BOOK 3

Isabella didn't answer him, only smiled wistfully and got up to stir the big pot bubbling on the stove.

Was her plan working? she wondered. It was impossible to tell. Brand hadn't seemed to mind her flirting with Gary. Next time she would have to be more obvious. Then maybe he would remember she was his wife and do something to make sure she remained his. In her country no man would stand by and allow his wife to make eyes at another man. Isabella squashed a potato viciously against the side of the pot. The problem was^ this wasn^t her country—and Brand hadn't seemed to notice she was flirting. It was very puzzling.

Over the next five days the temperature outside rose steadily, and one afternoon, when the heat in the basement became unbearable, Gary knocked on the door and asked if Isabella would like to come out for a drive.

'We could go to Queen Elizabeth Park,' he suggested. 'It'll be cooler on the grass under the trees. Smell a lot better too. It's stuffy down here.'

He was right.