by Liz Fielding
He pulled his fingers from her hair, leaving a soft ringlet where they had been. But the moment of danger was over. ‘I told you, everyone calls me Griff.’
Maddy, almost herself again, arched one darkly winged brow. ‘Of course. ‘Griff will do,’ she said, not bothering to hide the edge of sarcasm. Then she gave a little shrug. ‘Nothing wrong with it as far as it goes. Such a pity the same can’t be said of the manners.’
Griff’s mouth straightened in a mirthless smile. ‘Let’s be honest... Miss Osborne... you have a few failings in that direction yourself.’ Before she could respond he handed her the bucket. ‘Now, do you think we could resume this conversation some other time? It isn’t going to stay light for much longer.’ For a while Maddy took considerable satisfaction in imagining that each branch, each overhanging leathery leaf that she slashed in two with the machete bore the arrogant, overbearing, infuriating features of Griff-will-do.
The nerve of the man, to suggest that she was bad-mannered when he... But then she burst upon a scene so enchanting, so magical that it would have warmed the most cynical tour operator’s heart and she instantly forgot her anger.
A shimmering cascade of water dominated the clearing, falling dizzyingly from some unseen source, tumbling and spilling out in tiny diversions to spray a lacy mist over moss-laden rocks and tropical ferns before plunging into a dark pool.
Delicately patterned wild orchids trailed carelessly over the surrounding glade, epiphytes sprouted from the branches of trees that might have been there for a thousand years. A fairy scene from the Garden of Eden.
But if she had been Eve, Maddy thought with an unexpected giggle, and Griff had been Adam, the human race would have had a bumpy start.
Oh, really?
Startled by this unexpected sideswipe from her subconscious, she found herself remembering all too vividly the feel of his arms about her.
‘Really!’ she said, out loud, as if this put the matter beyond doubt.
But the light was going under the eerie green canopy of the forest and she didn’t have time to worry about her body’s unexpected response to a man her head disliked quite intensely — or time to linger by the pool, strip off her clothes and wash away the salt and sweat that clung to her skin. Instead, she scooped up a bucket of water and poured it over herself, gasping at the unexpected chill, then relishing the slow trickle of water through her hair, over her shoulders and down her body.
Tomorrow she would bathe here, she promised herself, dipping her hand into the pool, raising it to her lips to slake her thirst with the wonderfully clear water, before filling her bucket in much the same way as women have been doing since the beginning of history and making her dripping way back to the beach.There was no sign of Griff, but Maddy had no need to be driven to build a cooking fire; she was hungrier than she had been since the beginning of her holiday.
It didn’t occur to her to doubt that he would succeed in the task he had set himself. Griff would succeed at anything he set his mind to.
Just what has he set his mind to regarding you? her subconscious prompted.
‘Nothing. He doesn’t even like me,’ she muttered, but couldn’t help remembering that moment when he had looked at her, held her protectively. ‘I’m immune.’ she protested, shivering just a little. ‘Besides, there’s Zoë.’ She might not think he was a great choice but trespassing on her godmother’s love interest was a definite no-no.
Having cleared up that point, she set about making a fire.
When Griff returned with his catch, she was coughing from the smoke that had blown in her face as the wind had eddied across the beach, waving her hand frantically to clear the air.
He had stripped to the waist, his shoulders and chest were dewed with sea-water and his dark hair was slicked back. His shorts were still dry. Had he swum naked? She quickly dropped her eyes to the fire, glad that her cheeks were already pink from the heat, but if she had expected praise for her efforts she was doomed to disappointment.
‘You were right about not being a boy scout,’ was his only comment as, bare, sand-encrusted feet planted firmly apart, he stood over her and tossed a fish down beside her — for all the world, she thought furiously, like some caveman hunter bringing home the fruit of his labours. It was a grouper — a brown-mottled, bewhiskered fish, ugly as sin, but excellent to eat. This one was small for the breed. They could, Maddy knew, grow to positively monster proportions in the underwater caves where they lurked, but this one would make a good meal for the two of them. Griff had gutted and cleaned it, clearly assuming that she would take over the woman’s role and do the rest.
