nodded, and strode back to his vehicle.
In her car, Taryn took a deep breath and switched on the engine. The hot air inside the vehicle brought a moment of giddiness, but at least it wasn’t too smoky. Grimacing, she looked down at her legs, stained and sticky with a vile mixture of sea water, perspiration and smoke. The swim she’d been promising herself all week had never seemed so desirable, but she should have said, No thanks, Mr Peredur, and headed back to the small studio unit that was her temporary home.
So why hadn’t she? She turned the key and waited patiently for the engine to fire.
Partly because she’d wanted to get away from Jason. But more because she was curious—and that forbidden tug of response excited her as much as it alarmed her.
Her mouth curled into a wry smile as she eased the car up the hill. It would take a woman made of iron to look at Cade Peredur and not feel something. As well as innate strength and authority, he possessed a brain that had taken him to his present position. Add more than a dash of ruthlessness to that potent mix, and the fact that he looked really, really good …
Yes, definitely a top-of-the-list male.
But not a man any sensible woman would fall in love with.
Not that that was going to happen.
Bitter experience had taught her that although she could feel attraction, when it came to following through on it she was a total failure.
In a word, she was frigid.
Without volition, her thoughts touched on Peter, the jumble of shock and sorrow and bewilderment assailing her as it always did when she recalled his proposal—so unexpected, so shatteringly followed by his death. Guilt lay permanently in wait, making her wonder yet again whether her response had driven him to take that final, lethal step.
If only she’d been a little less incredulous—if she hadn’t laughed—would he have made a different decision?
If she’d stayed in England as he’d wanted her to, instead of coming home, would she have been able to help him get over her refusal?
All those ifs, and no answers …
The car skidded slightly. Feeling sick, she dragged her mind back to driving. Although the station road was well maintained, it still required concentration.
At Anchor Bay she pulled up and switched off the engine. Cade Peredur’s big Range Rover stopped beside hers and he got out, appraising eyes coolly intent as he surveyed her.
Tall as she was, a little more height would be a distinct asset when it came to dealing with this man. Taryn tried to dissipate another tingle of sensation by collecting her bag. As she walked towards Cade she felt embarrassingly self-conscious. She glanced away, gaze skimming a huge flame tree to one side of the bay, and caught sight of the house.
It was a relief to be able to say something impersonal. ‘Oh, the bach is still here,’ she exclaimed. She’d half-expected some opulent seaside mansion, suitable for very rich holidaymakers, against the bush-covered slope that backed the lawn.
‘Bach?’
‘The local term for a small, basic cottage, usually by a beach or a lake.’
Cade said, ‘Obviously you know the place.’
‘When I was at school, the previous owners allowed the school to hold its camps here—it’s a very safe beach. The bach was just a ruin then. Possums used to nest in the ceiling, and I’ve no doubt there were rats under the floor.’ She looked around reminiscently. ‘Over there, under that pohutukawa, when I was thirteen I was offered a cigarette by a boy I was madly trying to impress.’
‘And did you accept it?’
She gave him a mock-scandalised glance. ‘Are you kidding? My parents are doctors! I stopped trying to impress him right then.’
He smiled. ‘Good for you. Would you like to see what’s been done to the house?’
It was difficult to match the abandoned shell she recalled to the house now. It had been almost completely reconstructed, its stone outer walls repaired and the timber ceilings stripped and oiled so that they gleamed.
‘It looks great,’ Taryn said, gazing around the long living room.
Although it must have cost a mint to renovate, it didn’t look glossy or smartly out of place. Comfortable and beachy and cool, it had shelves containing a large collection of books and some seriously good pictures hung on the walls. Somehow it suited Cade Peredur.
He said, ‘There’s a changing room and a shower in the cabana over by the flame tree. You can leave your bag and your clothes there—I’ll join you in a few minutes and bring you down a towel.’
She summoned a bright smile. ‘Thank you. And then I can prove to you how competent I am in the water.’
Cade’s answering smile didn’t soften his face. In fact, Taryn thought as she walked across the coarse warm grass to the beach hut, the curve of his firmly chiselled mouth had made his striking, hard-edged face seem both cynical and forbidding.
Safely in the small building, she wondered if anything ever did soften those arrogant features. When he kissed …?
She tried to imagine being kissed by Cade Peredur. Heat sizzled through her at the thought, but she couldn’t see his face softening into a look of … well, love was out of the question, but what about lust?
The word soften just didn’t fit the man. In his world it took an intimidating blend of brains, courage and formidable will to reach the top of the tree. When he kissed a woman it would be as a conqueror.
Hastily, she stripped off her clothes, pulling a face as she discarded them. They smelt disgusting—a mixture of smoke and sweat. They looked horrible too, both shorts and T-shirt smeared with ashy smudges and black marks. Even her bikini stank of the fire.
So, probably, did her hair and her skin.
Blissfully, she washed it all off in the sea’s warm caress. A few minutes after she waded into the water, she caught movement on the beach from the corner of her eye and inched her head around so she could watch Cade Peredur stride across the sand.
Her heart jumped, startling her. Formidably and blatantly male, he seemed like some potent, elemental figure from the dawn of time—sunlit bronze skin and a perfect male body showing off sleek muscles that proclaimed strength and energy.
Some of which she could do with right now. Deep in the pit of her stomach, that hidden part of her contracted and sent another hot wave of sensation through her.
Lust, she thought, trying to douse it with a prosaic and practical attitude.
Although she’d never experienced anything so powerful before, this keen urgency that alerted every cell, tightening her skin and making her heart race, was merely run-of-the-mill physical attraction.
And if she tried to act on it, she knew exactly and in humiliating detail what would happen next; it would vanish, leaving her cold and shaking with that familiar fear. But even those mortifying memories couldn’t banish the shimmers of sensation that pulsed
