It Started With A Kiss: The Secret Love-Child / Facing Up to Fatherhood / Not a Marrying Man. Miranda Lee
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be fine.’
Isabel did just that, and everything was fine, with Rafe starting up the motor as though he’d been doing it all his life, then steering her safely back to the main beach where he eased the small craft expertly into another jetty. His confidence and competence at things marine and mechanical reminded Isabel that men like Rafe did have their uses in life, other than to give women mind-blowing climaxes.
If she kept him coming around occasionally, he could also be called upon to change light-bulbs, put new washers in leaking taps and even mow the lawn. Now that she was a home owner she’d have to do things like that from time to time.
When he climbed up onto the jetty with his back to her she ogled his body quite shamelessly, especially those tight buns, housed as they were tonight in tight black jeans.
‘Now you stop that,’ he said, turning and grinning down at her.
‘Stop what?’ she managed to counter, but her cheeks felt hot.
‘You know what, you disgusting woman.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she parried. ‘Now, help me out of here, and don’t let me fall in the water.’
‘Might do you good. Cool you down a tad.’
Isabel decided she really couldn’t let him get away with mocking her. Her glance was cool as a cucumber. ‘I thought you liked me hot and wet, not cold and wet.’ And she swept past him.
Rafe watched her stalk off up the jetty and smiled. She was a one all right. More sassy and sexy than any woman he’d ever met.
But he had her measure. She liked him. She didn’t want to but she did. That was why she was going to such great pains to put him in his place all the time. What she didn’t realise was that fate might have already propelled him out of his role as temporary lover into possibly something far more permanent. Father of her child.
Mmm. That was another thing he had to check up on. What the odds were of that.
‘Where are we going for dinner exactly?’ she asked him when he caught up and took her arm.
‘To the Hibiscus Restaurant. This way.’ He guided her along the planked walkway which connected the jetty to the main resort buildings which sat in several acres of tropical gardens just behind the beach.
Aside from the reception area, which also encompassed the island store, there was a five-star hotel nestled amongst the palms which boasted two à la carte restaurants, a buffet-style bistro, a couple of bars, a casino games room and a pool which, from the brochures, had to be seen to be believed. One of the restaurants was called the Hibiscus, named no doubt after the lovely tropical flower which grew in abundance on the island.
‘I booked a table there while you were in the shower,’ he told her. ‘The woman on the other end of the phone said it was the most romantic of the restaurants here. I gather she thought we were honeymooners.’
‘And you didn’t tell her we weren’t,’ Isabel said drily.
‘Goodness, no. That way, we were assured of a good table. She said since it was a balmy night she’d give us one of the ones on the terrace overlooking the pool.’
‘Con artist,’ Isabel scorned.
‘Just being my usual clever charming self.’
‘Arrogant and egotistical, that’s what you are.’
‘You like me arrogant and egotistical.’
‘Only in bed.’
‘People spend a third of their lives in bed. Except when they’re on a pretend honeymoon. Then, they spend nearly all of it.’
Isabel laughed. And why not? Rafe had to be one of the most entertaining men she’d ever been with. It was impossible not to surrender to his charm, or be amused by his wit, which was wicked and dry, just the way she liked it.
‘I love it when you laugh,’ he said. ‘You look even more beautiful when you laugh.’
‘Do stop flattering me, Rafe. I might get used to it.’
‘Ooh, and wouldn’t that be dreadful?’
‘Not so dreadful. Just unwise.’
‘Why?’
She sighed as her good humour faded. ‘I told you once before, Rafe. I don’t want to have another relationship with a man whose idea of a relationship begins and ends in the bedroom.’
‘And you think that’s all I’d ever want from you?’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘That depends.’
‘On what?’
On whether you’re carrying my child…
‘On how good you can cook,’ he quipped.
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘You’re saying the way to your heart is through your stomach? I don’t believe it.’
‘I do like my food. This way to the Hibiscus,’ he directed on seeing an arrowed sign veering off to the right through the gardens. ‘Mmm, I wonder what their wine list is like? Since there’s no extra charge, I’ll order a different bottle with each course.’
‘I’m not going back in that tin-can with you if you’ve been drinking heavily,’ she warned.
‘Me, neither. If I feel I’m over the limit, we’ll get someone else to take us back. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ She nodded. ‘And don’t encourage me to drink too much, either. I still haven’t got over the hangover I had from my last binge.’
‘Yes, but that was hard liquor. A few glasses of wine won’t hurt.’
‘Mmm. You’d say that. You’re probably trying to get me drunk so that you can have your wicked way with me.’
He laughed. ‘Honey, I don’t have to get you drunk to do that.’
Isabel winced. ‘I asked for that one, didn’t I?’
He gave her an affectionate squeeze. ‘Don’t be silly. I love the way you are.’
Isabel didn’t doubt it. Men had always been partial to whores.
Her stomach turned over at this last thought. She wasn’t a whore, but maybe, in Rafe’s eyes, she was acting like one. There again, maybe not. Rafe was not a narrow-minded man, and he didn’t seem to be afflicted with that dreadful set of double standards which some men dragged up to make women feel guilty about their sexuality.
Her mother, however, wouldn’t be impressed with the way she’d been behaving.
Isabel suppressed a groan. Why, oh why did she have to think of her mother? The woman was out of the ark when it came to her views on such things. She didn’t appreciate that the world was a different world now. Marriage couldn’t be relied upon any more to provide a woman with security for life. And men…men couldn’t be relied upon at all!
‘You’ve gone all quiet on me,’ Rafe said worriedly.
‘Just thinking.’
‘Thinking can be bad for you.’
‘What do you recommend?’
‘Talking is good. And so, sometimes, is drinking. You could do with a measure of both.’
‘You conniving devil. You just want to find out all my secrets.’
‘You mean you have some?’
‘Don’t we all?’
‘My life is an open book.’
‘Huh! Any man with designer stubble and a phantom’s head in his ear has to have some secrets.’
‘Not me. What you see