afternoon breeze rustled through the palm fronds, and seagulls squawked overhead, her eyes glistened and her brow furrowed more.
“Still, you … you seem familiar.”
Really?
Maybe it was more than seaside memories that made her seem familiar too. Had they met before? At a dinner? Maybe they lived in the same neighbourhood? Potts Point, Sydney, was pricey, but then anyone vacationing at Diamond Shores had money and plenty of it.
Before he could ask, she held her head and groaned over an apologetic smile.
“I’m all muddled. My head feels like it’s packed with cotton wool.”
“I’m not surprised.”
She needed that knock checked out properly, along with some painkillers and an appropriate bandage for her foot. She needed civilisation, asap.
“Give me a moment,” he said, determined to ignore the creak of tightening hamstrings, “and I’ll get you to a doctor.”
The island enjoyed a full-time physician, as well as a seaplane and an emergency helicopter, both of which, he believed, served French champagne. Luxury at its decadent best.
“That’d be great,” she said, tipping up. “You can lend me an arm. Or I could use a branch for a crutch.”
He urged her back down. She needed to rest and lie flat. “You’re not walking anywhere.”
Her doubtful gaze drilled his. “What’ll we do, then? Close our eyes and click our heels three times?”
He grinned. Cute.
“I’ll carry you.”
“All the way to the resort?” She half coughed, half laughed. “Your arms will break off.”
He cocked a brow. “I assure you they won’t.”
Her cheeks pinked up before she gave a conciliatory sigh. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done. You’ve been two hundred percent chivalrous and I’ll be forever grateful. But I’m not exactly a flyweight.”
Correct. She was shapely. Voluptuous, really. Precisely how a woman ought to be.
He cut short his discreet assessment at the same time as she pushed back up on her elbows and sent over an all-settled, I’m-used-to-getting-my-own-way smile. “So, we’re agreed?”
His hand on her shoulder eased her down again. “Lie flat.” She didn’t need to risk nausea or dizziness. “I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”
“That can’t include giving yourself a heart attack.” Her eyes lit up. “I know. You can go for help and I’ll wait here.”
“You need medical attention now, not later.”
Besides, he wouldn’t leave her alone. She might get it into her head that she knew best and try to limp back to the resort.
“You don’t understand,” she said. “I was big-boned before getting friendly with the food here. If you’ve tried the desserts, you’ll know you can’t stop at one.”
Her lush lips were soft and parted now, and a delicate pulse beat at the base of her throat. I wonder what that pulse would feel like against my tongue? Gabriel thought.
Wonder what she’d be like in bed?
“Hello?” she cooed. “Are you listening?”
He grunted, drove a hand through his hair. “Sure. Delicious. No control.”
She nodded, then winced and touched her head. “You’re all fired up, and obviously capable, but I can’t have you putting your back out.” She pushed up again. “And, seeing I have final say in the matter—”
“Absolutely you have a say.” He tipped her back down. “You can say, Yes, sir.”
Her mouth dropped open and a mew of outrage escaped.
Doubly determined, she pushed up again. “I didn’t realise I’d joined the army.”
“I’ll count to three,” he warned, half hoping she’d defy him.
She didn’t disappoint. “I’m more than capable of making my own decisions, thank you very much.”
Done with words, he pointed at the ground. When her face hardened with a you-can’t-make-me look, his jaw shifted. He admired spunk, but only one person was in charge here and it was time she learned who that was.
In one smooth, purposeful movement, he angled closer, crowding her back as he bent forward until, eyes gone wide, she lay horizontal again. By the time he stopped crowding, his head was slanted over hers and their mouths all but touched.
His gaze licked her lips as he grinned.
“You were saying?”
CHAPTER TWO
STARING into the wicked eyes of a beast, Nina kept still and swallowed hard.
There she’d been, wondering if she could possibly get out of that fix alive, then pow! So broad through the chest, so capable and infuriatingly confident, this superhero type showed up out of nowhere.
But she was confused. Where did he fit on her character chart? Was this man exceptionally good, or primarily perfectly bad?
Anyone with half a brain and a pair of scales must see he couldn’t carry her all the way back to the resort. Nevertheless, he hadn’t merely dismissed her suggestions. He’d gone so far as to pin her body beneath his to get his point across.
She was trapped. She should be fuming!
Instead her nerve-endings simmered with indisputable awareness, and her fuzzy brain kept wondering how well his lips might fit closed over hers.
“You’re quiet,” he noted, his mouth a hair’s breadth from hers.
Wondering if he might manacle her wrists next—and not wholly against the idea—she squirmed. “I’m thinking.”
“About behaving, I hope.”
His voice was rough, dangerously deep, and the whisper of his breath against her lips felt far less invasive than it ought to.
“Do I need to point out,” she said, “that I’m not the one behaving badly?”
“Won’t make a difference. If I let you have your way, you could do yourself another injury.” Wet dark hair flopped over his brow when he cocked his head. “Or would you rather I ignore the fact you might have concussion?”
“I’d rather you quit with the caveman mentality.”
He growled and leaned a smidge closer. “You’re only alive because that caveman mentality got me to you before the sharks tucked in for dinner.”
