‘Um—good morning.’
Her brief appraisal told her everything about him, and that was worrying. He, too, was wearing shorts this morning, cargo shorts that exposed brown legs and muscled calves. A white body shirt clung to every heft and sinew of his torso, once again revealing the arrow of air on his stomach.
Oh, God!
Rachel couldn’t understand why she was so aware of him. Of all the men she’d ever met, and goodness knew there’d been plenty, why did she feel such a powerful reaction when Matt Brody was near?
Like mother, like daughter, perhaps?
But she refused to go there.
‘Did you sleep well?’
Rachel decided she’d get a crick in her neck if she was forced to look up at him. Pushing back her chair, she got to her feet, but she still had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. Green eyes—were they mocking her?—looked mild and inoffensive. But why was he bothering with her? Had he guessed why she was here?
‘Very well, thank you,’ she answered, aware of the crispness of her tone. ‘Did you?’
‘I always sleep well, Ms Claiborne,’ he said, his thin lips twitching with what could only be amusement. He paused. ‘I wondered if you had any plans for this morning.’
Rachel’s jaw nearly dropped. ‘Plans?’ she said somewhat blankly. And then, deciding he couldn’t possibly know what she was thinking, she added, ‘I—why, no. I was just considering my options, actually.’
Like, should I try and find out where you live, and whether my mother is staying in your house? Or if I should just wait and see what happens if you tell her that I’m here?
‘Good.’ He gave her a swift appraisal, and Rachel felt as if those shrewd green eyes had stripped her naked and found her wanting. ‘So how do you feel about seeing a little more of the island?’
Once again Rachel felt that sense of disbelief that had accompanied his first question. ‘I—yes,’ she said, not at all sure what she was committing to, but prepared to take it anyway. ‘I was thinking about that myself.’ She took a breath. ‘Are there guided tours?’
‘You could say that.’
Matt grinned, and Rachel’s stomach quivered in response. When he was relaxed, as now, he looked quite devastating, his eyes crinkling at the corners, their expression softening his masculine features.
‘I was offering my services, actually,’ he murmured. ‘I was born in England, but apart from college I’ve lived all my life on St Antoine. I know this place—intimately.’ Had he used that word deliberately? ‘I guess I know places the guidebooks couldn’t know.’
Rachel was sure he did. But she wasn’t half as sure about taking him up on his invitation. It was an ideal opportunity to question him without giving herself away. But it was also far too attractive a proposition, and she wasn’t at all certain her father would approve.
‘Um—will anyone else be coming with us?’ she asked, innocently, and for a moment she thought his eyes darkened with sudden impatience.
‘No,’ he said at last, his tone flat. ‘Does that bother you? If I promise to keep my hands off you, will you come?’
Rachel’s face flamed with colour. ‘Oh, I—that is, I wasn’t implying—’
‘Yes, you were.’ He gave a careless shrug. ‘So? What’s your answer?’
Rachel let out a nervous breath. ‘Do I need to bring anything?’ she asked, holding up her head, and his mouth twisted consideringly.
‘What did you have in mind?’ he queried. And then, as if aware of her embarrassment, he took pity on her. ‘Just some sunscreen, I guess. And your swimsuit, if you have one.’
Rachel put a little space between them. ‘All right,’ she said, mentally assuring herself that her swimsuit was the last thing she’d be putting in her bag. ‘When do we leave?’
He glanced at the thick gold watch on his wrist. ‘Is fifteen minutes long enough?’
Rachel nodded. ‘I should think so.’
His smile was ironic. ‘A woman who doesn’t need the better part of an hour to get ready. How lucky am I?’
We’ll see, thought Rachel, but she didn’t make any comment. She was already feeling apprehensive about her decision. Regretting it, no. Fearing it, yes.
‘Then I’ll see you in the foyer in fifteen minutes,’ he said, and with a polite nod he strode into the hotel.
Rachel had to sit down for a minute after he’d left her. She told herself it was so she could finish her coffee, but the truth was her legs felt decidedly weak.
Dear God, what had she let herself in for?
But she couldn’t sit here indefinitely, she thought. She needed to go back to her room and collect the sunscreen he’d mentioned. She was determined not to take a swimsuit, though she was aware that her skirt was almost as revealing. But then when she’d packed her suitcase for the trip she hadn’t expected her mother’s—what? Boyfriend? Lover?—would be, at the most, ten years older than herself.
Oh, to hell with it, she chided herself impatiently. She might be a virgin, but she was still capable of taking care of herself. On her father’s advice, she’d taken classes in both karate and tae-kwon-do, and although she wasn’t a black belt in either, her height made her a worthy opponent.
She pulled her backpack out of the wardrobe and stowed suncream and her dark glasses inside. Then, snatching up the one-piece black swimsuit she’d bought the previous year in Barcelona, she packed that, too, adding one of the hotel’s towels and daring Brody to object.
A glance in the mirror above the vanity had her pulling her hair free from the scrunchie. She usually wore it straight, but she hadn’t brought her tongs with her. In consequence, it spiked up at the ends, just past her shoulders. She combed her fingers through its silky strands and decided it would have to do.
It was almost exactly fifteen minutes later when she left the room. And. to her surprise, she saw Matt Brody just coming out of the double doors at the end of the landing. So did he live in the hotel, or had he just been checking up on his house guest? she wondered. If the doors were unlocked, she might check it out herself later in the day.
A shiver of anticipation glided down her spine and she hurried down the stairs ahead of him. This was proving to be more exciting than she’d thought. She pretended she hadn’t seen Matt, hoping to reach the foyer before he did. But she should have known he would be wise to a move like that.
‘No hurry,’ he remarked, closing the gap between them. A surprisingly callused palm closed on her bare shoulder. ‘I’m right behind you.’
Rachel felt the heat of that momentary possession pass through her body like an electric current. It was only momentary, because she stumbled forward in an effort to shake him off. And almost succeeded in breaking her neck when her foot came out of one of her flip-flops. She felt herself pitching forward, her arms flailing helplessly for the rail.
