of it all! Like a dream—a wonderful, exotic dream.
And the Caribbean beach—silver sanded, backed with palms swaying in the gentle calypso breeze that rustled the scarlet hibiscus and the fragrant frangipani blooms—was not the only dream come true.
So was the man at her side.
She could feel her breath catch as it had caught over and over again during their journey here, cocooned in first class seats. Her eyes had been wide with the excitement not just of travelling abroad for the first time, or because it was first class, with all the pandering and luxury that came with it, but most of all because of the man sitting beside her.
She had made the right decision in accepting his invitation to come here. She knew it—felt it. For how could it be otherwise? How could she possibly have resisted what he’d offered her? The question was rhetorical; her answer was a given. It was impossible to resist Athan Teodarkis! Impossible to resist his invitation—both to this wonderful holiday with him and, she thought, with a shiver of quivering awareness, to what else he was inviting.
There had been, it was true, a momentary pang when she’d thought of Ian—but it had been swiftly quenched. Ian was far away—and if her alternative was to stay languishing in London, without him, what was to hold her there when she might be here … on this palm-fringed tropical beach?
With Athan.
Day after day, every time she met with him, her response to him intensified. She became more and more vividly aware of the effect he could have on her. It might be foolish, it might be rash—but it was so powerful this rush that came whenever she thought of him, whenever she was with him.
I can’t resist him—can’t resist what he’s offering me. I can’t …
And for this brief idyllic time, here in this tropical paradise he’d brought her to, she would resist nothing of what he offered her.
She gave a little sigh of pleasure at the view ahead of her—the time with Athan ahead of her. Happiness filled her, and a wonderful sense of carefreeness. Whatever else was complicated or difficult or troubling in her life this time was not going to be part of. This time was for her—and for the man she was with so willingly.
‘I’m glad not to disappoint,’ he said.
For a long, bewitching moment his eyes caressed her. Then, as if reluctantly, his expression changed.
‘What would you like to do first?’ he asked.
She had no hesitation as she answered, ‘I can’t resist that sea! It’s calling out to me!’
He gave a laugh. ‘And to me. OK—let’s hit the beach, then.’
He ushered her indoors and she stepped through into the shady interior of the cabana. It was designed as if it were a simple, palm-roofed hut, but it was a simplicity that belied a level of luxury that went with the whole ambience of the resort.
On the flight over Athan had regaled her about the island and what awaited them there.
‘St Cecile has been fortunate to escape mass tourism,’ he’d told her. ‘It’s a little too off the beaten track, so until recently it’s been something of a backwater. But to my mind that’s all to the good. In the last ten years or so there has been some very careful development for tourism, but at the most upmarket end, so the handful of resorts are well separated from each other, and beautifully sited and landscaped. It’s a little gem of an island, to my mind.’
Even without anything to compare it with, having seen it, Marisa could only wholeheartedly agree. It was like stepping into one of those luxury travel magazines, she thought. A place most people could never visit.
And I am! she thought, with another little rush of excitement.
With a companion anyone would swoon over …
She slipped into the bedroom. As they had followed the bellhop from the main resort building along sandy, shell-lined paths amongst the palm trees and entered their cabana she had felt a little flutter of nerves on seeing the one bedroom. Somehow it had made very real just what this holiday would entail.
So was it nerves she had felt, or a flutter of excitement?
Anticipation?
She felt it again now, as she searched through her suitcase for her bikini. She had bought it in a mad hectic rush spent raiding the West End stores the day before flying out, and now, as she looked at it lying on the counterpane, she felt another flurry of nerves. In the changing room she had felt brave about it—its brevity had seemed entirely right for such an exotic destination. But now, realising that she was about to don it and emerge in it, displaying herself to a man who up till now had only seen her in high-coverage winter clothes, it was unnerving to say the least.
Nevertheless, she had bought it to be worn and to be seen in it. Even so, before she emerged on to the veranda she draped a matching voile sarong around her, which gave her a layer of veiling she was thankful for when, some moments later, Athan emerged as well.
His eyes went to her immediately, visibly drinking her in. For all the fine voile veiling her, she still felt acutely revealed. But if Athan were drinking her in, she had to acknowledge she was doing exactly the same to him. He was wearing a pair of hip-hugging dark blue boardies, and his torso was completely exposed. Marisa felt her eyes widen automatically.
Bare-chested, Athan was everything she’d imagined him to be—and more. Lean packed, with not an ounce of spare flesh on him, yet not overtly muscular. His smooth, tanned skin moulded over taut muscle, planed down over perfect pecs and delineated abs to arrow towards the low-slung waistband of his board shorts.
She dragged her gaze away.
‘Race you to the sea!’ she exclaimed, with slightly forced gaiety.
She turned to descend the wide shallow steps that led down to a path to the sea, a dozen metres or so beyond, set between palm trees framing the vista. But a hand stayed her, catching her shoulder.
‘Wait—have you got sunblock on?’
She twisted her head back. ‘Yes—loads.’
He nodded. ‘Good. It’s essential in this latitude. My skin can take more exposure than yours, being naturally darker, but even so I have to use it copiously. You—’ his eyes washed over her ‘—with your English rose complexion, must be totally protected. It would be sacrilege,’ he told her, his voice changing suddenly so that it seemed to caress her as much as his eyes, ‘to burn such pale, tender skin.’
As he spoke his touch at her shoulder softened, echoing the caress of his eyes and voice. She felt her pulse skip a beat, butterflies flutter in her stomach.
‘OK, let’s race!’ He dropped his hand and surged forward, vaulting down the steps to the sandy pathway.
‘Cheat!’ she called out indignantly, and unfastening her wrap started after him.
Inevitably he reached the sea first and plunged in, diving headfirst into the aqua water as soon as he was barely waist-deep. Moments later she followed suit, feeling the water close like liquid silk over her. She surfaced, hair streaming down her bare back, water droplets glistening like diamonds all over her body.
Athan
