CHAPTER SIX
"You stay out much longer, I be servin' you for dinner 'stead of the lobster." The words startled Kate out of a sound sleep and she jerked up to see Teresa standing beside her on the beach, shaking her head and smiling down at her. "You be cooked, Mrs Kate," she said, her tone a mixture of disapproval and dismay. Wincing as she touched her now rosy forearm, Kate nodded. "I fell asleep. What time is it?" "Dinnertime. Mr Damon didn't know where you were. Them sisters of his." She shook her head, irritated. "I thought maybe I take a look." "What about Damon's sisters?" "They been callin' all day. One problem an' another. Can't leave the poor man alone even on his honeymoon. I don' blame you for going' for a walk, listenin' to all that." "Er--yes. I didn't realise it was so late. I only meant to close my eyes." But it had been two hours at least. And she hadn't stirred. She had dreamed, though, she remembered that much. They had been incredible dreams. Sexy dreams. About Damon. If it were possible to turn a deeper shade of red she would have done so. She shoved a hand through dishevelled hair and scrambled to her feet. "Thanks for waking me, Teresa. Do I have time for a shower?" "Depends," Teresa said darkly, 'if that Electra ever get off the phone. You don't got to let him spend all his time with them, you know. " "I know," Kate said. "Ah. good. He finished." Teresa grinned. "I serve dinner now. You can shower later. Mr Damon be happy to help you clean up later, I bet." Kate didn't want to think about that. If Bryce had found her wanting, Damon definitely would, all dreams to the contrary. There was no point in complicating matters further over a few hormonal urges. Damon wanted it to be business. So did she. She hurried up the beach following Teresa's broad back, trying to put her hair into some semblance of order as she went. Damon was standing on the veranda. He looked hassled and harried and no more rested than when Kate had left. She felt an unreasoned burst of sympathy for him. Damon looked her up and down, taking in her rumpled, sweaty clothes, sunburnt face and tousled hair. "What happened to you?" All sympathy fled. "I fell asleep on the beach." "Stupid thing to do." "I didn't do it intentionally." She waited until Teresa had disappeared into the kitchen and added, "I got tired of playing the devoted newlywed in town. I was trying to give us some space. And you some sleep, if you'll recall." "Sleep? There's a laugh. I didn't even get my head near a pillow. I didn't bloody get a chance!" Teresa reappeared carrying a bowl of succulent lobster stew and with obvious effort Damon modulated his tone as she dished it out. "My sisters called," he grumbled. "They miss you that much?" "They miss coming to me for help at every turn." He shoved a hand through already tousled hair. "Pandora is stuck in Vegas without a dime. Electra's show closed. Chloe is in Dares Salaam and needs me to wire her some money to get home. Arete quit at Strahans', came back to our place and promptly got into a fight with Stephanos about who was running things. They both called me. Twice." He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his head in them, then lifted his bloodshot gaze to meet hers. "I ought to fire both of them." So, why don't you? " He looked momentarily startled, then ignoring her, went on. The last one was Daphne trying to unload a truckload of chinchillas on me. And you. " "WW?" Damon rubbed a hand across his face. "Don't ask." He slid back in his chair and closed his eyes as Teresa left again. "God, I'm tired." "You look like hell." "Thank you very much." "Always glad to be of help." If she'd really been his wife in more than name, she'd have been far more sympathetic. She'd have told him he worked far too hard and let his family take far too much advantage of him. But in the circumstances, she had no right to. In the circumstances, it was easier to be flippant, and safer, too. Fixing her eyes firmly on her plate, she dug in. It was a savoury, succulent blend of lobster, potatoes and vegetables, and it went a long way towards making things right with the world as far as Kate was concerned. "It's very good," she said. But a minute or more passed before Damon hauled himself upright and, muttering under his breath, began to eat as well. They didn't speak again until their plates were clean and Teresa came to clear the table. "Not much of a honeymoon," she commented sadly. Damon's head jerked up at that. He glowered at; her. "What's that supposed to mean?" "You all day talkin' on the phone, Mrs Damon going' to town by herself." "We don't have to live in each other's pockets, Teresa," Damon said shortly. But Teresa just clucked her tongue. "What'm I gonna tell your mother?" "My mother?" Damon looked so horrified that Kate almost laughed. "You don't have to tell my mother anything!" Teresa stepped back. "You don't got to yell, Mr Damon. I hear you. I be right here. Course I got to tell her. She asking'." Kate saw Damon visibly