can cope with using my hands to eat as long as I clean up first. Is that sink over there for washing?’
He nodded. ‘Follow me.’
As they soaped and scrubbed his hand brushed hers and she jumped, the innocuous touch raising an awareness she’d determinedly subdued since last night.
He stared at her, an eyebrow raised, and she managed a weak smile. ‘I think our food’s getting cold.’
First to break the stare, she turned away, feeling hot and clammy and out of her depth. He’d moved the boundaries with those kisses, had changed everything with his admission of how much he wanted her, and no matter how hard she pretended she could handle it, she couldn’t cast off all her reservations at once.
With her head urging her to take a chance for once, and her heart scared of the consequences if she did, she headed back to the table.
This was going to be a long day.
Zac followed Lana back to the table, loving how she moved, all fluid lines and sinuous elegance.
Her long turquoise dress, surely a reject from the seventies, flowed from her shoulders to mid-calf, skimming curves along the way. He could see the straps of a bright pink bikini poking through, and he hardened immediately at the thought of seeing her in it. If the vision of her hot little bod in that dreadful neck-to-toe one-piece had been haunting his dreams, he could hardly wait to see her curves revealed in a bikini.
She’d pulled her curly hair back in a loose ponytail, and he longed to reach out and wrap the tendrils that curled at the base of her neck around his fingers. He loved her hair, loved watching it bounce against her shoulders as she walked.
A vivid image of that hair draped over his torso popped into his mind and he almost stumbled. This would be one hell of a tour if he walked around with a hard-on all day.
Determined to ignore his libido, he sat and pushed a platter of naan towards her. ‘Let’s eat.’
‘Everything looks delicious.’
‘Wait till you try it.’
He ladled a serving of dahl and korma onto her leaf, then reached for a naan. Her fingertips brushed his as he reached for the same piece and he clenched his jaw in frustration.
It wasn’t deliberate—one look at her shy gaze firmly fixed on her banana leaf told him that—and he needed to get a grip before he made a mess of things, as he had last night.
He broke off a piece of the soft, doughy bread, dipped it into the pungent curry sauce and stuffed it into his mouth before he said something he’d regret, like, Let’s get out of here and get naked.’
‘Mmm, divine.’
Her tongue flicked out to capture a drip of sauce and he stifled a groan, focusing on the unique blend of spices hitting his tastebuds rather than how much he’d like to lick away that spillage.
He needed to talk, to draw attention away from how much he wanted her, to focus on anything other than the driving, obsessive need to get her naked and moaning his name while he plunged into her.
‘Sujit whips up the best Indian food I’ve ever had. It rivals some of the feasts I’ve had in Singapore and India for authenticity.’
‘You’ve been around, haven’t you?’
‘Yeah—definitely a perk of the job. I’ve travelled almost everywhere.’
‘Any favourites?’
He’d steered the conversation onto safe ground only to be diverted by the small moans of pleasure she made between mouthfuls, and he gulped his entire glass of water before answering.
‘Probably Alaska, for its glaciers. I’ve cruised the Inside Passage from Vancouver, and the ship usually spends a day in Glacier Bay. It’s amazing that ships like ours, which weigh around seventy thousand tons, can sail to within a mile of those monsters. I’ve even seen huge chunks of ice sliding off the face.’
Maybe he should focus on that ice, focus on all that cold—anything to dampen the urge to leap across the table and drag her into his arms as she stared at him with wide-eyed awe.
‘I also love the Mediterranean. Especially Italy. Capri is great, with its ancient cobbled streets and home-made pastas.’
He could have regaled her with tales of his travels all day, particularly as her wide, luminous eyes were fixed on him, her expression fascinated, but the longer she stared at him the harder it was to forget every sane reason why he couldn’t push their involvement—no matter how much he wanted to.
He’d seen the devastation in her eyes last night, the lingering hurt from the jerk who had screwed her around, and her desolation at having their relationship labelled a fling.
He’d planned on backing away then, but once he’d taken her on deck, once he’d kissed her, his plans to leave her alone had drifted away on the night air.
He wouldn’t hurt her by having a fling. But he couldn’t offer her anything else, considering where he’d be for the next year. So where the hell did that leave them?
For now, he’d keep things light. He’d promised her a tour today—the least he could do after she’d come through for him with the exercise classes—and he’d make it a fun day for her if it killed him.
‘You know, the South Pacific islands are growing in my favourite places ranking all the time.’ He leaned forward and crooked a finger at her. ‘I think the present company has a lot to do with that.’
She blinked, as if startled by his compliment, and he wished he could wring her ex’s neck for battering her self-esteem to the point where she couldn’t accept a compliment without embarrassment.
‘You mean Sujit? I totally agree. His food is to die for. I haven’t been to those other places, but I’d definitely put Fiji first on my list.’
He grinned at her clever sidestep, but he wasn’t done yet. ‘What about Noumea? How high should New Caledonia rate? I hear their moonlit beaches are magical.’
The recollection of their first kiss stained her cheeks pink. Her eyes dipped to her banana leaf as he belatedly remembered he was trying to cool down, not get more wound up.
She waved towards the food. ‘You’ll give me indigestion, flirting on an empty stomach. At least let me put a dent in this feast before you turn on the charm.’
He laughed, more relaxed than he’d been in years despite his desperate yearning for her. It had been that long since he’d enjoyed a woman’s company enough to spend more than a few hours with her, and while he’d dated infrequently, he’d never experienced such a connection on so many levels with any woman. Not even Magda—and he’d married her.
‘Let’s finish up and hit the road. I can’t wait to show you the island’s best beach. It’s isolated, so tourists haven’t wrecked it.’
She mumbled an acknowledgement and focussed on her food. He wondered what he’d said. She’d been cool one moment, and perspiration covering her skin in a delectable sheen the next. A sheen that had him envisaging all sorts
