fish cookery, from catching and cleaning them through to buying them in the market and cooking them.
Got you there, she said to him in her mind as she picked up a headless fish, borrowed a knife and filleted it neatly before consigning the fillets to the ice chest.
This earned her a round of applause from her party but no particular approbation from Rob Leicester.
When they landed on the lovely islet called Hope, a circle of white sand with a crown of thick bush and trees, he explained briefly where and how to set up the picnic lunch, and took the rest of the party on a tour of the island, the coral and for a swim.
Blow you, Mr Leicester, she said to him in her mind again as she stripped to her amethyst bikini and had a quick swim in the crystal-clear water herself.
She dried herself and pulled on her white shorts but didn’t cover up her bikini top. She loosened her hair to allow it to dry, began to set out lunch and was waiting demurely beside it when the party returned. They all tucked in with gusto, full of enthusiasm for the Hope Isles and full of questions for her that they’d been unable to put to Rob.
Another feather in my cap, Mr Leicester—she beamed the thought at him while maintaining her severely demure demeanour—and this time got a response.
He squinted at her through his damp dark hair. ‘You look like the cat that’s got the cream, Miss Galloway,’ he observed, as she poured piping hot coffee from a flask.
‘Cream? Cat?’ one of her party enquired. ‘What means ziss, Mlle Caiti?’
She smiled delightfully at the middle-aged man. ‘He thinks I’m,’ she paused, ‘very competent,’ she said instead of trying to explain that Rob Leicester thought she was downright smug.
‘Bravo!’ And a stream of French followed indicating that they all thought so too.
‘Merci!’ Caiti turned back to Rob and said rapidly, ‘They don’t think I’m smug at all.’
‘So I gathered.’ He crossed his arms and looked at her moodily. ‘What exactly did you tell them?’
She glanced around but everyone had wandered off. She explained and added, ‘I didn’t try to lower you in the popularity stakes.’ Her smile, this time, was virtuous.
‘Thank you, but it doesn’t bother you to go around misrepresenting things?’
Caiti grimaced. ‘You could have had a riot on your hands otherwise,’ she said simply.
‘And it has been known for pride to come before a fall,’ he retorted swiftly.
‘Is it only me or are you always so full of these theories?’ she queried, still smiling delightfully. ‘If it’s only me, I wonder what I have to do to persuade you otherwise.’
‘One swallow doesn’t make a summer. I’ll reserve judgement.’ He got up and began to pack up the picnic.
She watched him for a moment. Another sweatshirt was moulded over his hard muscles above shorts that exposed long, powerful legs. Once again her stomach lurched…
To counter it, she said, ‘You can also go to hell again, Mr Leicester!’ And she waltzed down to the water’s edge.
But inside she was seething, and confused, she realised. The trials and tribulations of yesterday had not been her fault; they could have happened to anyone. So, the only thing he had to hold against her was one mistake from the previous tour. Did that warrant being so…disliked as she felt she was today? And what about last night?
She stopped rather suddenly and thought—was this all to do with her refusing to acknowledge the frisson that had undoubtedly existed between them?
Well, well, she mused, in that case it’s about time more women said no to you, Rob Leicester!
They didn’t stop to fish on the way back to the camp and got there at about four-thirty, which left her with an hour or so of free time before the fish barbecue, using the day’s catch.
She let herself into her cabin thankfully as she realised how tired she was. A lot of sun and sea air on top of a stressful day yesterday, she reasoned, and thought, with a wry smile, that you needed the constitution of an ox to be a tour guide.
She showered, donned a colourful cotton wrap, made herself a cup of tea then could no longer resist the invitations her crisp white bed was sending out. Just forty winks, she promised herself as she lay down. Twenty minutes at the most and she’d be up and about, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
An hour and a half later she sat up with a hand to her throat, no idea where she was, then aware that someone was knocking on the door. It was dark, and suddenly it all came back to her…
She flew off the bed and ran to the door, praying it wouldn’t be Rob Leicester come to find out what had happened to her, but of course it was. This time he was sleek and combed and in front-man mode in clean jeans and shirt.
‘Oh, no! I’m late, aren’t I? I just fell into this…this…deep sleep,’ she gabbled as she clutched her wrap with one hand and gathered her long loose hair with the other. ‘Damn! I suppose this makes you happy?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Why should it do that?’
‘One of your theories has come home to roost, that’s why. One swallow doesn’t make a summer,’ she mimicked with some bitterness.
‘On the contrary, I would have been quite happy to let you sleep on, Miss Galloway,’ he drawled. ‘Your party had other ideas. They want you there at the barbecue and celebrating their last night at Camp Ondine. I don’t know if they’re prepared to riot about it but I thought I shouldn’t take the chance.’
Caiti stared up into his eyes. Then she looked down at herself. ‘I feel terrible!’
‘This is only a small dereliction of duty so far, I wouldn’t feel too badly,’ he advised.
‘No.’ She swallowed. ‘I mean I feel leaden and lumpen and as bad as you only can after a deep, wrong-time-of-the-day sleep.’
‘I see. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible for you to feel lumpen,’ his gaze flickered up and down her slender lines beneath her wrap, ‘but I think I could remedy all the rest. Wait here.’ He turned away.
Wait here, she repeated beneath her breath. Yes, sir, no, sir, three bags full, sir! How autocratic could you get?
She had to eat her thoughts not much later when he returned with a tall, frosted glass and put it into her hand.
‘What’s this?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Don’t ask. It’s a fantastic pick-me-up. On top of a shower and,’ his lips twisted, ‘a more formal state of dress, you should be fine. You have half an hour; I’ll hold the fort in the meantime.’ This time he closed the door before departing.
Caiti stared at the door then at the drink in her hand, and took a sip. It was divine whatever it was and definitely had mango and other juices poured over crushed ice with some slivers of lime in it.
She took a bigger sip and could have sworn
