The Far Side of Paradise (10 page)

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Authors: Robyn Donald

BOOK: The Far Side of Paradise
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Except for that glittering gaze fixed on her lips.

As though the words were torn from him, Cade said roughly, ‘Damn. This is too soon.’

Taryn froze, every instinct shrieking that this was a bad, foolish, hair-raisingly terrifying statement.

Every instinct save one—the primal, irresistible conviction that if Cade didn’t kiss her she’d regret it for ever.

Her lips parted. ‘Yes,’ she said in a husky, faraway voice. ‘Too soon.’

‘And you’re afraid of me.’

She dragged in a deep breath. Oh, no, not afraid of Cade.

Afraid—
terrified
—of being shown once more that she was cold, too cold to satisfy a man.

But she didn’t feel cold. This had never happened before—this wild excitement that shimmered through her like a green flash at sunset, rare and exquisite, offering some hidden glory she might perhaps reach …

She stared up into narrowed eyes, saw the hard line of his mouth and knew he was going to step back, let her return to her chilly, isolated world. Somehow, without intending to, Cade had breached her defences, challenged that self-imposed loneliness, making her want—no,
long
—to rejoin the real world, where people touched and desired and kissed and made love without barriers.

‘No,’ she blurted, desperate to convince him. ‘Not of you—of myself.’

Frowning, Cade demanded, ‘Why?’

She had to tell him, but her voice was low and shamed and bitter when she admitted, ‘I’m frigid.’

His brows shot up in an astonishment that strangely warmed her. ‘Frigid? I don’t believe it. Tonight, I saw you literally stopped in your tracks by a sunset. No one who responds so ardently to sensory experiences could possibly be frigid.’

When he bent his head she stiffened, but he said in a quiet voice, ‘Relax. I would never hurt you, and I’m not going to leap on you and drag you into the bushes.’

The image of controlled, disciplined Cade losing his cool so completely summoned a spontaneous gurgle of laughter.

He smiled, and traced the outline of her lips with a hand that shook a little. The shame and fear holding her rigid dissipated a fraction, soothed by the sensuous shiver of delight that almost tentative touch aroused.

His voice deep and quiet, he said, ‘There are very few frigid women, didn’t you know? It’s usually a term imposed by clumsy, carelessly inconsiderate men. Who slapped you with that label?’

When she hesitated, he said swiftly, ‘If it’s too painful—’

‘No,’ she said wonderingly, because for the first time ever she thought she might be able to talk about it. In his arms, his heart beating solidly against her, she felt a strong sense of security, almost—incredible though that seemed to her bewildered mind—of peace.

Nevertheless, she had to swallow before she could go on. ‘It’s just that I was engaged but I wasn’t able to respond. It upset my fiancé and in the end it mattered too much.’

She stopped. She didn’t tell him—had never been
able to tell anyone—of the shattering scene that had ended the engagement.

‘So, if you truly are frigid, why are you snuggling against me so comfortably?’

Taryn said huskily, ‘I don’t know.’

‘Do you feel completely safe?’

‘Yes,’ she said instantly.

‘So if I kiss you, you’re not going to be scared, because it’s only going to be a kiss?’

Her whole body clenched as a wave of yearning swept through her—poignant, powerfully erotic and so intense she shivered with it. ‘I’m not afraid,’ she said, adding a little bitterly, ‘Well, I suppose I am, but it’s only of freezing you off.’

He lifted her chin. Eyes holding hers, he said above the wild fluttering of her heart, ‘Well, let’s see if that happens.’

And his mouth came down on hers.

Somehow, she had expected an unsubtle, dominant passion, so she was startled at first by his gentle exploration. Yet another part of her welcomed it and her mouth softened under his, her body responding with a languorous lack of resistance, a melting that was bone-deep, cell-deep—
heart-deep.

As if he’d been waiting for that, he lifted his head. ‘All right?’

The taut words told her he was holding himself under intense restraint, every powerful muscle in his big body controlled by a ruthless will.

Taryn could have been scared. Instead, a wave of relief and delight overwhelmed her and she turned her head and said against the hard line of his jaw, ‘It’s—saying that is getting to be a habit with you. I’m absolutely all right.’

