they were joined in some deeper, primal way. Almost as if they were meant to be like this—close, passionate, exclusive and intense.
‘I said, get off me!’ she raged.
Diego merely angled his chin to stare down at her, as if she were a particularly interesting wild creature of a type he had never encountered before.
‘Don’t you hear me?’ She tried and failed to shake herself free. ‘Don’t you dare look at me like that—don’t you dare smile!’
Diego’s answer was simple. She dragged in a shocked breath as he swung her off her feet and dumped her back on the saddle. Swinging in front of her before she had chance to protest, he started the engine and kicked the stand away. ‘You want a ride?’ he snarled over his shoulder. ‘Then I suggest you hold on.’
A red mist clouded his vision as he powered up the bike. Maxie hadn’t just breached his privacy, she had opened Pandora’s Box on the past. She had insulted him. She had—
No. He refused to contemplate, even for one second, that she might have held up a mirror to his face. He wanted her, but he also wanted her gone. He couldn’t inflict himself on anyone—his leg, his mood, the danger that lurked inside him, all of it poison. She wanted to know why he was here on the island? For everyone’s safety. That was why. She had chosen to ignore the warnings. Her bad luck. She hadn’t seen him like this. She hadn’t seen him with the devil on his back.
They shot away so fast she almost fell off the bike. She clung to Diego as he accelerated, taking the bike at such speed round the first corner that his jean-clad leg brushed the road. Yes, she had ridden a bike before—it was the easiest way to cut through the London traffic—but there was a world of difference between her 125cc commuter bike and Diego’s white-hot Harley.
At first all she could think of was not falling off, but gradually she realised that Diego could ride a bike at speed as well as it could possibly be ridden. She still clung to him like a limpet. Forget prudent, sensible behaviour—this was a matter of staying alive. Resting her cheek against his hard, warm back, she felt his muscles flexing, and against all that was sensible she felt safe. The grey top he was wearing held the scent of soap and warm, clean man. And at least she didn’t have to look into those mocking eyes, Maxie consoled herself—though she did have to be careful where she put hands that badly wanted to explore Diego’s muscle-banded torso. Of course she wouldn’t let them—any more than she would acknowledge the effect of sustained vibration on a body that had been too long without sex.
When he finally stopped the bike she dismounted shakily.
‘Well?’ he demanded.
‘Awesome!’ she exclaimed, before realising Diego expected her to be broken by the experience. But it had been amazing. And if he didn’t like it… ‘I can’t believe I waited so long to do that,’ she said, finger-combing the tangles out of her hair. ‘You’re an amazing rider.’
Easing onto one hip, he stared at her long and hard. ‘You must be a sucker for speed.’
‘Maybe I am,’ she agreed.
Ruffling his hair, he turned away. He couldn’t pretend she hadn’t surprised him. Maxie Parrish was fearless. Was he in such a hurry to get rid of her now? Maybe having company wasn’t all bad. At least Maxie had something about her. Behind that cool exterior was a leather-clad biker-girl with a ferocious temper—which made him wonder what other passions lurked beneath the surface of Maxie’s carefully manufactured veneer. He’d have to be unconscious not to want to find out.
Did they actually have something in common? Maxie wondered, exhilarated by the bike ride. Had the same jolt of electricity joined them briefly?
‘What now?’ she pressed, feeling she could cope with anything. Her lips pressed down with disappointment as she gazed around at the uninspiring shrub and rock. Nothing could compete with that bike ride, and this was the dullest part of the island she’d seen so far.
He only now realised that the passion driving him had brought them to a very interesting part of the island. ‘The Green Caves,’ he informed Maxie.
‘I don’t see anything,’ she said, staring around an apparently empty stretch of ground.
‘That’s because you’re not looking in the right place.’
He took in her flushed face and windswept hair. She looked great.
‘Where am I supposed to be looking?’ she said. ‘There’s nothing but scrub here.’ She gestured around. ‘This definitely wasn’t on my agenda.’
‘Neither was my bike,’ he reminded her. ‘Do you always play by the rules, Maxie?’
‘It’s the safest way,’ she said with a shrug, but she didn’t hold his gaze.
She followed Diego out of curiosity. She wasn’t sure if this was a joke or not. There was nothing to look at of any interest—apart from Diego. He was still limping, but not too badly today. She guessed that was due to the adrenalin coursing through his veins after the ride.
‘Welcome to the Green Caves,’ he said, stopping dead in his tracks.
She followed his stare down to some stone steps cut into the ground.
‘As we’re here,’ he said with matching cool, ‘I might as well show you the underground caves so you can share the info with Holly.’
‘Thanks,’ she said briefly, relieved Diego had got used to the idea of his brother’s wedding being held on the island.
‘Once we’re underground in the Green Caves you must stay close to me.’
No hardship so far. ‘Okay,’ she agreed.
‘Did you put sightseeing on your list for the guests?’
‘Yes,’ she confirmed, ignoring his offer of a steadying hand.
‘Hey!’ he exclaimed, saving her from falling when she stumbled on the steps. ‘I’m supposed to be the one who’s compromised here.’
There was no humour in his voice, or on Diego’s face as he set her back on her feet, but it was the first time he had mentioned his injury, and as steps forward went that wasn’t a bad one. ‘Thanks,’ she said casually as they carried on down the steps in what was almost comfortable silence.
The staircase ended in an underground passageway, dimly lit by some low-voltage lighting. ‘We’re under the sea,’ Diego explained when she paused to listen.
‘And the lights?’
‘Solar panels. Quite a recent addition.’
As he moved on she wondered if Diego felt more relaxed too. More importantly, she wondered if he registered her as a woman at all, or if she was merely someone he felt he had to show round for the sake of his brother? He had never looked more the pirate, with his harsh, chiselled face, but that firm, sensual mouth belonged to a more sophisticated sensualist altogether. And now erotic possibilities were flooding her mind—which was hardly helpful when she needed to be concentrating.
‘The excavation of these caves goes back centuries,’ Diego was explaining. ‘And as each