try to control himself. With considerable effort he softened his tone. "Our honeymoon and our marriage are our business, Teresa. Not my mother's. I will thank you not to say a word." Kate watched with interest as the two stares met, Damon's hard and fierce, Teresa's mild and curious. Finally the older woman shrugged. "Not one word, Mr Damon?" "Not one word." "f that's what you want." Teresa turned almost sadly and started towards the kitchen. Damon grunted his satisfaction. As much as in this instance Kate agreed with him, she did wish he'd be a little less high-handed with Teresa. "It was a lovely meal, Teresa. Thank you," Kate called after her, determined to be polite even if her husband wasn't. Teresa turned and beamed. "My pleasure. You have a good night, now. I be seem' you at breakfast. You take extra good care of Mr Grouchy here." She shot a quick look at Damon, noted his fierce expression, giggled and vanished into the kitchen. "God, I don't know what's got into that woman," he complained, shoving his chair back and heading for the door. "She never used to be so cheeky." "She's pleased for us." Damon snorted. "She has a damned funny way of showing it." "She thinks we're madly in love and she's enchanted." "The more fool she," Damon muttered and strode towards the cottage without looking back. Kate hurried to catch up. "Dibs on the shower." He glanced back briefly, his expression distasteful. "You could use one." "How gallant of you to say so." He gave her a twisted smile. "Always glad to be of help." His echo of her earlier words mocked her as she hurried past. Damn it, she groused as she undressed, why did it have to be like this? Why did they have to continually snipe at each other? Why couldn't they get along? Kate couldn't ever remember a man who could provoke her the way Damon could. Nor a man who attracted her quite so much either. She didn't want to think about that. Deliberately she turned on the water as hard as it would go, stepped under the shower and welcomed a cleansing rush of water beating down on her naked body. She didn't know how long she stayed there. Long enough, she hoped, to get herself firmly under control, long enough to tamp down all interest in Damon Alexakis, long enough to recite the list of every nanny she had ever placed, every family she had ever served, every goal she had set for herself. She hoped, too, as she finished drying off and slipping into her nightgown, that it was long enough for Damon to have settled down in the living-room and fallen asleep. She didn't want to have to face him again tonight. He was asleep all right. On her bed. Scowling, Kate crept towards the bed and peered down at him. Damon was sprawled across it, face down, one arm out flung the other tucked under his head. The khaki shorts and T-shirt he had been wearing lay in a heap on the floor. He was clad now in only a pair of light blue boxer shorts. Kate stood quite still taking in the prospect of his smooth tanned back, the curve of his firmly muscled buttocks, the length of his hair-roughened legs. She'd always thought the Greek god business so much hot air. Now she wasn't so sure. She closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath, then licked parched lips. "Damon," she said firmly. "Get up." He didn't stir. "Damon!" Her tone was louder and more irritable this time. She opened her eyes as she did so. Still he didn't move. Kate reached down and tugged on one of his feet. He groaned and pulled up his knee. "Damon! Get up. It's time to go to bed." He made a muffled sound, "m in bed." "It's my bed. My turn." "Share," he mumbled into the sheet. "No, I'm not going to share." That way lay disaster. "You're going to leave. Now." Once more she reached for his foot and gave it a jerk. A hand reached out and grasped hers, yanking her down on to the bed beside him. Oooff! Damon! Damn you! " She struggled against a surprisingly strong grip. "Let go! Get up and get
out of here. Now!" "No. Too damn tired. Here--' he shoved over slightly '--your space." His eyes fluttered shut again; his breathing deepened. Kate wrenched her wrist out of his grasp and scrambled off the bed. She felt like punching him, like kicking him. Hard. She contented herself with smacking him once on the rear end. He rolled on to his back and regarded her scowlingly from beneath hooded lids. Kate stepped back hastily. "You agreed. I took your word as a gentleman." "Your mistake." A slight smile flickered across his mouth. "You don't need to stand there with that look of outraged virtue on your face. I'm hardly any threat to you tonight. I can't keep my eyelids up, much less anything else. " "Don't be crude." "I'm not being crude. I'm being accurate." And he rolled over once more and started to snore. Kate, hands on hips, glowered at him. So, fine, he wasn't a gentleman. He was right about that. She should have known that from the first. A gentleman would never have proposed such a marriage! Well, she certainly wasn't going to sleep in the same bed