He laughed, deep and quiet, and this time the kiss was everything she’d hoped, a carnal expression of hunger, dangerously stimulating, that sent unexpected shivers rocketing through her in a firestorm of reckless excitement.

He raised his head and slid his hands down to her hips, easing her closer. When he resumed the kiss, her breasts yielded to the solid wall of his chest. He was all muscle, all uncompromising strength, summoning from an unknown source in her an intense, aching anticipation that promised so much.

This time when he lifted his head Taryn’s knees buckled and she couldn’t hold back a low, sighing purr. Cade held her a little away and surveyed her with such a penetrating stare that she closed her eyes to shield herself.

Instantly, his arms loosened, leaving her chilled and bereft, her breasts aching with unfulfilled desire, her body throbbing with frustration.

He asked, ‘Did I hurt—?’

‘No,’ she broke in, and her tender lips sketched a weak smile. ‘Of course you didn’t—I’d have punched you in the solar plexus if you had.’

An odd half smile curled his mouth. ‘You could have tried,’ he said, dropping his arms. ‘But I suspect that’s enough experimentation for now.’

Disappointment clouded her thoughts. For a moment her mind flashed back to the fragile blonde in her clinging black sheath. ‘I’m not a frail little flower, easily bruised,’ she said tersely.

Why were they talking when they could be repeating those moments of shattering pleasure?

She parried his unreadable survey with a lift of her
brows, only to suffer an odd hitch to her heartbeat when his mouth curled into a smile.

‘Far from it,’ he said and stepped back, away from her. ‘And I think we’ve proved pretty conclusively that you’re not frigid, don’t you?’

Taryn banished a forlorn shiver. What had she expected? That he’d sweep her off her feet and prove in the best—the
only
way—that Antony had been completely wrong, and she was more than capable of feeling and responding to passion?

Seduce her, in other words. A hot wave of embarrassment made her turn away. There would have been precious little seduction to it—she’d gone up like a bushfire in his arms.

Cade was a sophisticated man. He’d been far more thoughtful than she’d guessed he could be, but a few
experimental
kisses from her weren’t going to mean anything to him. And he was making sure she understood it too.

So it was up to her to seem just as worldly, just as relaxed about her newly discovered sexuality as he clearly was with his. ‘I … yes,’ she muttered. ‘Thank you.’

He’d stayed totally in control, whereas the second he touched her she wouldn’t have cared if they’d been in the centre of some huge sports stadium as the sole show for tens of thousands of spectators.

With whole banks of spotlights and television cameras focused on them, she enlarged, hot with humiliation.

Kissing Cade had been mind-blowing—and stupid. Out of the frying pan into the fire.

Her grandmother’s domestic saying seemed the perfect way to describe her situation. Desperate to get away, she started to walk off.

Without moving, he asked, ‘Did you leave something behind?’

Taryn stopped, cheeks burning, when she realised she’d set off in the wrong direction. If he was smiling she’d …

Well, she didn’t know what she’d do, but it would be drastic. Pride stiffened her shoulders and straightened her spine as she turned to face him.

He wasn’t smiling.

No emotion showed on the arrogant face—no warmth, nothing but a mild curiosity that chilled her through to her bones.

Just keep it light, casual, everyday.
After all, she’d kissed quite a few men in her time.

It took most of her courage and all her will to set off in the right direction and say cheerfully, ‘No, and I’m blaming you entirely for scrambling my brains. If you want any respectable work from me, I don’t think we should allow that to happen again.’

His expression didn’t change as he fell into step with her, but his tone was cynical. ‘For some reason, I don’t think of respectability when I look at you.’

Taryn had to bite her lip to stop herself from asking what he did think of. He might be the sexiest man she’d ever met, and he certainly kissed like any woman’s erotic dream, but he was her employer, for heaven’s sake.

Worse than that, she admitted with stringent—and strangely reluctant—honesty, she was far too intrigued by him. Letting Cade’s addictive kisses get to her could only lead to heartbreak.

If his lovely blonde neighbour at dinner had shown her anything, it was that there would always be women around him, only too eager to fall into his arms and his bed.

‘Well, I am respectable. And we have a professional relationship,’ she said stiffly.

