a longing to be skimming along the crystal waters, all her cares forgotten.
Maurice herded them along the main pier, then on to one of the branches. It soon became obvious that they were heading for a large white yacht where a man could be seen busily coiling rope. He glanced up as he heard them approaching, stretching to his full height, and Reba found her steps slowing, so that she was at the back of the group. She heard Maurice speaking, but it seemed to come from a great distance as she stared at the stranger.
He was tall, fair and tanned, but that wasn’t what brought the sensitive hairs all over her body to attention. He was pure male power, barely leashed. His blond hair was untamed, his blue eyes wild and compelling. He took the word handsome to the edge—and beyond. His clothes were clean but well-worn, the white vest clinging to every muscled inch of his chest, down to where the low-slung denims took over, their faded cloth straining at long powerful legs and the tears at the knees only adding to his incredible presence. He exuded a potency she had never encountered before. It called to her, and she responded on a primitive level.
As if becoming aware of her gaze, his head turned, searching, and her golden eyes met and locked on to a pair of deep blue ones. All the air seemed to leave her body in a rush. She thought, I know this man. He’s no stranger. I seem to have known him forever. It was the weirdest thing, and, what was more uncanny, he seemed to sense it too, for he went quite still. Without a word a message was sent and answered, and the world changed.
Maurice had been talking to the man, but he faltered when he realised he wasn’t being heard, and turned to find what had caught the other man’s attention. Reba was oblivious to more than one head turning, and only jolted out of the trance she appeared to be in when someone sniggered. Realising she was now the focus of everyone’s attention, a hot tide of embarrassment coloured her cheeks. Her heart was thumping fit to burst, and she glanced down quickly at her feet, trying to regain her composure. What on earth had just happened?
‘How sweet,’ Magda drawled snidely. ‘I do believe Reba has just fallen in love with the deck-hand!’
A jolt of shock ran through Reba at those words. Fallen in love? But she couldn’t have! Could she? Yet what else could explain this strange excitement inside her? The fizzing of her blood which made her feel more alive than she had ever been in her life?
Was this love?
‘You’d better snap out of it, Reba. Maurice looks like he’s going to throw a fit,’ Linda hissed in her ear, and Reba started, realising that they were the only two still left on the jetty. Everyone else was waiting on board, showing various degrees of impatience.
‘Sorry,’ Reba apologised, commanding her legs to move her forwards. She could feel eyes on her, but only one pair counted. A hand appeared to help her aboard, and she took it automatically, gasping as a frisson of electricity shot up her arm, and once more she met those incredible eyes.
‘Welcome aboard,’ he said easily, but there was a husky note to it, as if he had had trouble forcing the words out.
All her composure seemed to leave her in a flash. Her smile was wobbly, and her eyes questioned his, receiving an almost solar flare of emotion in return. Exhilarated and afraid all at once, she pulled free. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered, moving away, although it seemed incredibly hard to do.
‘Hi, I’m Linda,’ she heard the other girl say from behind her. ‘In case you’re interested, her name’s Reba.’
The man’s laugh was throaty and appreciative, and turned Reba’s stomach into knots. ‘Thanks, Linda. Hunter Jamieson.’
Hunter. She liked the sound of that. It suited him. Hunter…She daydreamed, and, for once in her life, the preparations for setting sail failed to hold her attention. In fact the whole day’s shooting became something of a dream. The man called Hunter never spoke to her, nor she to him, but she was vitally aware of his presence moving around the boat. It was as if she had suddenly become attuned to his frequency, and she didn’t have to look at him to know where he was.
She couldn’t concentrate properly, but must have done all that was expected of her because Maurice didn’t throw a tantrum. Yet it was hard to look at the camera when her eyes constantly wanted to stray. When they did, they clashed with blue ones intent on the same thing.
At the end of the day it was hard to leave the yacht, for it felt as if she were leaving part of herself behind. She had never felt this way before, and when she looked in the mirror in the privacy of her hotel room she found her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glittering. She saw a creature she no longer recognised. Every feature was the same, and yet not the same.
Of course it was impossible to sit still, and she went through the motions of preparing for dinner. She showered and washed her hair, slipping into a full-skirted, halter-necked sundress and comfortable espadrilles. However, she didn’t go down to the restaurant. Her stomach was churning too much for food. Something was calling to her, something stronger than any other need. As the sun began to set, she grabbed up her purse and a thin shawl and left, obeying an instinct as old as time itself.
The harbour was still alive with people, but as she made her way through the marina she met fewer and fewer. Most were out enjoying themselves, probably having dinner, and for a moment her heart failed her as she realised Hunter might not be on the yacht. Yet she need not have worried, for as she approached the boat she saw that there was light in the cabin, and as she came alongside he appeared on deck. Without a word he held out a hand, and she put hers into it and allowed him to help her aboard.
There was a moment when they simply gazed at each other, then Hunter smiled, and used his free hand to brush away a strand of hair which the impish breeze had blown across her face.
‘I knew you’d come,’ he said softly, yet with a certainty she couldn’t question.
‘Yes,’ she breathed, unable to deny it. Her eyes drank him in. Incredible to think they had only met hours ago, and yet it felt as if she had never belonged anywhere else. This evening he had changed into white chinos and a short-sleeved shirt, but they didn’t disguise the powerful body beneath.
He didn’t seem to mind her looking, nor did he release her hand. He studied her face as if he was imprinting it forever in his memory. ‘You have amazing eyes.’
‘So do you,’ she returned inanely, and flushed when he laughed. Yet there was no unkindness in it, more a release from the same tension that gripped her.
‘You don’t act like a model.’
Reba smiled up at him. ‘That’s what I do, not who I am.’
A strange light flickered at the back of his eyes. ‘And who are you, Reba?’
‘Just a woman,’ she told him simply, and watched fascinated as his mouth curved seductively as he smiled.
‘Oh, I’ll most definitely agree with that. You’re very much a woman,’ Hunter concurred huskily. ‘Have you eaten?’
The prosaic question made her realise that now she was quite incredibly hungry. ‘No.’
His fingers tightened on hers. ‘Good. I hope you like fish.’
Belatedly she became aware that behind him a table had been set for two, and from down below came the mouth-watering aroma of cooking. ‘I love it.’
Hunter dragged a hand through his hair, lips curving. ‘Somehow I knew you would,’