She looked at it uncertainly. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cook. She poached a fine salmon when the occasion demanded, but cooking a grouper on an open fire without utensils had somehow been overlooked on her cordon bleu course.
Ignoring the fish, she scrambled to her feet and followed Griff in the direction of the plane. ‘I’d like my bag,’ she said stiffly, and waited for him to get it for her. ‘I need a change of clothes.’
‘Help yourself,’ he said carelessly, taking the mooring rope and walking up the beach to the nearest palm and leaving her to pull her own heavy bag from the hold.
Maddy was achingly tired but she wasn’t about to give this obnoxious creature the pleasure, the satisfaction of seeing that she was as near the end of her tether as she had ever been. She caught the handle and pulled furiously. The bag swung free rather more easily than she’d anticipated and she staggered back and sat abruptly on her backside with it in her lap. For a moment — one miserable, split-second moment as she sat on the wet sand — she wished that she really were one of those helpless, pathetic women who just cried when things got beyond them. The kind of woman men rushed to comfort, the kind of woman she was certain Griff would pick up, wrap in his strong arms and hug better. But she wasn’t. She was a hard-working businesswoman who plastered her own cuts and, she reminded herself, that was exactly the way she wanted it.
She scrambled quickly to her feet and searched the floor of the cockpit for her sunglasses. She climbed aboard and finally spotted them poking out of the map pocket where Griff must have put them for safety. As she pulled them out an envelope came out with them, falling to the floor and spilling its contents. A cheque and a note.
She didn’t mean to look but Zoë’s familiar signature was unmistakable. The sum made her gasp.
CHAPTER THREE
‘DID you find what you were looking for?’
Griff’s voice, just below the cockpit window, made her jump and guiltily she pushed the cheque and note back into the envelope, stuffing them deep into the map pocket.
‘Yes, thank you.’ Forcing a smile to her lips, she turned and glanced down at him. ‘Just my handbag.’ She held it up.
‘Your lipstick could certainly do with a retouch,’ he agreed, but he held out his hands. ‘Do you want a hand down?’ Surprised by this unlooked-for gallantry, she put her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to swing her to the ground. He held onto her waist for a touch longer than absolutely necessary then said, ‘If you want anything from the cockpit just ask me in future.’
Because she might see something she shouldn’t? Too late for that, Mr Griffin, she thought.
‘I’m not entirely helpless,’ she said stiffly, trying to ignore the perilous nearness of his body. She didn’t normally find it so hard. But then Hugo Griffin ignored that ‘keep off’ sign that she had erected long ago.
‘Whether you are helpless or not remains to be seen, but you won’t be much use to me if you break your ankle, will you, Maddy Rufus?’
‘I’ve no intention of breaking anything,’ she snapped, but although his words seemed callous, she knew he was right. It didn’t make it any easier to take. He released her and returned to his task of tethering the plane and she found herself letting out a long, slow sigh of relief as she knelt and opened her bag to search for a T-shirt.
But Griff hadn’t quite finished. ‘I do realise that
you wouldn’t dream of sitting down to dinner without changing first,’ he said, giving the rope a final tug. ‘But since, for once in your life, you’re going to have to cook it might be advisable—’
‘I wasn’t actually planning on wearing an evening dress,’ she began, then saw amusement flicker momentarily in his eyes as they swept her damp, bedraggled figure before lighting on the elegant black gown that lay on top of her bag. ‘At least, not this one. A little too formal for the beach.’ She flicked it to one side. ‘Now this...’ She held out a simple slip of a dress, cut on the bias from heavy cream silk.
His eyes snapped. ‘I don’t like you in that.’
Maddy stared at the dress. It was a favourite; she had been wearing it when Rupert had flung himself at her and suddenly she didn’t much care for it herself.
‘No?’ She dropped it and rose to her feet. ‘I suppose it’ll have to be the black, then.’
‘I look forward to it but in the meantime your fire appears to have died down sufficiently to bake the fish.’