with him, then. How did she know he wasn't lying this time, too? She should go straight up to the main house and sleep there. That would teach him. And it would certainly give Teresa something to call home about! But even as she thought it, she knew she wouldn't. And not only for Damon's sake either. On her own behalf, she didn't want to disillusion Helena. She liked her new mother-in-law. She regretted that she was only going to have her a year. But as long as she did have her, Kate didn't want to see the worry and sadness she knew would appear on Damon's mother's face. The more fool she, she thought grimly, echoing Damon's words. Cursing both him and herself, she yanked the afghan off the back of the wicker chair and stalked into the living-room, shut out the lights and curled on the set tee Half an hour of twisting this way and that convinced her she'd never get a moment's sleep if she stayed there. Grumbling, she placed the cushions on the wood floor and stretched out on them. There, she thought, lying down, that was better. Outside she could hear frogs croaking and insects chirping above the soft sound of the surf. Inside she could hear the bed creak as Damon rolled over. Her jaw tightened. She turned on to her side, tucked the afghan around her, and willed herself to sleep. The moonlight bathed the room in a soft silvery glow. It was peaceful, she told herself. Soothing. She could sleep here. She knew she could. There was nothing to fear with Damon in the other room Except that dark shape scuttling across the floor towards her. "Aargh!" Kate leapt to her feet and scrambled to the chair, standing on it, her knees shaking, teeth chattering. "God!" It was pure prayer, a desperate pleading for salvation. "What the She unscrewed her tightly shut eyes and ventured a peek. It looked like the cockroach from hell. Used to the rather small, mundane New York City variety and hating them, she didn't even want to think about one the size of her fist. Still trembling, Kate licked her lips. Another one appeared from beneath the cupboard. She suppressed a squeak of horror, sinking on to the chair and wrapping her arms around her knees, clenching her teeth together to stop them from making noise. Her heart felt as if it were doing a fast-stepping dance in her chest. She took deep, even breaths, hoping it would slow down. And all the while she gazed with morbid fascination as the two bugs trundled about the room, one of them moving towards the cushion she had just abandoned. She shuddered. There was no way, no way, she was sleeping down there again tonight. Or ever. Slowly, carefully, she relaxed her grip on her calves and stood up, still in the chair, still watching them unblinkingly as if one might suddenly decide to fly right at her. Could they fly? It didn't bear thinking about. She took a mighty leap and almost flew herself into the bedroom where she bounded into the bed next to Damon. He grunted as the bed jostled. "I'm not sleeping out there! There are bugs out there!" "Mmm." "You sleep out there!" "No." One arm reached out and slid around her shoulders, pulling her down firmly next to him. "But--' " Be quiet, Kate. Just be quiet and go to sleep. " She tried wriggling out of his grasp, but he had her pinned beneath one strong arm and one hair- roughened leg. "s me or the bugs, Kate," he said sleepily. "Take your pick." Some choice. For what seemed like hours Kate lay, stiff as a board, as far towards her edge of the bed as possible while Damon made a soft whuffling sound, curled on his side and breathed more deeply. At first she watched him expectantly, with as much trepidation as if he'd been one of those monster black bugs about to attack her. But time wore on and Damon didn't move. Gradually she relaxed, felt the tension slip from her shoulders and her spine, felt her legs slacken and her fists unclench. But she didn't sleep. Couldn't. She was too wide awake. Too aware. Slowly, carefully, she turned on to her side so she could watch this man to whom she was married. She remembered studying Damon briefly as he'd slept on the aeroplane, but that hadn't seemed nearly as intimate as this did. Then his features had softened slightly, his eyes had been closed, his collar button opened and his tie askew, but he'd still seemed remote and formidable in his starched white shirt and navy wool suit. But as she lay beside him in bed, she found that he was formidable in an entirely different way now. It wasn't the hard-edged, decisive businessman that she felt in awe of this time, it was the supremely fit, well- muscled male. And yet for all his masculine potential, she found herself feeling oddly protective of him. Damon looked even more exhausted now than he had on the night flight back from Vegas. The lines of fatigue on his face seemed more pronounced, the hollows of his eyes more deeply shadowed. And Kate found herself wanting to edge closer to him and put her arms around him, letting him rest his head against the softness of her breasts. Oh, yes, right, and