santa María Cathedral, which overlooked the shimmering Bay of Palma.

After the argument with Stuart, she had wanted a change of scenery, something to take her mind off her emotions. She longed to feel the bustle of a city. She’d asked the hotel to call her a cab, and after a few hours in the city, she was beginning to realize that she had had a better day on her own than she would have done with Stuart. She imagined him trailing around after her, complaining about the heat and how many shops she was visiting, all the time checking his mobile when he thought she wasn’t looking. In summary, in her heart of hearts, she knew she wasn’t missing Stuart as much as she should be.

Perhaps because he didn’t deserve it.

As twilight fell and the shadows lengthened across the square, Isobel was wondering whether to eat dinner at one of the inviting restaurants down by the harbour, or get a taxi back to the hotel before it grew dark, when she felt someone watching her as she browsed in the window of a ceramics shop. Turning around, she saw a familiar-looking man standing in the street staring at her, as tourists filtered around him. He was dark and olive-skinned, broad-shouldered and stocky, and he stepped towards her, a confident smile on his face.

‘You’re Camille’s friend,’ he said to her, in English with a Spanish accent. ‘You’re staying at the palacio, right?’

‘Yes, I am. Staying at the palacio, that is. I’m not Camille’s friend …’

‘Even better,’ he grinned. ‘I thought I recognized you – I never forget a beautiful woman. I’m Paulo Torres.’

He held out his hand and Isobel shook it. ‘Isobel MacFarlane. You were at the boat party yesterday, weren’t you?’

‘Yes. In fact, it was my boat. I also co-own the restaurant, Il Paradiso.’

‘A man of many talents,’ Isobel laughed. ‘My husband and I dined there a few nights ago, it was wonderful. In fact, I think I remember seeing you as we arrived.’

‘And where’s your husband now?’

‘He’s on the mainland. For work.’ She rolled her eyes, knowing she shouldn’t criticize Stuart to this virtual stranger, but unable to help herself.

‘And he’s left you here, all alone? He should take better care of you …’

Yes, he should, Isobel thought defiantly, though she didn’t say so to Paulo. The way her eyes sparkled made it clear she agreed, though. ‘I’ve been having a wonderful time without him. Sightseeing, shopping …’

Paulo shook his head and sighed. ‘No, this won’t do. A beautiful woman cannot be left alone like this. I was born and raised on the island – I need to show you Mallorcan hospitality.’

‘Do you?’ Isobel said. There was something about Paulo’s easy, flirtatious manner that she liked. After so long feeling neglected and dismissed by Stuart, it was nice to be charmed and flirted with. Besides, it wasn’t as though Paulo was a complete stranger – she’d seen him at the restaurant and the boat party, and he knew Camille and Lucas. And he knew Stephanie too, Isobel realized, as the pieces slid into place. They’d been on a date together, but it hadn’t worked out and she’d broken it off with him at yesterday’s party …

‘Yes, I do,’ Paulo was saying with a grin. ‘So how about you meet me back here in an hour’s time. I have a little business to take care of first, but I’ll be back.’

‘And then what?’ Isobel asked, tossing her hair coquettishly.

‘And then, Isobel MacFarlane, I’m going to take you to dinner.’

Isobel and Paulo were seated outside a restaurant in the marina; the luxurious yachts moored nearby were attracting a lot of attention from passing tourists. The warm night air wrapped itself around them, a candle flickering softly on the table and bathing them in a warm glow. It was an upmarket establishment, catering to an exclusive, international clientele, and Isobel was enjoying herself.

Paulo had ordered a very expensive bottle of wine, and they were discussing the spectacular boats, Paulo clearly trying to impress her with his knowledge of the super-yacht industry.

‘And what about the business you had to attend to earlier?’ Isobel asked, spearing a forkful of octopus. ‘Was that related to your yachts?’

Paulo smirked. ‘That was something else. I can’t say too much, but rest assured it’s very lucrative for me,’ he added, angling his wrist to ensure she noticed the Rolex.

Isobel laughed. Paulo was nothing if not entertaining, and full of bravado, boasting incessantly. But he was young and hot and charming, and right now that was all Isobel wanted.

‘And that’s in Palma?’ she asked, raising her wine glass to indicate the city.

‘Yeah. I’ll be spending a lot more time here – it’s where the action is. Belleza is a backwater. No offence – I know it’s pretty for the tourists, but I need more excitement.’ He raised his eyebrows suggestively; Paulo certainly wasn’t subtle.

‘But what will happen to Il Paradiso, if you’re spending so much time in Palma?’

Paulo shrugged dismissively. ‘It’s time to give up on that. Lucas will never get a Michelin star. No one cares about his homemade stews, it’s peasant food.’ He took a slug of his wine, as Isobel sipped hers thoughtfully.

‘How do you know Lucas?’