only a little hoarse from the dousing. Her heart was thudding as though she’d swum several kilometres through raging surf.
Get a grip, she commanded.
The last time she’d felt anything remotely like this she’d been nineteen and amazingly naive. She’d decided it had to be love, and became engaged on the strength of it. What a disaster that had turned out to be!
But there was nothing girlishly callow about her response to this man. Her body throbbed with a dark, potent sexuality unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.
She’d deal with that later. Right now, she had to get herself back onto an even keel.
Somehow she managed to produce a smile and said the first thing that popped into her head. ‘Race you to shore.’
Cade’s brows shot up as though she’d surprised him, but he recovered instantly. ‘You get a handicap.’
‘OK,’ she agreed.
However, even with the handicap, he beat her comfortably. At least swimming as fast and as hard as she’d ever done worked off some of that wildfire energy.
When she stood up he said, ‘You’re good.’
‘I was brought up almost in the water,’ she said, breathing fast. He too, she noted with satisfaction, was breathing more heavily than normal. She added, ‘My parents love the sea so much they called me after it.’
‘Taryn?’
‘No, Taryn is apparently derived from an Irish word meaning rocky hill. I had an Irish grandmother. But my second name is Marisa, which is from a Latin word meaning the sea.’
He observed dryly, ‘It’s a very pretty name, but I don’t think it would help if you got cramps and there was no one around to help.’
‘I’ve never had even the slightest twinge of cramp,’ she said defensively, extremely aware of the way water gleamed along the muscular breadth of his shoulders, highlighting the effortless power beneath the skin. ‘Anyway, I know how to deal with it.’
‘Those medical parents?’
‘And a Pacific upbringing,’ she said shortly. ‘Want to know how it’s done?’
He laughed. ‘Like you, I’ve never had cramp, but just in case—yes, demonstrate.’
When he laughed he was really something, she thought confusedly. Trying to speak prosaically, she said, ‘First you change your kick. That often works. If it doesn’t, take a deep breath and float face down, then pull your leg up, grab your foot and yank it upwards.’
She demonstrated, glad to be able to hide her face in the water for a few seconds. When she’d finished, she stood up and said, ‘That almost always does the trick, I’m told.’
But he wasn’t going to let her off so easily. Bumblebees zoomed through her bloodstream when he scanned her face with hooded blue-grey eyes. ‘And if it doesn’t?’
‘Assume the same position and massage the offending muscle,’ she told him succinctly, taking a surreptitious step back before her brain scrambled completely, overcome by all that bronzed skin, sleeked by water and backed by muscles and hard male authority.
He laughed again, teeth very white in his tanned face. ‘Fine, I’ll accept that you can deal with cramp. Are you on shift work to be able to take the day off?’
The abrupt change of subject startled her. ‘I’m not working right now.’
His brows met over the distinguished blade of his nose. ‘Really?’
Was there a hint of disparagement in his tone? Taryn bristled. Parrying a keen, questioning look, she said with cool reserve, ‘I’ve been overseas, and when I came back I took a job selling souvenirs to tourists. It’s getting close to the end of summer and tourists are slackening off, so I’m no longer needed.’
‘Is there plenty of work around here?’ His voice was casual. ‘The village looked to be pretty small.’
Aramuhu was small, and there were very few jobs. But her future was none of his business. ‘I’m sure I’ll find something,’ she said dismissively.
He smiled. ‘I’m sure you will.’
Something in his tone caught her attention. Their gazes met, clashed, and the glint of awareness in his eyes summoned an intense, elemental response from her.
Taryn forced herself to ignore the shiver scudding down her spine, the tingle of anticipation.
Her breath stopped in her throat and she had to fight an odd belief that those few seconds of silent combat were altering the very fabric of her life, fundamentally changing her so that she’d never be the same again.
This unexpected attraction was mutual. Cade felt it too and, if she were willing, he’d probably enjoy a light-hearted, temporary affair.
Taryn didn’t do casual affairs—didn’t do any sort of affair. She’d had more than enough of the stark embarrassment when men realised that, although she could shiver with desire, when it came to actually making love she froze.
Her impetuous youthful engagement had caused such fierce disillusionment she’d been left emotionally bruised, so wary she’d never allowed herself to feel anything more than friendship for the men she’d met. Over the years she’d developed effective methods of brushing off unwanted approaches, yet this time temptation whispered seductively through her.
She’d stay well away from him—not give herself any chance of weakening. Turning away, she dived back into the welcoming water.
CHAPTER THREE
CADE didn’t follow her. Taryn told herself she should be pleased. She’d be prepared to bet her next year’s income—always providing she had one, she thought uneasily—that on his home turf he’d be hip-deep in swooning women. He had to be in his early thirties and he wasn’t married. Most men with his financial and personal assets would enjoy playing the field.
As she hauled herself up onto the rocks she decided acidly that when he did make up his mind to marry he’d probably choose a glamorous model or actress. After five years or so he’d divorce her and marry a nice girl from his own strata of society—whatever that was—who’d give him the required couple of children. And in his fifties he’d divorce the second wife and marry a trophy one thirty years younger.
And she wouldn’t want to be any of those wives.
That thought made her grin ironically before she slid back into the water.
Half an hour later she’d showered and reluctantly got back into her smelly shirt and shorts, emerging from the luxurious cabana to meet Cade, his muscled elegance defined by clothes that made her feel like a ragamuffin.
Only for an instant. The appreciative gaze that skimmed her bare legs did considerable damage to her composure. How on earth could he convey leashed interest with one swift glance—a glance that set her treacherous blood fizzing?
Possibly
