laid both hands over his heart and she chuckled. ‘The day I wound that enormous ego of yours is the day I’ll go skinny-dipping in the Pacific Ocean.’
‘I’m wounded! I’m wounded!’
He fell to the sand in a pathetic heap, writhing as if he’d just been stung by a lethal jellyfish, and she laughed.
‘I’m going to dry off. When you’ve finished with the theatrics, I’ll see you up there.’
She pointed to the palm trees and headed off, ignoring his call of, ‘You’re no fun.’
She knew he’d meant it as a joke, a fly-away comment, but the words echoed as she towelled off.
She wasn’t fun—didn’t know how to have fun. Not when she’d spent her whole life trying to do the right thing.
Beth had once called her a nerd, and she’d shrugged, pushed her tortoiseshell glasses up her nose and scuffed her sensible shoes, agreeing with the assessment but hurt all the same.
Everyone saw her the same way: no fun. People at work, her cousin, even Zac—and while his opinion shouldn’t matter, considering she wouldn’t see him after the end of next week, it did. As he joined her, and she watched water droplets run in rivulets down his muscular torso as he bent to pick up his towel, she really, really wished her newfound confidence extended to having a little fun.
‘I’m just going to dry off in the sun for a while,’ she said. And blink away the sudden sting of tears for feeling inadequate and inexperienced and inept.
‘Don’t be too long. These UVs can seriously burn.’
She grabbed her towel and laid it on the sand a few feet away—an ill-chosen spot, considering she had a clear view of him stretched flat on his back—his long, lean body, his abdominals composed of ridges of hard muscle…
She squeezed her eyes shut to blot out the tempting image, and must have dozed, for it seemed like an eternity later when his voice roused her.
‘Excuse me, sun goddess, you should come into the shade now.’
Her eyes fluttered open and she stretched, feeling rested and composed and completely tear-free.
‘Nice of you to be so concerned.’
She picked up her towel and flung it next to his, putting enough space between them to ensure no accidental contact.
‘I’ll admit my concern is altruistic. I don’t want to rub lotion on you again.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I enjoyed it way too much.’
His gaze trailed over her body, lingering on every area he’d rubbed earlier and everywhere in between, and darn it if that prickly itch didn’t start up again.
She quirked an eyebrow. ‘If you enjoyed something as mundane as rubbing suntan lotion on my back, you must get out even less than I do.’
He leaned forward, too close, too masculine—too everything. ‘Go on—admit it.’
She bit her lip, inched back. ‘Admit what?’
‘You enjoyed it too.’
His grin was pure temptation, and she waved her hand in front of her face as if swatting away a particularly bothersome fly.
‘The only thing I’ll admit is finding your incessant flirting extremely tiresome.’
His smile faded at the same moment the sun ducked behind a cloud. Both left her slightly chilled.
‘Do you really feel that way?’ he asked.
Her heart stuttered as she searched for a suitable answer. What could she say? That she didn’t believe his compli-ments? That her self-confidence was so shot by a guy who’d used slick words before that she couldn’t trust easily? That she wished she could believe one tenth of his attention was real and not just his natural instinct to charm? That she hid behind sharp retorts, using them as a barrier against her insecurities?
She settled for semi-truth, feeling a tad guilty her barb had tarnished what had been an enjoyable day.
‘Honestly? I’m not used to the attention.’
He couldn’t have looked more surprised if she’d stripped off in front of him.
‘You said things ended with your ex three years ago, but you date, right?’
Heck, look what she’d got herself into now. She could lie, but she’d always been lousy at it. Beth said her mouth had pursed into a strange prune shape the few times she’d tried it, and she already had him staring at her as if she was nuts.
‘My last date was with George Clooney, Brad Pitt and Matt Damon.’
He smiled. ‘Ocean’s Eleven fan, huh?’
‘Oh, yeah.’
He reached out, touched her hand. She flinched, silently cursing her reaction.
‘Hell, Lana, I’m not some kind of monster. I like you. I want to get to know you better.’
She shook her head, using her hair as a shield to hide her face. ‘What’s the point? I’m off the ship next week, so why get to know each other?’
‘Because it could be fun.’
Her gaze snapped to his. She was surprised by the serious glint in those deep blue eyes. She’d seen him cheeky, teasing, even wicked, but it was the first time she’d seen this solemn expression fixing her with concern.
‘Fun? The only fun a guy like you would be interested in over the next week is a fling. And I’m not that kind of girl.’
His eyes darkened to midnight, disappointment flickering in their depths. ‘You don’t have a very high opinion of me, do you?’
She shrugged, hating that they were having this conversation, hating that she’d put a dampener on what had been a lovely day.
‘You’re a guy. You’re a sailor. You meet women all the time. You’re a master at flirting. The only reason you’re paying me any attention is because of that stupid challenge I threw down the first night on the spur of the moment, because I couldn’t think of anything else quick enough to get rid of you.’ She took a deep breath, a steadying breath, clenching her hands to stop them from shaking. ‘It’s nothing personal. I understand that. You see me as some sort of challenge because I’m not falling at your feet like the rest of the female population probably does. You—’
‘You’re wrong. Dead wrong.’
He leaped from his towel and started pacing the sand with long, angry strides that showed he was wrestling with something. The truth, perhaps?
‘Am I?’
Her almost-whisper stopped him dead and he swivelled to face her, dropping down on his knees in front