then what? she asked herself, irritated at her own foolishness. Would you really want what would happen next? For there was no doubt in her mind that comforting would not be what would take place. He would want to make love. Kate remembered the last time she had been in bed with a man, remembered the fiasco that had been her marriage her first marriage, she corrected herself. She had been eager and willing to make love with Bryce. At least, at first she had. Of course she knew she was inexperienced; she hadn't thought it would matter. They loved each other, didn't they? So if things were awkward at first, it wouldn't matter. The expertise would come. But Bryce didn't have the time or the patience for that. He wanted his satisfaction and he wanted it now. Even that very first night he had reached for her rather impatiently and had taken as much satisfaction as he could get with her 'not a lot," he'd told her scornfully the day he'd left then rolled away and fallen into a heavy slumber. And Kate had lain awake at his side on their wedding-night feeling lonelier and less fulfilled than ever. It hadn't got any better. She cringed now at the memory of it. Worse, she recalled, she seemed to have been powerless to change it. With Bryce the closeness she'd craved had always eluded her. They'd had sex, but they'd never had true intimacy, nothing like the soft words, gentle touches and implicit understanding that went beyond the body to touch the heart. They hadn't had love. Not really. And in this marriage there was no love either. For all that she was attracted to Damon, for all that she wanted to reach out to him^ there was no use. No use pretending. Damon might awaken, he might reach for her, he might even consummate their marriage. But he, too, would be simply assuaging a physical need. And he would doubtless find her as lacking as Bryce apparently had. He would slake his need, use her the same way Bryce had, and he, too, would see the lack in her. Kate couldn't even bear to think about it. She'd loved once. She'd tried. She'd failed. She didn't want--couldn't take--more of the same with Daroon. He awoke late. Restless and rested at the same time. The sun streamed in the window halfway up in the sky. Damon groaned. He could imagine what Teresa would say about that. He could imagine what Kate would say too, for he realised that he was still lying in the bed. Her bed. He remembered toppling on it last night, remembered listening to her turn on the shower, remembered telling himself that he'd move in a minute. And then he remembered. . . What? What did he remember? Some vague discussion with Kate. . something about its being her bed, something about his being a gentleman. . or not. He groaned again. Obviously he hadn't been. And then? And then. . . She'd left. And come back. He rolled on to his back and rubbed his fists into his eyes, then p
ressed on them, trying to recapture the memory. Or had it been a dream? He supposed it could have been a dream. He'd had enough of them lately. Lurid, erotic fantasies in which he and Kate had made slow, tantalising love. This time he remembered--dreamed about? -- reaching out in the night and finding her there. He'd been too tired to do more than draw her close and wrap his arms around her, then settle his chin in the curve of her shoulder and breathe in the sweetness of her hair. He pulled the pillow over his face and folded his arms across it. He ached just thinking about it. "Is this a new form of meditating or are you suffocating yourself?" Damon jerked the pillow away from his face to see Kate at the foot of the bed looking down at him. He groped wildly for the sheet and was relieved to find that it covered him. Of course he was clothed-barely--but that didn't mean she wouldn't be able to notice his obvious arousal. Hastily, still keeping the sheet over him, he sat up. "How about trying to compose an apology?" Kate cocked her head. "I stole your bed." Was it his imagination or was she blushing? She took a quick step backwards. "Yes, you did." She avoided his gaze, going to open the blinds, then straightening the cloth on the small round table in front of the window. He watched her, curious now, memories flitting in and out of his mind, teasing him. making him wonder. He traced a pattern in the sheet but his eyes never left her. "So you slept on the floor?" "Of course! You don't think I slept with you, do you?" Bright spots of colour stained her normally ivory cheeks. "A man can hope." "Don't be ridiculous." "I have these memories, you see." And he did even as he spoke. It was coming back to him now. "Something about a bug. . .?" Kate glared. "Well, what did you expect me to do? Stay on the floor when there were insects the size of dinner plates waltzing around?" "Ah." He leaned back against the headboard and grinned up at her. "So it wasn't a dream." "Some of it was! You were. . you were. . snuggling. . up to me! Making noises! " "Noises?" That wasn't the way he remembered it. "Maybe I was