Her fire indeed! She laid no claim to it. ‘Just how do you propose I do that?’ she demanded. ‘Or do you have a secret supply of aluminium foil?’
‘No, but there’s plenty of the local equivalent.’
‘The local equivalent?’ She propped her fists on her hips. ‘I really can’t wait to hear this.’
‘Banana leaves.’ He began to walk away, then stopped and turned back. ‘Just watch out for the spiders.’
Maddy’s scalp prickled. ‘Couldn’t you—?’ she began, then saw his slow smile.
‘You’re not scared, are you, Maddy? Only, you did say you weren’t entirely helpless.’
‘No, of course I’m not scared,’ she said, too quickly, but in the face of his cool appraisal she clung stubbornly to her pride. ‘I’m not in the least bit frightened of spiders.’
‘No?’
Maddy disdained to answer but threw him a look that should have fried him on the spot. Disappointingly, he appeared not to notice, walking away without so much as a scorch-mark.
It wasn’t far to the spot where she had seen a banana tree and, knowing it would be fatal to stop and think, she immediately hacked off several of the thick, leathery leaves, leaping back as they crashed to the floor. Grabbing them by the tip she ran back to the beach, stumbling over roots as she went, her skin almost crawling as she flung the leaves from her and stepped quickly back, half expecting a host of hairy beasts to leap out and devour her.
Nothing happened. Of course, nothing happened. He had wound her up and she had performed, as obliging as a well-oiled clockwork toy.
‘All right there, Maddy?’ Griff said lightly as he joined her, hardly bothering to hide his amusement.
‘Just fine, Griff.’
‘Now, while dinner bakes, I suggest you give a little thought to where you’re going to build your shelter.’ Startled, she looked up. ‘You’re more than welcome to share mine, of course,’ he offered with mocking courtesy. ‘But something tells me that you wouldn’t be very keen on the idea.’
‘Then you’re more perceptive than I thought,’ she replied, with considerably more poise than she was feeling, glad that the heat from the fire covered her blushes. ‘I’d rather sleep on the beach.’
He smiled. At least, she thought that minute contraction of the lines fanning out from shaded eyes might just be his idea of a smile.
‘Well, there’s plenty of it to choose from. Help yourself,’ he said provokingly.
Damn! She’d done it again — put his back up when he might have helped her. But she was not about to beg him to do anything for her if that was what he was hoping. Or was it worse than that?
Was he taking advantage of the situation to make a little money from a wealthy young woman who was at the mercy of the elements? The thought was not a very pleasant one and, despite her father’s suspicions, if she hadn’t seen Zoë’s cheque she was certain that it would never have crossed her mind. Now, as she tried to push the idea away it seemed to take hold and grow. Well, there was only one way to find out.
She looked up at him, trying to ignore the strong line of his jaw, the blazing green eyes that promised so much, hypnotising her, enticing her into dangerous waters. ‘How much would you want to build me a shelter?’ she asked.
‘How much?’ He said it lightly enough, yet his eyes had clouded and a muscle tightened at the corner of his mouth. ‘It’s odd but for a second I almost believed you when you said you weren’t entirely helpless.’ He shook his head. ‘There’s no room service in paradise, Maddy. If you want a shelter you’re going to have to build one yourself. I’m not for sale.’
Stunned, she remained motionless as he strode swiftly away from her. She should have been angry, but her stupid heart was singing at his swift rejection of her offer of money. Then she came down to earth with a bump. With Zoë’s cheque tucked away in his plane, he wasn’t likely to risk everything for what she might offer.
‘Damn! That wasn’t very clever.’ She glanced at the fire, but there was nothing left to do. ‘Better change for dinner, Maddy, and put your thinking-cap on.’
At the far end of the beach the rocks formed a small enclosure, wide open to the sky but offering enough privacy to strip off and wipe herself down with the still damp flannel from her sponge bag before applying a generous helping of body lotion to her thirsty skin and brushing out her tangled hair. She applied insect repellent to the most sensitive areas and then dressed in a pair of thin cotton trousers and a long-sleeved T-shirt.
