felt his arms stiffen.
She had no idea how long they stayed like that, suspended for an incredibly tension-fraught moment in time, and if it hadn’t for the beep of her darn phone indicating she had a message she had a fair idea of what might have happened.
‘Better get that in case it’s about Mum,’ she said, instantly missing his warmth as he released her and stepped away, managing to hold the board upright and disentangle herself from her simultaneously.
‘I’ll meet you outside when you’re done,’ he said, his voice husky and laced with the same passion pumping through her veins as he picked up the boards as if they weighed nothing and marched outside.
With a sigh of regret she shook her head to clear it, fished her phone out of her pocket and checked it. The message from a client could have waited.
This all-consuming yearning, making her want to run after Archer and drag him back to the sanctity of this shed to finish what they’d started, was not so patient.
Torn between wanting to indulge her newly awakened cravings and wanting to slap herself upside the head, she marched over to the change rooms.
The sooner she got back behind the safety of her computer screen and away from sexy surfer, the better.
* * *
Archer jammed the surfboards into the sand and took off for the ocean at a run.
He needed the clarity only the sea could bring. And the chill to ease his inexorable desire.
He’d had a close call back there. So close to giving in to the relentless drive to possess Callie again, to see if the resurfacing memories were half as good as he remembered.
Who was he trying to kid? Those hazy memories were becoming sharper by the day. Even the most trivial things, like watching Callie snag her hair into a ponytail or jot down notes, would resurrect memories of how she’d done the same thing years ago, and he’d be catapulted back to a time when they’d had no responsibilities, no pressures, and were free to indulge their passion.
A time he’d deliberately screwed up to avoid feeling the same way he had when he’d discovered his family had withheld the truth about his dad: as if he wasn’t good enough.
He’d trusted his family and they’d let him down, seriously interfering with his ability to trust anyone.
If he couldn’t trust them, who could he trust?
Walking away from Callie back then had been inevitable. Early days in a burgeoning career taking him straight to the top. So when she’d got too close, when he’d started to think beyond Capri, when those trust issues had raised their ugly head, it had been easier to sabotage and run without looking back.
That didn’t stop him wanting to have that time again.
Now.
The waves broke around his ankles as he sprinted into the sea and dived through the break, the invigorating brace of cold water slicing through his musings but doing little to obliterate his need for her.
He should have known this blasé flirting as a ploy to distract himself from the impending catch-up with his folks would morph into something more.
He had a feeling nothing would dull this ache for Callie. Nothing less than indulging in a mind-blowing physical encounter designed to slake his thirst and get this thing out of his system.
He could have damped down his need, could have kept things friendly and continued on his casual flirting way, if she hadn’t blown his mind in the shed.
She wanted this too.
She’d had a choice and she’d made it, leaning back into him, pressing against him, showing him she felt the buzz too.
He’d been stunned, considering the way she’d aborted their kiss a few hours ago. This time, why had he bolted?
As he sliced through the water, free-styling as if he had a shark on his tail, he knew.
Last night, when she’d divulged all that heavy stuff about her mum and he’d held her for ages comforting her, he’d started to feel something. He’d felt that sitting on the deck of his home for ages, with a woman he seriously cared about, content to just sit and not talk, was kind of nice.
It was the first time he’d ever been in Torquay and felt like staying. And that terrified him more than any Great White. He wasn’t a stayer. Even for a woman with doe eyes and a soft touch.
He rolled onto his back, letting the swell take him. He closed his eyes, savouring the sun warming his body.
This was where he felt at home. In the ocean, with all the time in the world to float, far from people he’d trusted who hadn’t returned the favour.
This was where he belonged.
Then why the urgent pull, like a rip dragging him where he didn’t want to go, that said belonging to Callie mightn’t be so bad after all?
* * *
Callie felt like a trussed-up turkey in the wetsuit. She hated the way the rubber stuck to her skin. She hated the way it moulded and delineated every incriminating bump, and she particularly hated how it made her feel.
Like a novice floundering way out of her depth.
She didn’t like floundering. She liked staying in control and staying on top and staying in charge.
She’d lost control once before. And the reason was staring at her with blatant appreciation as she trudged towards him.
‘By your foul expression, I’m guessing a wisecrack about rubber and being protected isn’t in my best interests?’
She glared at him. ‘I’m here under sufferance and you damn well know it.’
She could have sworn he muttered, ‘You weren’t suffering in the shed,’ but didn’t want to call him on it.
She didn’t need a reminder of the heat they’d generated in the shed. Not if she wanted to stay upright on this stupid piece of fibreglass for more than two seconds.
Errant, erotic thoughts of Archer were guaranteed wipe-out material.
She yelped as something brushed her ankle—only to discover Archer grinning up at her.
‘How about a crack about keeping a wild woman on a leash?’
She let him fasten the cord attached to the board around her ankle before nudging him away with her foot. ‘How about I crack you over the head with one of those boards?’
He laughed, straightened, and unkinked his back. ‘Just trying to get you to loosen up.’ He added a few side stretches. ‘The looser you are, the easier it’ll be to get the feel of balancing on the board.’
‘I’m loose.’
She took a step and tripped over the leash in the process. His hand shot out to grab her, and even through the rubber his touch sent a lick of heat through her.
‘You