kissing you." Her teeth came together. She lifted her chin and stared at the far corner of the ceiling and didn't reply. "Was I?" She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her shorts "Maybe you were." A corner of his mouth lifted wickedly. "Couldn't you tell?" Kate stamped her foot. "All right, you were." "And obviously with great success. Did anyone ever tell you that you're terrific for a man's ego." "No one asked you to kiss me." "Was it disgusting?" He tried to sound as if it were purely a matter of idle curiosity. It wasn't. He wanted to kiss her again now that they were both awake. He wanted to grab her hand and pull her down On the bed beside him, strip off her shirt and smooth the shorts from her hips. He wanted. . . Damn it! This was not the way to gain self-control and composure. "I didn't come to talk about your kissing me," Kate said Stiffly. "I came to tell you that Silas is up at the house. He wants to know if we want to go fishing. " "Do we?" Kate blinked. "He said to ask you." "And I'm asking you. We are husband and wife on our honeymoon. We are spending the day together. Would you like to go fishing?" She hesitated. "What's the matter?" he asked. "No one's ever asked me before." "To go fishing?" "No. Well, that too, I guess. But what I meant was, no one's ever asked me whether I wanted to do something. My father, I mean. Or. . or Bryce. They always just. . assumed. " He stared at her, amazed, and she shrugged helplessly, then ducked her head, the colour blooming in her cheeks again. "It's not a big deal," she said gruffly. But Damon thought it was. He felt an unaccountable anger towards her father and her husband. What kind of men were they, not to take her wishes into consideration? "Would you like to go fishing, Kate?" She shot him an oblique glance, as if to see if he meant it, and then gave a jerky nod. "That would be nice." "And safer than kissing," he said, needing to make her smile. She looked startled, her eyes widening, her mouth making a silent 0. Then she smiled, only a little at first, then more broadly as if they were co conspirators again and not adversaries. "Much safer," she said and danced off towards the door. "I'll tell Silas." Fishing. Yes, fishing was safe. Nothing could happen in a boat the size of Silas's. Especially with Silas in it, too, Kate told herself. They moved from one fishing spot to another while Silas studied the reefs and the weather, which promised late day storms, muttered an occasional monosyllable and then nodded his head when he thought the fishing would be good. Damon didn't dispute it. At first Kate found that surprising, expecting that as he was an expert in so many areas he would naturally assume he was an expert in this one. Heaven knew her father would have. But Damon seemed content to let Silas do the leading today, only offering his expertise when it came to teaching her how to bait her hook. She felt all thumbs and more than a little foolish when she tried. "I can't," she said at first, pushing it away after she'd fumbled and dropped the piece of langousta Silas had offered her for bait. "Here. Like this," Damon said, and he was surprisingly patient as he showed her once more how to slip it on to the hook. "Don't get so frantic. No one's grading you." Kate shot him a sceptical look, expecting sarcasm in his words, but he looked quite sincere and when he offered to demonstrate one more time, she nodded her head. This time she got it, then cast the line overboard as Damon instructed her to. "Now what?" "Now we wait." If Kate had ever given much thought to fishing before, and she didn't remember having done so, she was fairly sure she would have thought it boring. It wasn't. It was soothing, cent ring It gave a person time time to relax, to muse, to bask. All those things that fast-lane, big-city people like herself and Damon rarely had time for. And the miracle was, it could all be accomplished under the guise of actually doing something! What a racket, she thought, smiling. There was a sudden tug on her line and the reel began to spin. "Oh!" Damon grinned. "Looks as if you've got a live one." The reel spun madly as she tried desperately to catch the whirling knob. At last she clamped down on it and stopped it. Then she thrust it towards Damon. He shook his head. "It's your fish. Reel it in." It was harder than she'd imagined. This was no guppy on the end of her line, or if it was, they would be writing about it in Guinness. Her arms trembled from the exertion. "You doin' good. Hang in there," Silas encouraged her. "Look there, he be comin'." Kate looked where he pointed and saw a silvery flash against the surface of the water, then felt the line jerk and she almost lost all the ground she'd gained. She bit down on her lip and tensed her fingers. By the time she finally hauled him in, her arms were shaking, and she expected a fifty-pound barracuda to appear on the end of her line. "A grouper," Silas said as he netted the huge ugly yellowish fish. "A baby. " "A