common-sense robbing flush of heat had subsided. Seeing as how the spa was a public space presumably he had swimming shorts on. Not that she had any intention of investigating that too closely.
Which was just as well as her eyes seemed to have fixed on his chest and rather worryingly weren’t going anywhere, south or otherwise. The way he was sitting, with his arms outstretched and resting on the edge of the pool while water bubbled and popped all round him, displayed it in all its glory, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
It was a good chest, she thought dazedly, every nerve ending she had tingling with awareness. Better now, if that was possible, than when she’d first become acquainted with it. His shoulders were broader, his muscles looked harder, more defined, and his skin was a fraction darker.
Her head filled with the memory of how he’d felt moving against her, on top of her, inside her and her fingers itched with the need to reach out and touch him and find out if he still felt the same, still responded to her in the same way...
It was only when one of her feet actually inched forwards that she jerked back to her senses.
Honestly, what was going on? This was ridiculous. It was Kit. Her ex-husband. She knew every inch of his body, from the thick dark hair on his head to his toes and everything in between, so why was she lusting over him as if she’d never seen a body like it?
Ignoring the knowledge that it was the bits in between that were causing her such a problem right now, Lily pulled her shoulders back and dragged her eyes up. To find him watching her with an annoyingly knowing little smile playing at his lips, the likes of which made her all the more determined to stay cool and in control.
‘Hi there,’ she said brightly. Overly brightly possibly.
‘Good morning.’
‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked, and immediately wished she hadn’t because all it did was conjure up the memory of her and Kit falling asleep in each other’s arms, hot, satiated and limp with exhaustion.
And then another, of her waking up alone and sad and aware that while physically he was just across the hall in the spare room emotionally they were a million miles apart.
‘Like a log,’ he said with an easy smile that suggested he wasn’t nearly as similarly burdened. ‘You?’
‘Beautifully,’ she lied, ruthlessly dismissing the memories and trying to concentrate. ‘I didn’t see you at breakfast.’
‘I had it in my room.’
‘Oh.’
‘I had some work to catch up on.’
‘Right.’
Then her train of thought faded because, gosh, it was hard work keeping her eyes on his and not letting them drift down as they kept trying to do. And verging on impossible to hold back the urge to whip off her sarong and leap into the Jacuzzi with him and make herself stay where she was.
This was absolutely awful, she thought a little desperately. She’d always been drawn to his body, had always known that the magnetism that existed between them was hard to ignore, but what was going on here was another thing entirely. This was an attraction that she could almost taste. It was intoxicating. Addling. Becoming frighteningly irresistible.
‘Did you want something, Lily?’
Him. She wanted him. With a need that was almost blinding. And one that she had to resist until she knew how he felt and what he wanted. For her sanity, her self-respect and her sense of self-preservation. But, goodness, it was going to be hard.
‘Lily?’
She blinked and came to. ‘What? Oh. Yes.’ Although right now she couldn’t really remember what it was she wanted. Something to do with finding out what was going on in his head, perhaps.
Well, that was clearly out of the question when her own head was such a mess. She could barely think straight. And if she did embark on the kind of conversation she’d been vaguely contemplating she had the horrible feeling that if he admitted they were done, she might well be reduced to begging, which didn’t appeal in the slightest.
She needed time to get used to the situation as well as the scorching attraction she felt for him before attempting a deep and meaningful conversation about what he wanted from her. She needed to see how the land lay a little longer and give him a chance to play his hand first.
So maybe now wasn’t the time to go in guns blazing.
‘I was thinking,’ said Lily, feeling a fraction calmer now she’d come to some kind of a decision about how to handle him and the situation, ‘when you’re done here, what are your plans for the rest of the day?’
‘I don’t have any.’
She blinked, faintly taken aback because this was the second time that Kit had surprised her recently. He didn’t have plans? That was unusual. It seemed to her that recently he had plans for everything. ‘None at all?’
‘None at all. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, well, I was thinking of going fishing.’ Huh? Was she? That was news to her. Given she’d never done it before she didn’t even know if she liked fishing.
‘That’s nice.’
‘And I was wondering if you’d like to join me.’
He shot her a friendly, casual smile that for some reason made her want to slap him. ‘Why not?’
* * *
Fishing went swimmingly. So swimmingly, in fact, that the following day Lily suggested a tour of the island. Which was such a success that the day after that she and Kit went diving.
The experiences were fabulous, exhilarating, fun, the fishing unexpectedly so. The tour of the island had been fascinating, and when they’d gone diving she’d been overwhelmed by the beautiful and exotic marine life she’d never encountered on any of the dives she’d done before.
What was going on between her and Kit, however, was not so fabulous. Or exhilarating. Or fun. Instead it was downright perplexing.
Three days into their holiday, and Lily didn’t know what was going on now any more than she had at the beginning of the week. She and Kit spent all day together, ate every meal together, yet went to bed separately, and, while there had been plenty of laughs and endless conversation, the lie of the land hadn’t become any clearer and, more frustratingly, Kit hadn’t made any kind of a move.
The word she’d use to describe their relationship at the moment, thought Lily, stuffing a towel into her beach bag and scowling, was platonic.
OK, so most of the activities they’d engaged in hadn’t offered the kind of privacy or conditions needed to deal with a potential unstoppable overspill of desire. Such as the day they’d spent fishing and then the tour of the island. On both occasions there’d been other guests and guides around. And when they’d gone diving, yes, there’d been times they’d been alone, but that had generally been underwater, and, while the sight of him in just his swimming shorts had made her stomach flip and her temperature rocket, masks and aqualungs were hardly conducive to either conversation or the intimacy she craved.
But
