idea of selling Lancaster & Son Construction had first formed in India, where he’d escaped to after his cancelled wedding. In a place so different from his familiar world, he’d begun to think of a different way of life—a life he would choose for himself, not have chosen for him.
‘So I’m not in the business of whipping up wedding arches,’ he continued.
‘Oh,’ Kate said, frowning. ‘I got that wrong, didn’t I?’ He already had the impression she might not enjoy being found mistaken in anything.
He threw up his hands in surrender. ‘But, if they want a wedding arch, I’ll do my best to build them one.’
‘No, that’s not it. That was only something I thought about. I wonder why they wanted you there, then?’
He smiled to himself at her frown. It was cute the way she liked to be in the know about everything.
‘I’ve got business with Ben,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure if it’s hush-hush or not, so I won’t say what it is.’
She glanced down at her watch. ‘Well, let’s get there and find out, shall we?’
Kate started to stride out beside him in the direction of the boathouse. He noticed her feet turned out slightly as she walked. The financial controller at his company had a similar gait and she’d told him it was because she’d done ballet as a kid. Kate moved so gracefully he wondered if she was a dancer too. He’d like to see her moving her body in time to music—some sensual, driving rhythm. He could join her and...
Kate paused. ‘Hang on for a minute. The darn strap on the back of these sandals keeps slipping down.’
She leaned down to tug the slender strap back into place, hopping on the other foot to keep her steady. She wobbled, lost her balance, and held on to his shoulder to steady herself with a breathless, ‘Sorry.’
Sam wasn’t sorry at all. He liked her close—her face so near to his, her warmth, her scent that reminded him of oranges and cinnamon. For a moment they stood absolutely still and her eyes widened as they gazed into each other’s faces. He noticed what a pretty mouth she had, the top lip a classic bow shiny with gloss.
He wanted to kiss her.
He fisted his hands by his sides to stop him from reaching for her and pressing his mouth to hers.
He fought the impulse with everything he had.
Because it was too soon.
And he wasn’t sure what the situation was between Kate and Jesse. Earlier today, he hadn’t failed to notice the tension between two people who had professed too vehemently that they were just friends.
* * *
Kate started to wobble again. Darn sandals; she needed to get that strap shortened. Sam reached out to steady her. She gasped at the feel of his hand on her waist, his warmth burning through the fine knit fabric of her dress. She wanted to edge away but if she did there was a very good chance she’d topple over into a humiliating heap on the sand.
She didn’t trust herself to touch him or to be touched. Before she’d called out from the top of the steps, she’d paused to admire him as he’d stood looking out past the waters of Dolphin Bay to the open sea, dusk rapidly approaching. She’d been seared again with that overwhelming attraction.
But that was crazy.
She’d only just faced the reality that Jesse was not the man for her. That she’d been guilty—for whatever reason—of nurturing a crush for way too long on a man whom she only loved like a brother.
Of course, there had been boyfriends in the time between the two kisses. Some she remembered fondly, one with deep regret. But, in recent years, the conviction had been ticking away that one day Jesse and she would be a couple.
That kiss had proved once and for all that Jesse would never, ever be the man for her. There was no chemistry between them.
Could she be interested, so soon, in Sam Lancaster?
He’d changed to loose, drawstring cotton pants in a sludgy khaki and a collarless loose-weave white shirt—both from India, she guessed. The casual clothes made no secret of the powerful shape of his legs and behind, the well-honed muscles of his chest and arms—built up, she suspected, from his life as a builder rather than from hours in the gym.
Now, as he helped her keep her balance, she was intensely aware of the closeness of their bodies: his hand on her waist; her hand on his shoulder; the soft curve of her breast resting lightly against the hard strength of his chest. The hammering of her own heart.
Somewhere there was the swish of the small waves of the bay rushing onto the sand then retreating back into the sea; the rustle of the evening breeze in the trees that grew in the hotel garden; muted laughter from the direction of the boathouse.
But her senses were too overwhelmed by her awareness of Sam to take any of it in. She breathed in the heady aromas of masculine soap and shampoo that told her he was fresh out of the shower.
She was enjoying being close to him—and she shouldn’t be. Three days ago, she’d wanted to kiss Jesse. How could she feel this way about a stranger?
She couldn’t trust feelings that had erupted so easily. She needed time to get over the Jesse thing, to plan where she went to next. Not straight into another impossible crush, that was for sure.
Having Sam around was a distraction. He didn’t look like the man who had battered her young heart—and a good portion of her soul—eight years ago when she’d been twenty, but he was the same type. Sam had that outrageous masculinity; the untamed, ‘don’t give a damn’ look that sang to something wild and feminine and reckless in her—a part of herself she thought she’d long suppressed.
Panic started its heart-stopping, breath-stealing, muscle-tensing attack on her. She took in a deep breath that came out halfway to a sob.
‘You okay?’ Sam’s deep voice was warm with concern.
She pretended to cough. ‘F-fine thanks,’ she said. ‘Just...just a tickle in my throat.’
She dropped her hand from his shoulder and stepped away so his hand fell from her waist. She immediately felt bereft of his touch. With hands that weren’t quite steady, she switched her handbag to her other shoulder.
‘Let me carry that bag for you,’ Sam said, taking it from her, his fingers grazing the bare skin of her arm. It was just a momentary touch but she knew she’d feel it for hours.
‘Th-thanks,’ she stuttered.
He heaved the bag effortlessly over his own shoulder. ‘It weighs a ton; what on earth do you have in it?’
‘Anything and everything. I like to be prepared in case anyone needs stuff. You know—tissues, insect repellent, pain-relievers, tamp— Never mind. My bag’s a bit of a joke with my friends. They reckon anything they need they’ll find in there.’
‘And they probably rely on it. I get the impression you like to look after people.’
‘I guess I do,’ she said. There was no need to mention the accident that