baby?" Kate croaked. "Baby whale." Silas laughed, unhooking it and dropping it into the well. "Naw. He be four, five pounds maybe at most." Kate stared. "Bigger than mine," Damon said, and Kate turned to note that while she'd been duelling with her grouper, Damon had landed a fish of his own. "Yours is prettier," she told him. It was a slim, shiny fish, much handsomer than hers. Thank you very much," he replied, amusement in his tone. He grinned at her and Kate couldn't help responding in kind. "Need some help baiting your hook this time?" She shook her head. "I'll try it on my own." It occurred to Kate then that Damon Alexakis wasn't very much like her father after all. Her father never would have bothered teaching her to bait the hook, nor would he have sat by and tolerated her clumsy attempts to follow his instructions. Neither would he have let her land it herself. He would have taken the whole project out of her hands and done it better. He always did everything better. Including live other people's lives. As she baited the hook, with less trouble this time, and cast, she thought about how, according to Teresa, Damon had spent the better part of yesterday dealing with his sisters' various complaints. Eugene wouldn't have dealt with them. "You made your bed, lie in it," he would have told them, just as he'd told Kate when she married Bryce. And as long as she was married to Bryce, he'd never spoken to her. No matter how awful his sisters were, she couldn't imagine Damon turning his back on his family that way. And that made her like him even more. She didn't want to like Damon Alexakis. Being attracted to him was difficult enough. If she liked him as well. . . Kate turned away from him' deliberately concentrating on Silas's strong calloused hands hauling in a hand line. But then Damon said, "I've got another one,"
and moments later he pulled in a shiny iridescent fish with frantic eyes and a gaping mouth. Kate watched as it wriggled and twitched in the last throes of battle-weary panic fighting the man who'd caught it. It reminded her of herself. "I got to pick up some divers been to Doctor's Cay 'bout two o'clock," Silas said after they'd fished for another couple of hours. "You want to go home or here his grin widened you want to go to Rainbow Cove, do a little swimming, an' I pick you up later?" "I don't have my suit," Kate said doubtfully. Silas grinned. "Don't matter." Kate supposed it wouldn't. She could paddle around in her shorts and shirt perfectly well, and since the breeze had dropped she was feeling very hot and sticky. "Let's go swimming," Kate said impulsively. "It would be so refreshing." Besides, they'd be gone from the house that much longer, away from the bedroom, out in the open where. it was, as Damon had pointed out earlier, 'safer'. "You tol' her 'bout Rainbow already, huh?" Silas nudged Damon. "No, I didn't," he said shortly. "What about your sunburn, Kate?" Kate shrugged. "It's not bad. Please?" "Such a willing woman." Silas chuckled. Damon looked decidedly uncomfortable. "What's it got, sharks?" Kate asked. "No," Damon said, and Silas laughed more heartily than ever. He opened the throttle and they surged away, heading north around the top of the mainland. Rainbow was a secluded horseshoe-shaped cove entered by a narrow inlet. With a pristine pink sand beach tucked into a mangrove jungle, it looked like paradise. Kate was enchanted. "It's beautiful, like a Garden of Eden." "You got that right." Silas cut the engine and the boat slipped smoothly through the wave-less water towards the shore. "You enjoy it, now," he said as he helped her out in the shallow water. He winked at Damon and handed him some towels. "I reckon I don't have to tell you that. Keep those clothes dry now." Then he opened the throttle and churned away. "What'd he mean, keep our clothes dry?" Kate asked. "How can you swim and keep your clothes. . .?" Her voice trailed off. Her eyes narrowed. She looked at Damon accusingly. He scowled at her. "Don't blame me. I wasn't the one who said, " let's", when he mentioned Rainbow Cove." . "You didn't say it was the. . the. . ." "Skinny-dipping beach? It always has been." "How was I supposed to know that? You should have said no." "I'm supposed to say we can't go because it's a nude beach?" "You didn't have to say because it's a nude beach. You could have. . I don't know. . you could have thought of something. " "I did. Your sunburn." "Well, we don't have to," she said after a moment. "It's custom." "We'll break it." "Silas is a bigger gossip than any woman on this island. You think he won't tell? We're supposed to be newlyweds, damn it. I'd want to come here if this was a normal marriage!" "Well, it's not, is it?" Kate said scathingly. "No, it sure as hell isn't," Damon said through gritted teeth. "So swim if you want," Kate said. "I'll sit here until he comes back. Nice and dry, how's that? " She plopped herself down on the towel, brushed away a mosquito, and glared at him. "I'll pretend I