‘You smell good enough to eat,’ Griff remarked when she rejoined him. Maddy raised her eyebrows to cover her confusion at this unlooked-for compliment. ‘No doubt the bugs will be grateful for the invitation to dinner.’
‘I’m wearing an insect repellent,’ she replied, irritated with herself for falling into his trap.
‘Really?’ He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘If I was an insect, I don’t think I’d be repelled.’
‘If you were an insect, I’d swat you,’ she retaliated. It was his turn to raise a sardonic brow and it occurred to Maddy that if he were an insect, he would be a very large one and swatting him would not be so simple. ‘Do you think the fish will be ready yet?’ she asked quickly.
‘No,’ he said, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew precisely the reason for her abrupt change of subject.
What was it about him that set the hairs on her skin up like the fur of a cat rubbed the wrong way so that she constantly lashed out at him? His arrogant manner infuriated her, it was true, and she had concrete evidence that his interest in Zoë involved money in some way. They were reasons enough to dislike him, distrust him even, but that wasn’t what bothered her.
Her reaction to him was on a deeper, more unsettling level altogether. He had the kind of power that did something impossible to her insides whenever he was close. Like iron filings near a magnet, she could find no way to escape.
As if to give the lie to this thought, she moved away from him and threw herself down on the sand. But still her eyes were drawn irresistibly to him. The sinking sun lit his profile against the darkening rocks, glowing against the warm skin of his shoulders and chest. She shivered. There was something almost savage about him, as if this untouched wilderness was his perfect environment.
A while later he tossed a couple of coconuts onto the sand beside her. ‘I’ve no rum to make a punch, but it will help the fish down.
‘I prefer my coconut milk straight but it’s a bit rough on you,’ she said with mock concern. ‘You were going on holiday, weren’t you?’
‘Was I?’
‘The traffic controller hoped you had a good time when you signed off.’ He frowned and her heart gave an odd little lurch. Had she heard something she shouldn’t? ‘Were you going somewhere nice?’ she asked, hoping she sounded a great deal more casual about it than she felt. Or had he been going somewhere with a numbered bank account where he stashed his ill-gotten gains? Was that why he had been so put out at ha
ving to come and fetch her?
He shrugged and stretched out on the sand beside her, propping himself on one elbow. ‘Just fishing. Here will do as well as anywhere.’
‘You’ll understand if I don’t share your enthusiasm. I have absolutely no desire to spend two weeks here,’ she said. His eyes danced over her face and she received the distant impression that she had said something to amuse him. But he didn’t say anything. ‘There isn’t much in the way of home comforts or entertainment,’ she reminded him.
‘No, but I have you.’
‘Me?’ The word was startled from her.
‘You are an endless source of entertainment, Maddy Rufus,’ he said softly.
‘I’m glad I prove useful for something.’
‘Oh, you’re going to be useful,’ he assured her. ‘Tomorrow you’ll get your first fishing lesson. As for home comforts...’ He waved a careless hand, taking in the scene around them. ‘Perhaps you’ve been pampered long enough. It’s time you had a taste of the real world.’ Had she imagined the emphasis on ‘real’? She certainly hadn’t imagined the challenge in his voice, but she refused to apologise for her choice of holiday.
It was her first in the three hard years since she had started her own business. Spot a gap in the market and supply the need was her father’s philosophy, and never forget that people will always pay for the best. After listening to his endless complaints about the poor quality of clerical staff available, she had taken him at his word but it had been hard work establishing her business and making it one of the most successful staff agencies in London.
‘It looks,’ she said somewhat pointedly, ‘as if I’m going to have a taste of it whether I like it or not. At least until morning.’
‘Well, don’t worry. Paradise Island might be a little short on champagne but it has everything necessary for survival — good, clean water, fish to eat and fruit growing wild if you know where to look for it.’
‘And coconuts,’ she said, with just a touch of irony. ‘Pity about the hot shower, a bed, and a well-stocked refrigerator.’