The Far Side of Paradise. Robyn Donald
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to the beach hut, the curve of his firmly chiselled mouth had made his striking, hard-edged face seem both cynical and forbidding.
Safely in the small building, she wondered if anything ever did soften those arrogant features. When he kissed …?
She tried to imagine being kissed by Cade Peredur. Heat sizzled through her at the thought, but she couldn’t see his face softening into a look of … well, love was out of the question, but what about lust?
The word soften just didn’t fit the man. In his world it took an intimidating blend of brains, courage and formidable will to reach the top of the tree. When he kissed a woman it would be as a conqueror.
Hastily, she stripped off her clothes, pulling a face as she discarded them. They smelt disgusting—a mixture of smoke and sweat. They looked horrible too, both shorts and T-shirt smeared with ashy smudges and black marks. Even her bikini stank of the fire.
So, probably, did her hair and her skin.
Blissfully, she washed it all off in the sea’s warm caress. A few minutes after she waded into the water, she caught movement on the beach from the corner of her eye and inched her head around so she could watch Cade Peredur stride across the sand.
Her heart jumped, startling her. Formidably and blatantly male, he seemed like some potent, elemental figure from the dawn of time—sunlit bronze skin and a perfect male body showing off sleek muscles that proclaimed strength and energy.
Some of which she could do with right now. Deep in the pit of her stomach, that hidden part of her contracted and sent another hot wave of sensation through her.
Lust, she thought, trying to douse it with a prosaic and practical attitude.
Although she’d never experienced anything so powerful before, this keen urgency that alerted every cell, tightening her skin and making her heart race, was merely run-of-the-mill physical attraction.
And if she tried to act on it, she knew exactly and in humiliating detail what would happen next; it would vanish, leaving her cold and shaking with that familiar fear. But even those mortifying memories couldn’t banish the shimmers of sensation that pulsed through her, stimulating and undisciplined.
She turned away when Cade dropped his towel and made a fluid racing dive off the rocks at the side of the bay. An unexpected wave caught her—unexpected because she was too busy drooling over the man, she thought furiously as she inhaled water. Spluttering, she spat out a mouthful of salt water and coughed a couple of times to clear her lungs, opening her eyes to see her host heading towards her, strong arms cutting through the waves.
Oh, how … how inane! She’d probably just convinced him she wasn’t safe in a shower, let alone the sea.
Sure enough, he trod water when he reached her and demanded, ‘Are you all right?’
The sun-dazzled sparkles of water clogging her lashes surrounded him with an aura, a dynamic charge of power that paradoxically made her feel both weak and energised at the same time.
‘Fine,’ she returned, only a little hoarse from the dousing. Her heart was thudding as though she’d swum several kilometres through raging surf.
Get a grip, she commanded.
The last time she’d felt anything remotely like this she’d been nineteen and amazingly naive. She’d decided it had to be love, and became engaged on the strength of it. What a disaster that had turned out to be!
But there was nothing girlishly callow about her response to this man. Her body throbbed with a dark, potent sexuality unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.
She’d deal with that later. Right now, she had to get herself back onto an even keel.
Somehow she managed to produce a smile and said the first thing that popped into her head. ‘Race you to shore.’
Cade’s brows shot up as though she’d surprised him, but he recovered instantly. ‘You get a handicap.’
‘OK,’ she agreed.
However, even with the handicap, he beat her comfortably. At least swimming as fast and as hard as she’d ever done worked off some of that wildfire energy.
When she stood up he said, ‘You’re good.’
‘I was brought up almost in the water,’ she said, breathing fast. He too, she noted with satisfaction, was breathing more heavily than normal. She added, ‘My parents love the sea so much they called me after it.’
‘Taryn?’
‘No, Taryn is apparently derived from an Irish word meaning rocky hill. I had an Irish grandmother. But my second name is Marisa, which is from a Latin word meaning the sea.’
He observed dryly, ‘It’s a very pretty name, but I don’t think it would help if you got cramps and there was no one around to help.’
‘I’ve never had even the slightest twinge of cramp,’ she said defensively, extremely aware of the way water gleamed along the muscular breadth of his shoulders, highlighting the effortless power beneath the skin. ‘Anyway, I know how to deal with it.’
‘Those medical parents?’
‘And a Pacific upbringing,’ she said shortly. ‘Want to know how it’s done?’
He laughed. ‘Like you, I’ve never had cramp, but just in case—yes, demonstrate.’
When he laughed he was really something, she thought confusedly. Trying to speak prosaically, she said, ‘First you change your kick. That often works. If it doesn’t, take a deep breath and float face down, then pull your leg up, grab your foot and yank it upwards.’
She demonstrated, glad to be able to hide her face in the water for a few seconds. When she’d finished, she stood up and said, ‘That almost always does the trick, I’m told.’
But he wasn’t going to let her off so easily. Bumblebees zoomed through her bloodstream when he scanned her face with hooded blue-grey eyes. ‘And if it doesn’t?’
‘Assume the same position and massage the offending muscle,’ she told him succinctly, taking a surreptitious step back before her brain scrambled completely, overcome by all that bronzed skin, sleeked by water and backed by muscles and hard male authority.
He laughed again, teeth very white in his tanned face. ‘Fine, I’ll accept that you can deal with cramp. Are you on shift work to be able to take the day off?’
The abrupt change of subject startled her. ‘I’m not working right now.’
His brows met over the distinguished blade of his nose. ‘Really?’
Was there a hint of disparagement in his tone? Taryn bristled. Parrying a keen, questioning look, she said with cool reserve, ‘I’ve been overseas, and when I came back I took a job selling souvenirs to tourists. It’s getting close to the end of summer and tourists are slackening off, so I’m no longer needed.’
‘Is there plenty of work around here?’ His voice was casual. ‘The village looked to be pretty small.’
Aramuhu was small, and there were very few jobs. But her future was none of his business. ‘I’m sure I’ll find something,’ she said dismissively.
He smiled. ‘I’m sure you will.’
Something in his tone caught her attention. Their gazes met, clashed, and the glint of awareness in his eyes summoned an intense, elemental response from her.
Taryn forced herself to ignore the shiver scudding down her spine, the tingle of anticipation.
Her breath stopped in her throat and she had to fight an odd belief that those few seconds of silent combat were altering the very fabric of her life, fundamentally changing her so that she’d never be the same again.
This unexpected attraction was mutual. Cade felt it too