A Secret Worth Keeping?. Robyn Donald
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of the South Pacific Ocean rolling onto the beach. The coastline reminded him a little of his house on Phillip Island, near Melbourne, although he knew the water there was at least ten degrees cooler and a hundred times rougher.
Miller stopped and started walking, her hands on her hips, and Valentino joined her.
‘You can keep going if you want,’ she panted.
He glanced at her. He could keep going but he didn’t want to. What he wanted was to stop thinking about the past and make her smile. Like she had back in their room. He wondered what she did for fun, and then wondered why he cared.
‘You work out a lot?’ he asked.
She glanced at him, and he tensed when her eyes dropped to his stomach as he used his T-shirt to wipe a line of sweat off his brow. He knew she was attracted to him, maybe even as attracted as he was to her, but he also knew it would be stupid to follow up on that attraction. Not only did she not want it—he didn’t either. And, while his body might have ideas to the contrary, his body was just an instrument for his mind, not the other way around.
‘I go to the gym three times a week and try to go for a run along the Manly foreshore on the weekend.’
She walked in a small circle to ease the lactic acid burn from her legs.
‘You do weights?’
‘Some. Mainly light weights. Although I missed every one of my workouts this week due to work, so no doubt when I start back Monday morning I’ll be a little sore.’
‘Do some now.’
She cast her eyes from the sparkling ocean to the sand dunes behind them. ‘I’m sorry, but if you see a weight machine anywhere around here you’re on your own.’
He laughed. ‘There’s a lot you can do without machines. Trust me. This is part of my day job. Why don’t we start with some ab crunches?’
He lay on his back and started curling his head towards his bent knees. He’d made it to twenty when out of the corner of his eye he saw her reluctantly join him. He wasn’t sure why that pleased him so much.
She kept pace for a minute, then fell back on the sand. ‘I’ve been running for a while but I’m still pretty new at the gym thing,’ she said.
‘Okay, now squats.’
Miller groaned. ‘I really don’t like squats.’
‘No one likes squats except bodybuilders.’
She laughed and the husky sound made his stomach grip.
‘Come on.’ His voice was gruff, unnatural sounding.
She jumped lithely to her feet and he couldn’t look away from the toned muscles in her thighs as she braced her legs slightly apart.
‘Raise your arms overhead as you go down. And keep your chest up.’ He cleared his throat, trying to concentrate on her technique rather than recalling the feel of her peaked nipple pressing eagerly into his palm. ‘Squeeze your glutes and extend through your hips as you come up.’
He’d need to dunk himself in the ocean at this rate, but at least his mind was fully focused on something other than racing again.
‘Am I getting a personal training session now?’ She grinned at him, but didn’t stop.
‘Maybe.’ He returned her smile. ‘I do aim to please.’
‘What’s next?’ She breathed deep and shook out her legs.
Tino could think of a lot of ‘nexts’ that involved her horizontal on the soft sand without the top and shorts, but he shouldn’t even be thinking like that.
He sucked in a litre of air and took her through a couple of other light exercises. ‘Push-ups.’
Miller grimaced. ‘Oh, great. You’re hitting all my favourites.’
She got down on the sand and started pushing herself up, her knees bent.
‘They’re not real push-ups,’ he teased.
‘Yes, they are!’ After twenty she collapsed and rolled onto her back. ‘Okay, that’s it. Those and the bench press are my weakest exercises.’
He absently noted how the sun had turned her hair to burnished copper, with some of the tendrils around her temples darkened with sweat. Her cheeks were pink from exertion, her chest heaving...
Don’t even go there, Ventura.
‘That just means you have to do more of them.’
Miller turned her head towards him and her eyes sparkled as blue as the ocean behind her. ‘Oh, darn. No bench press. What a shame.’
Tino smiled. So she did have a sense of humour.
Lifting from his sitting position beside her, he came over the top of her, before he could talk himself out of it, his body hovering far too close to her own.
Her eyes flew wide and her hands fluttered between them, the pulse-point at the base of her throat hammering wildly. ‘Valentino, what are you doing?’
He liked the way she used the full version of his name. Breathless. Husky.
‘Accommodating you.’ His own voice was rough again, as if he’d swallowed a mouthful of sand, and he hoped to hell she hadn’t noticed that he was already fully hard. ‘I’ll be your bench press.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
He braced himself on his arms and lowered his upper body slightly over hers. ‘Hands on my shoulders,’ he commanded.
When she put them there he barely suppressed the shudder that ran the length of his whole body.
She shifted beneath him. Swallowed. ‘This won’t work,’ she said, but she didn’t remove her hands. ‘You’re too big.’
Her eyes met his and the air between them sizzled.
She was wrong. This wasn’t silly. This was way beyond silly. ‘Ten reps. Go.’ He just wanted them out of the way now.
She pushed at his shoulders and he mentally worked his way through every component of a car engine as they moved in unison. He could feel her hot breath on his neck as she exhaled and he dared not look at anything but the sand above her head.
Of all the lame-brain things to do...
He paused when he felt her weaken, intent on pushing himself away from her, but he made the mistake of looking down into eyes that had gone indigo with desire.
The sound of seagulls squalling couldn’t even distract him from the hunger that burned a hole in his belly.
Her hands slipped down his arms, shaping his muscles, and her eyes drifted to his mouth. ‘Valentino...’
Her husky plea weakened him more than fifty reps with twenty-five-pound dumbbells could and, groaning deep in his chest, he lowered his head and captured her soft mouth with his own.
* * *
Miller was aware of every hard inch of Valentino’s male flesh pressing her into the sand. Her own body throbbing as if it was on fire, totally drugged by his heat, his smell, his taste. She couldn’t remember why this was a bad idea. No rational words remained in her head to rein in her pleasure-fuelled body. Her arousal with him in bed earlier had returned full-force.
Impatient with a need she’d never felt before, she swept her hands down his back and then smoothed them up under his sweaty shirt. He groaned approvingly and with his elbows either side of her face cradled the back of her head, angling her so that his skilful mouth could ravage her lips, his moist tongue plundering and duelling with her own in a way that made the ache between her legs become almost painful.
She felt his other hand drift over her torso, feather-light as if learning her shape, his fingertips moving closer and closer to the tip of one breast. Moaning,