swam." "Maybe you can pretend your hair's wet, too." Kate picked up a handful of sand and threw it at him. "Just shut up and swim. I'll close my eyes." "Don't do it on my account," he said as his fingers went to the snap of his shorts. She should have. For a moment she did, shutting her eyes against the sight of his hands lowering the zip. But the temptation was too great, and her eyes flicked open again to watch as Damon slid the shorts down his hips and stepped out of them. He was only the second male she'd seen totally nude. The first, of course, had been Bryce. But it took scant seconds for Kate to realise that Bryce naked was as different from Damon as it was possible for a man to be. Blond and slim, Bryce had always looked suave and sophisticated in the three-piece suits he favoured. But whenever Kate had seen him undressed he had always seemed diminished somehow, lanky and hesitant, as if the clothes had indeed made the man. The opposite was true of Damon. If Damon Alexakis in a suit and tie had seemed to Kate the embodiment of masculine power, he was no less so stark naked. In fact, he was more. Damon was lean without being lanky, firmly muscled without the least hint of fat. His chest was broad, his hips narrow, and his. . well, his. . Kate blushed and looked away, but not without having assertained that it was everything she might have expected. "Little late to be checking out the merchandise, isn't it?" "You said you didn't mind!" Kate muttered, her cheeks burning. He grinned. "I don't. Want to return the favour?" He stood right in front of her, looking down at her, still smiling and making no move to cover himself. "No, I do not." "Spoilsport." "Just go swim." Kate said to the sand. "Sure you don't want to come along?" "I'm fine." "Suit yourself, but you'll get awfully hot." He failed to mention that she would also get bitten by a million mosquitoes. She slapped one and then another, and another, and another. She jumped up and wrapped the towel around herself, swatting at (he dive-bombing insects even as she did so. Damon, swimming away from her out in the middle of the cove, didn't notice. "Drat!" She smacked her arm, getting two with one blow. But she couldn't even feel much satisfaction; three more took their places. She scowled fiercely, walked towards the trees in hope of some respite. But the insects were, if anything, worse there than they had been on the sand. She walked back towards the water. Damon was perhaps forty yards out now, not really moving any longer, just floating, looking back at her. She slapped a mosquito on her leg, then another on her arm, then glared at him. He smiled. There was no breeze to speak of in the cove, either. Heavy dark clouds hung on the horizon, but they moved so slowly that Kate felt as if everything had stopped. She felt clammy, sticky, sweaty. Rivulets of perspiration ran down her neck, sliding along her spine, sticking between her breasts. She glanced at her watch. Silas wouldn't be back for at least another two hours. "Damn it," she muttered under her breath, then out loud she called, "Shut your eyes!" What? " "You heard me, Alexakis. Damn it, shut them!" He grinned. She couldn't tell if he shut them or not, he was too far away. She wrapped a towel loosely around herself, then fumbled beneath it, unbuttoning her shirt. Then, holding the towel close, she slipped the shirt off. Her bra was sticking to her and she held the towel with her teeth while she wrestled it off. Then she wriggled out of her brief white shorts. She considered leaving her panties on. Silas would never know. But the shorts she wore turned almost transparent when wet. A pair of wet panties under them would guarantee that the secret would be out. Fuming, Kate peeled the panties off as well. She lay her clothes in a neat pile. Then with the towel still wrapped around her, she headed for the water. "I think Silas is going to notice if the towels are wet, too," Damon said from only twenty feet away. Kate spun around. "You're supposed to have your eyes closed." "It isn't as if I haven't seen a naked female before. I did grow up with six sisters." "And I suppose your sisters were the only ones you ever saw." "Well, there were maybe a few others." He was smiling as he moved towards her. "I'll bet. Stay where you are." Obediently Damon halted. "I'm not the philanderer you seem to think I am." Kate wasn't going to argue with him. But she couldn't imagine Damon had spent much of his adult life as a practising celibate. She was out past her knees when she knew she would have to get rid of the towel because she couldn't throw it any further. She cursed the gradual drop-off, but she had no choice. Whipping the towel towards the shore, she dived beneath the water in one fluid motion. She banged her nose on the shallow bottom and came up spluttering. Damon stood a few feet away now, laughing. "Wretch!" she cried, and flung herself at him, intending to drown him. It was a major mistake.
THE ALEXAKIS BRIDE by Anne McAllister Page 7