Beaumont Brides Collection (107 page)

That was when a something gripped her ankle and pulled her under.

For a panicky, heart-stopping moment she struggled. Then she saw him, grinning at her, his hair standing on end as they floated down. For a moment relief was the overwhelming sensation; this was rapidly overtaken by fury at the fright he had given her. She kicked free and flew at him. The water slowed her and he caught her, his hands on her shoulders, holding her off without difficulty. She would have sworn it was impossible to laugh under water. Apparently not. And suddenly she wanted to laugh too.

They erupted breathless. At least she was breathless. He was still laughing. Mel gasped in some air and brushing aside his hands, she lunged at him, determined to give him the serious dunking he deserved. Jack made no effort to avoid her and this time he didn’t hold her at a distance but looped his arm about her waist and pulled her close, letting the water absorb the shock of their collision. And as they collided the sea wrapped itself around them, holding them close so that their legs tangled beneath the water, wet skin against wet skin and the dark hair across his chest grated against the swell of her breasts. She gasped again but not from lack of air.

Then, quite suddenly Jack stopped laughing, his eyes darkening as he looked down into her face and Mel watched, mesmerised, as his mouth descended with agonising slowness.

It was just a kiss, she told herself. Despite his unkind comments on her abilities as a kisser, Melanie had long ago lost count of the men she had kissed on stage and for the television cameras during her career, but that had just been acting. It hadn’t meant anything. This didn’t mean anything. It was simply another role.

She kept telling herself that as his sea washed mouth began to tease hers but the trouble was that none of her previous encounters had been with men as expert in the subject as Jack Wolfe. Or with men as eminently kissable. As her clumped wet lashes crashed down against her cheeks, she found herself wondering if his talent was simply happy chance, or the result of long and serious practice. And since it meant absolutely nothing, did it matter? Seriously?

Then, just exactly who she was trying to kid.

Without prompting, she opened her lips to his sweet invasion and wrapping her arms about Jack Wolfe’s neck, Melanie let the movement of the water wash her against him and began to kiss him back.

Seriously.

Drifting down beneath the surface of the water, her heart thundering in her ears, her blood singing, Melanie stopped reasoning and instead her entire being centred on Jack’s long fingers as they slipped through her hair to cradle her head, his hand at her waist turning her, so that she was below him, held there by the pressure of water forcing her upwards. And the pressure of his body holding her beneath him, moulding her against him.

The tender skin of her thighs grated against his hair-roughened legs, tangling with them in a kind of dance; her pelvis offered an eager frame for his hips; the softness of her breasts crushed against the unyielding barrier of his chest made her long to discard her costume, let him know how she tightened to his touch; and his hand behind her head, his mouth on hers was so sweetly seductive as they began to drift slowly to the surface that she wanted it to last forever.

Instead, seemingly endless minutes later, they erupted breathlessly from the water, his arm still holding her against him, his fingers still teasing the smooth skin at the nape of her neck while the water poured from her hair.

And for a moment Jack regarded her through steeply lidded eyes. ‘You look like a mermaid,’ he said, at last.

‘Do I?’ Her lids flickered up so that she was looking directly up into his eyes. ‘I’m a little overdressed to be a mermaid, surely?’ She was completely relaxed in his arms, boneless, and he suspected that if he peeled away her costume, he would meet no resistance. The thought aroused him, a fact she must be aware of, but mermaids were dangerous creatures, sirens luring unsuspecting sailors to their doom. And he wanted to be certain who was doing the luring.

He abruptly disengaged himself, putting a yard of distance between them. ‘I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mel, but it would be a pity to waste such a seductive performance when there isn’t an audience to appreciate it.’

For a moment Mel didn’t understand what had happened, she was floundering and out of her depth but it had nothing to do with the twenty feet of ocean beneath her.

