‘Hey, once upon a time I did a winter solstice Antarctic swim,’ she told him. ‘Compared to that, this is sissy stuff. So I’m ready, whether you’re coming or not.’
And she turned and dived in.
* * *
She didn’t even gasp.
He expected to see her surface, spluttering with shock from the hit of ice-cold water. He had swum in this pool, when he was alone, when it was a whole lot hotter than it was today. The initial immersion had taken his breath away.
Gina simply dived in and swam as if she hadn’t even registered the cold. She looked sleek and confident, slicing easily through the water as she headed for the falls themselves. The film of tiny white flowers floating on the surface parted before her and closed over again as she continued.
During the walk her hair had been caught in a loose ponytail, but she’d set it free as she’d pulled off her shirt. All he could see as she swam was her back, barely covered by her gorgeous lingerie. Plus a mass of auburn curls streaming over her shoulders.
That was enough to take a man’s breath away.
She reached the falls, twisted and turned to face him, water streaming from her hair. A fine mist was floating over her face, but he could see that she was smiling. Laughing. A water sprite finding her home?
‘It’s amazing,’ she called. ‘Come on in.’
‘It’s freezing.’
‘Not once you get wet,’ she called, using the age-old phrase every smug swimmer used after they’d done the hard yards of that first jump in. She grinned and duck-dived—and disappeared.
He and Hoppy were left standing on the bank. Hoppy whined.
Did he think he should be jumping in to save her?
Why wasn’t he jumping in?
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was just...
A boundary he had no intention of crossing.
If he dived in... He’d be diving into what?
He could see her again now, just. She’d dived right under the falls and was behind the sheath of water tumbling over the cliff. There was a rock ledge behind the falls; he’d found it when he’d swum here before. You could pull yourself out of the water and sit and look out. She did for a moment and then slid back into the water again.
He got that. Despite her nonchalance, this water was really cold. Hopping out and hopping back in again would be murder.
He watched her duck-dive, then surface, right under the wash of the falls. She trod water, letting the water cascade over her. She held her face up to it, letting it stream down, then she held up her hands and twisted, turning slowly under the water’s flow.
She looked almost ecstatic.
Did she have any idea what she was doing to a man?
Hoppy was whining, running back and forth to the water’s edge, looking out at Gina and then frantically back at him. Do something, his body language said. Save her.
‘She’s not drowning,’ he told Hoppy, but he was starting to feel as if it was he who was at risk.
Of drowning? It didn’t make sense.
This was a nurse. A colleague. She was here temporarily, for family reasons. There was no reason he should feel so threatened. There was no reason he felt as though his foundations were being hauled from under him.
Hoppy had stilled now at the water’s edge, staring back at him, his whines becoming desperate.
‘Chicken,’ Gina called, and he knew that was exactly what he was.
‘Rather be a chicken than a dead hen,’ he called back, the response every kid knew and used for their own protection.
‘Scared of drowning?’ she called, and he thought, yes, he was.
Drowning in what? His own fears?
She was laughing, still twisting, the water coursing down over her. She was so lovely. She was so... Gina.
Enough. He kicked off his boots, then hauled off his shirt and trousers.
‘It’s not cold at all,’ Gina called, laughing.
‘Liar.’
‘You’re right, I am,’ she called back. ‘Don’t trust me at all.’ And she duck-dived again, disappearing under the surface of white flowers.
She could surface anywhere, he thought. She swam like a seal, totally at home in the water.
Don’t trust me.
He didn’t but he had no choice.
Chicken or a dead hen?
What the hell. Dive.
* * *
She surfaced and he was six inches from her nose. Gasping in shock.
Yeah, well, it was icy. It had taken every skerrick of resolve not to gasp when she’d dived in, and she was pretty proud of herself that she’d managed it. So now she heard his shock and she chuckled and duck-dived again.
She surfaced on the far side of the pool, which felt safer. Her knickers and bra were a bit too revealing. It was probably a bad idea to show this much skin to a guy who seemed to have been living in almost solitary confinement for years.
Not that she was worried about herself, she decided. She’d been a member of some heavily masculine-based teams over the years, and she’d held her own.
And if something did happen...