‘We did.’ He paused, and when she remained silent he added, ‘I suspect it might just have been converted into something entirely different.’

His cool amusement grated. ‘No,’ she said firmly.

She’d had little experience when it came to emotional adventures, and she’d never known anything like the response that still seethed through her like the effect of some erotic spell.

Well, she’d just shown she could be as foolish as any eighteen-year-old, but she didn’t do sensual escapades.

So, if he still wanted to play games, she’d—what?

The sensible reaction would be to run as if hellhounds were after her.

‘No?’ he asked almost negligently.

‘You’ve been very kind and understanding, and I am grateful.’ She paused, unable to summon any sensible, calm, sophisticated words. In the end, she decided on a partial truth. ‘But, although you helped me discover something about myself I didn’t know, I don’t expect anything more from you than a resumption of our working relationship.’

Cade glanced down. She wasn’t looking at him; against the silver shimmer of the lagoon through the palm trunks her profile was elegant, sensuous—and as determined as the chin that supported it.

Oddly enough, he believed she’d been convinced she was frigid. He’d deduced something of it even before she’d told him; her reactions to his touch had warned him of some emotional trauma. Suppressing an uncivilised desire to track down and punish the man who’d done such a number on her, he wondered if this was why she’d refused Peter.

No, she’d
laughed …
That implied a certain crudity—or cruelty.

She’d rejected Peter in a manner that had left him so completely disillusioned he’d been unable to live with the humiliation.

So was now the time to tell her who he was?

Not yet, Cade decided. There was more to Taryn than he’d thought, and he’d only got just below the surface.

Why was she back-pedalling? She must realise she had no need to whet his appetite; he was still fighting to control a ferocious surge of hunger. In his arms she’d been eager and passionate, her willingness summoning sensations more extreme than anything he’d felt since his untamed adolescence.

But she had every right to remind him of their professional relationship. And he had every right to tempt her into revealing herself more. He stamped down on the stray thought that his desire might be gaining the upper hand.

‘Fair enough,’ he said, finishing, ‘Although I should warn you that I’m particularly fond of exceeding expectations.’

And waited for her reaction.

CHAPTER SEVEN

T
ARYN
gave him a swift, startled glance, faltered on a half step, recovered lithely and looked away but, beneath the shimmering gold
pareu,
her breasts lifted as though she’d taken a deep breath. The languorous perfume of some tropical flower floated with voluptuous impact through the warm air as they turned off the main path towards their accommodation.

Was she resisting an impulse to take the bait? Cade waited, but when she stayed silent continued with a touch of humour, ‘However, as we’re back to being professional, here’s what’s happening tomorrow.’

He gave her the programme, finishing with, ‘And the day ends with a dinner cruise on the harbour.’

At her nod, he said blandly, ‘To which you are, of course, invited.’

‘I’ve given up protesting,’ she said, irony colouring the words.

Cade permitted himself a narrow smile as he opened the door. ‘And of course you’ll be perfectly safe with all those people around.’

‘I’m perfectly safe anyway,’ she returned a little sharply, and said a rapid, ‘Goodnight,’ before striding gracefully towards the door of her room.

The fine material of her
pareu
stroked sinuously
across the elegant contours of the body beneath it, and he found himself wondering how she would look when it came off …

He waited until she reached for the handle before saying, ‘I’ve always believed that the best strategy was standing and fighting, but retreat is probably the right tactic for you now. Sleep well.’

She turned her head and sent him a long, unwavering look before saying, ‘I shall,’ and walking through the door, closing it quietly but with a definite click behind her.

Safe behind it, Taryn dragged air into famished lungs and headed for the bathroom, churning with such a complex mixture of emotions she felt as though someone had pushed her head first into a washing machine.

A shower refreshed her marginally, but sleep proved elusive.

Every time she closed her eyes she relived those searing kisses, so midnight found her wide awake, staring at the drifts of netting that festooned the bed.

Was Cade looking for an affair? Just thinking about that made her heart jump nervously and stirred her senses into humming awareness.

If so, she’d refuse him. He’d accept that—and, even if he didn’t, she didn’t need to worry about her safety, because he wasn’t the sort of man to force her.

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