‘Audience?’ The boys had finished sweeping the sand and the beach behind Jack was now totally deserted. Then the slightly acerbic tone he had used penetrated her addled wits. ‘Audience?’ she repeated, suddenly furious with him for reducing something beautiful to his own miserable standards. ‘For your information, Mr Jack Wolfe, seduction was the last thing on my mind,’ she added. ‘I was simply...’ She stopped as she realized that she was making a grade A fool of herself.

‘What?’

‘Practising,’ she said, crossly.

‘Oh, I see.’ Hands linked behind his head, he lay back in the water and began to float away from her. ‘Then I’m happy to confirm that you’re a very apt pupil. In fact I’d have to say you’re making excellent progress.’

She didn’t waste breath on a reply, instead she threw herself on him, swamping him, pushing him beneath the waves and when he was submerged to her utter and complete satisfaction, she turned and left him, swimming back to the beach faster than an extra from Jaws.

It was only minutes later, standing beneath the shower, bathroom door securely locked, that it even occurred to her to wonder why he hadn’t turned the tables on her. He could have done it quite easily. Dunked her, made her beg for mercy. She’d seen it a dozen times, a hundred times, as couples had fooled around in the water. Couples. She blushed at her own stupidity.

They weren’t a couple. For one crazy moment out there as they had ridden the emerald waves locked in each others arms, she had forgotten that. But he hadn’t.

Melanie wrapped herself in a towel, returned to the still empty bedroom and sank onto the stool in front of the dressing table. She picked up her comb, it snagged in a knot and she tugged it irritably, starting tears to her eyes.

‘Damn!’ she said, beneath her breath. Why on earth had she ever allowed things to get to this state of affairs. Why on earth had she ever thought...

She swivelled on the stool as the door began to open. ‘Would you please knock before you come in here,’ she snapped, blinking back the tears.

‘I did,’ he said, in an equally ill temper. Then he stopped as he saw the over brightness of her eyes. ‘I assumed you were still in the bathroom. Do you mind if I use it now?’ he continued, more gently.

‘Help yourself.’ Jack made no immediate move to avail himself of the invitation, but continued to look at her as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how she would respond. Unsettled, she finally broke the silence. ‘What are your plans for today?’

‘Nothing very strenuous. Recover from jetlag, sunbathe, explore a little perhaps.’

‘No clandestine meetings beneath the palm trees?’

‘Not today,’ he said, solemnly.

Was he laughing at her? ‘Just checking. I wouldn’t want to be in the way,’ she said, in a manner that let him know she didn’t think it was at all funny.

‘I’ll tell you when you’re in the way.’ He dragged his fingers through his wet hair. ‘There are a couple of bikes outside the cottage, we could ride down to the other beach if you like.’

‘We?’

‘You and me.’

She looked doubtful. She’d seen the bikes, but it hadn’t occurred to her that she would be expected to ride one of them. The last time she’d been confident on a bike, it had had training wheels.

‘I thought you’d be busy,’ she said, turning back to the mirror.

‘I’m sorry to disappointment you, but I’m afraid you can’t get rid of me that easily. But you can have another shot at drowning me tomorrow. I’ve chartered a boat for the day. You don’t suffer from sea-sickness I hope?’

‘Don’t wear anything you’re fond of,’ she warned him, still tugging the comb through her hair. Then realising she was being silly, she shook her head. ‘No, Jack, I don’t suffer from sea-sickness.’

‘I’m glad. There are some coves you can’t get to any other way. I’m reliably informed that they shouldn’t be missed.’

‘I’m sure it will be lovely,’ she said, unenthusiastically. ‘The whole island is lovely. Why else would you be interested?’

‘Why else.’ Then, ‘For heaven’s sake, Mel, you’re supposed to be an actress, can’t you at least pretend to be having a good time? Why are you making such a drama out of this?’

Her eyes flashed. ‘Drama is what I do for a living.’ Correction, wanted to do. What a pity her agent didn’t take the same attitude. ‘Of course this isn’t anything as grand as a drama. It’s more your below average sitcom.’ Well, there, maybe Trudy was right after all. Maybe she should have taken that sitcom. At least that part had a decent fee.

