as his gaze drifted down her figure, now cleanly and drily dressed in slim aubergine trousers with a cream silk fitted blouse.
As it did so, it crossed Rob Leicester’s mind that although she was not technically beautiful, she was unusual and compelling. Her face was narrow and oval, her skin golden and her heavy hair, swept up into an elegant knot, was gorgeous, the perfect frame for her face and slender neck. Not only that, but her eyes were also stunning and her presentation was essentially chic.
‘How did you get this job?’ he enquired then, just as Caiti was starting to feel uneasy beneath his minute scrutiny.
‘Because I speak French.’
‘That all?’ He lifted an eyebrow.
‘I also spent three months in France once. And I’m not an idiot,’ she replied evenly.
He didn’t comment on that. ‘What’s the French connection?’
‘My mother is French, born in New Caledonia. But I was born in Port Douglas.’ Port Douglas was not that far from Camp Ondine. ‘Something else that made me suitable for this job,’ she added with a toss of her head. ‘I’m a local.’
‘So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Rob Leicester,’ he murmured.
Caiti tossed him a deadly little glance although she said smoothly enough, ‘What I would really like you to put in your pipe and smoke is this. Circumstance may have made me appear a trifle…silly and less than capable, Mr Leicester. You can go on believing that if you like but it’s far from the truth. Good night.’
She drained her glass and stood up.
He followed suit, crumpling his beer can around the middle in one strong hand. ‘Good night, Miss Galloway. By the way, we don’t always manage to keep the local wildlife out.’
Her eyes widened.
‘Would you like me to check your cabin before you retire?’
For a second she was terribly tempted. Then it occurred to her that, mysteriously, there was something more flowing between them. He was studying her assessingly again but this time he was concentrating on her figure.
And beneath that penetrating hazel gaze, her stomach lurched as the full masculine impact of the man hit her. It was a curiously devastating impact. It was as if he was paring things down between them to the fundamentals between a man and a woman. As if they were flesh on flesh, breathing each other’s essence, tantalising one another, withholding, granting, testing, fulfilling…
And so powerful was it, she glanced involuntarily down at his hands because she could almost feel them on her breasts, burning through the thin silk of her blouse.
But his expression changed and she was beset by another impression of Rob Leicester. Rugged, powerful, yes, but perhaps more complex than she’d given him credit for? The lines and angles of his face were interesting, and his eyes, as he looked down into hers, were definitely posing a worldly little question as he suddenly smiled a secret half-smile that was seriously sexy.
Her heart started to hammer, her pulses began to pound and such was her disarray, nothing in the world would have had the power at that moment to distract her from feeling undeniably stirred up by Rob Leicester.
Nor could she doubt that his presence in her cabin wouldn’t lead on to…
No, stop right there, Caiti Galloway! she commanded herself and made a desperate bid to take hold.
‘Uh, I think I’ll take my chances,’ she said with an effort. ‘Seems safer than…’ She closed her eyes and bit her lip.
‘Safer than…?’
What you have in mind for me, Rob Leicester, she longed to say, but as her lashes flew up she saw so much amused comprehension in his eyes she could have killed herself.
She tried to look nonchalant and added, as this line of reasoning, although plucked from thin air, nevertheless sounded quite sensible to her ears, ‘I’ll…manage.’ She tilted her chin.
‘So, if I hear any maidenly shrieks or unmaidenly language coming from your cabin, I should just ignore it?’ he questioned gravely.
‘Yes.’ This time her lavender gaze was dangerous.
‘So be it,’ he murmured. ‘I am right next door, however, should your…new-found bravery desert you. Good night, Miss Galloway.’ He turned away and left the lounge.
Which was fortunate as Caiti found herself rooted to the spot. The thought of Rob Leicester sleeping right next door to her, if he’d meant what she’d thought he meant, was infinitely disturbing. The cabin she’d been allotted this time was a duplex. Two en suite rooms with one dividing wall and a shared veranda…
She came alive a moment later, shook her head and posed a question to herself—was she going crazy? She’d only met the man twice and both times in difficult if not to say demoralising circumstances!
The militant mood of disbelief this conversation had fostered in her boded ill for any future meetings with Mr Leicester. She undressed, got into bed and arranged the mosquito net then composed herself for sleep.
There was no sound from the other cabin, no light, so she guessed her tormentor had not yet gone to bed, but there were a million frogs croaking away outside to reactivate her memories of being broken down in the Daintree.
I’ll never sleep, she thought despairingly, then stiffened as she heard footsteps outside and the lightest rap on her door at the same time as Rob Leicester said softly, ‘You all right there, Miss Galloway?’
Strangely, a little ripple of relief ran through her.
‘I’m fine, Mr Leicester. Quite fine, thank you so much!’ she replied.
‘Sleep well, then,’ he said and she heard his door open and close.
She did just that.
Any slight spirit of unity with Rob Leicester was gone the next morning.
He took the fast launch trip to the Hope Isles, which six of her party, all men, elected to go on. Caiti’s services were needed on the launch, as an interpreter. Rob was most professional both when they stopped to fish and when they went ashore—for the most part. He concentrated on the guests, and left Caiti nearly single-handedly to serve up the picnic lunch.
It was a glorious day. The rain had gone, the sea was calm, a pale, shimmering blue, they weren’t far off-shore so the dark green mountainous scenery of the mainland was magnificent, and the fish were biting.
Despite the language constraints, the camaraderie of seven men catching fish was soon evident. So was their enthusiasm. It crossed her mind to think once that they hadn’t really needed her, there was obviously a universal language amongst fishermen. It also crossed her mind to think that she was being unfairly exposed to Rob Leicester.
He drove the launch with consummate skill. He seemed to know all there was to know about the art of catching fish, where to find them and how to clean them. Once, she caught a quizzical little sideways glance from him as he gutted a red emperor with the minimum of fuss.
But