‘I’d have said the weather is rather better. And the scenery. And there’s no reason we shouldn’t have some fun.’

‘Fun? This is supposed to be fun?’

‘Of course. If I’m not having a good time, not one will believe that we’re-’

‘It’s all right, Jack,’ she interrupted, hurriedly. ‘I get the picture. You want fun. Fun you shall have.’

‘I can’t see why it should be so difficult to try and enjoy yourself.’

Oh, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t difficult at all. That was the trouble. She had been enjoying herself out there in the sea, enjoying herself rather too much but she wasn’t about to admit it.

‘Why? Because by rights I should be back in London cleaning someone’s greasy oven?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You didn’t have to.’

He folded up his long legs, balancing easily on his toes as he took her hand and looked her straight in the eyes. ‘Look, maybe I didn’t play quite fair with you-’

‘Maybe!’

‘But I really appreciate the way you’re helping me out. I know it can’t be easy, but you’re here now, Mel and I’d like to think you’ll have just a fraction more enjoyment here with me than might be extracted from a greasy oven.’

A fraction? She looked down at his hand on hers. His skin was darker, as if he spent a lot of time in the sun, the hairs on his wrist already turning gold. If it was just a fraction she would feel a lot happier about the situation.

‘I think I can say with perfect truth that this is a whole lot more fun than cleaning an oven,’ she conceded. But then you knew where you were with a greasy oven. ‘Jack?’

‘Yes?’ His voice was softer now. Dangerously lulling. She refused to be lulled.

‘It must be one hell of a deal you’re involved in if you’re willing to go to all this trouble.’ He didn’t deny it. ‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to have done what Caroline wanted than take a risk with me?’

‘Is it a risk, Mel?’ He regarded her steadily. ‘If there’s anything you think you should tell me, this would be as good a time as any.’

Mel had the disconcerting feeling that she was being invited to confess. But what to? He couldn’t possibly know... She frowned, then shook her head. She was just feeling tense. ‘I might make a mistake, mess up everything for you.’

‘You might,’ he agreed, regarding her with a certain edge to his expression. Then, when she said no more, he rose to his feet, his expression doing all the right things on the surface, but beneath the smile, she had the sense of shutters coming down. ‘But any girl who can think on her feet as quickly as you can, should be capable of handling almost any situation.’

‘When did I think quickly?’

‘When you rescued me from a fate worse than death with your fluffy yellow duster. No business deal is worth that kind of sacrifice.’

‘Would it have been such a sacrifice? Really? She’s very beautiful.’

‘Isn’t there an old saying? Beauty is as beauty does. It’s something we would all do well to remember.’ He nodded slightly before turning away to stride across the room. ‘I won’t be long, so if you want to get dressed without an audience I suggest you get a move on,’ he said, before closing the bathroom door behind him with a quiet, but decisive click.

Melanie didn’t need telling twice. She was into a pair of wide legged, sizzling pink cotton shorts and a matching vest top before he had reached for the soap. Then she pushed her feet into a pair of white espadrilles, tied her hair back with a scarf and was carefully applying another layer of sun cream to her nose when Jack reappeared a scant ten minutes later.

Their eyes met briefly through the mirror before she turned away, scooping up her sun cream to dump it into her soft leather shoulder bag.

‘It’s all yours,’ she said, shortly, heading for the door. ‘I’ll meet you - somewhere.’

He didn’t try to stop her. ‘By the pool,’ he said. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘Take all the time you need.’

Jack waited until she was gone and then called his office. ‘Mike?’ he said, after a few moments. ‘Have you managed to discover anything?’

*****

‘This is ridiculous,’ Melanie muttered, as she walked along the path to the main hotel building, blind to the sun and the sea and the brilliant flowers spilling from every bush and tree. ‘I could be lying on a beach anywhere in the entire world right now. Instead I’m...’