Yeah, well, she was twenty-nine years old and this guy was gorgeous—and she’d be leaving the island anyway.
Except why was there this niggle that she was playing with fire?
So what to do?
Swim, she decided. This was hardly the temperature to be frolicking in the shallows anyway.
The pool was narrow by the waterfall but widened into a long stretch before narrowing again to tumble over rocks at the far end and reform a creek. It was perfect for swimming lengths, and that was what she needed to do.
Despite the cold she needed to cool off. Not her body—that was tingling in the icy water. She needed to cool her thoughts, which were diverting to places they had no business diverting to.
Or maybe it wasn’t such a divergence. Maybe the attraction—and maybe that was too small a word for it—had been building since she’d met this man. A whole week of seeing him every day...
After four months of loneliness.
Or a lifetime...
Well, she wasn’t going there. Loneliness was something she’d been born into and stepping outside was far too high a risk.
She’d remembered the happiness and hope when her parents had picked her up from school that last appalling time. They were angry that she’d been expelled, that she’d messed with their plans, but her dad had always been a rebel. When they’d got her out from under the headmistress’s eagle eye, her dad had said, ‘Yeah, well, you are our daughter. Maybe it’s time we took you into the family business instead of leaving you to the care of others.’
She’d sat in their little plane and she’d held her ferret and she’d felt a surge of something she’d never felt before. Hope?
And then after the nightmare of the crash, Babs had greeted her off the plane and actually hugged her. For a tiny glimmer of time, once again she’d held hope that here was a safe haven.
And then she’d woken to Babs explaining the brick.
Well, she wasn’t going down that road again, and the attraction she had for the guy swimming beside her had nothing to do with any long-term need.
But short-term desire?
She swam and she thought it wouldn’t hurt to try dragging him out of his solitary state for a while. Who knew what hurt had been inflicted on him besides his obvious wounds? But over the years she’d realised that superficial connection helped. It helped her. Her nursing. Being part of expedition teams. Being needed...
She’d watched Hugh this week and he was a fine doctor. And this island needed a doctor. When Babs died she’d leave, but in the meantime...maybe it wouldn’t hurt to drag this guy into being needed.
And then he swam a bit too close and his arm brushed hers and she forgot all about con
niving plans to rescue anyone. She started to think...well, nothing really.
She just felt.
They swam on but closer, lapping silently back and forth. She was a decent swimmer herself, but she could almost feel him holding back to match her, stroke for stroke.
And the awareness of his body...the brush of his arm against hers as they stroked in tandem...
She was forgetting how cold the water was. She was forgetting pretty much anything but how close he was to her. It was a kind of merging, this tandem swimming, their arms just brushing as each stroke drove them forward.
She was speeding up. There was so much force within her and it had to find somewhere to go. She was swimming and swimming, pushing herself on, but unconsciously—or consciously?—willing him to stay with her. The line between sense and instinct was blurring. She was feeling the heat from the brush of his body. Feeling the force of him...
And then, finally, as the pace quickened to the point where she felt as if she might explode, they reached the waterfall again. As she twisted into a turn she surfaced, and her shoulders were caught. Two strong arms held her close. Held her safe. Held her...
And then he kissed her.
Of course he did. This was the culmination of what seemed almost inevitable. It was so...perfect.
The water was streaming over their faces, but neither noticed. He was tugging her close as he kissed. Her breasts were moulding against him.
The strength of him... The heat, the taste, the need...
Dear heaven, she wanted this man, and she wanted him with every fibre of her body. She wanted to be closer. Closer!
Ever since that first kiss her body had been aching to be closer. She was old enough, mature enough, woman enough, to accept this for what it surely must be: pure sexual attraction. There it was, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
Just don’t be stupid, she told herself now, in the tiny part of her brain that was left to form such sensible thoughts. She’d drilled that into herself over her lifetime. Be safe. Make no commitment.
But surely...surely...
But suddenly decisions weren’t in her side of the court. He was pulling away and it felt as if part of her was ripping. He was still holding her but at arm’s length; he was smiling into her eyes, but she saw a hint of trouble.
‘Gina, we can’t.’
‘Why can’t we?’ How she managed to get her voice to work was beyond her, but she managed it. Water was still streaming over both their faces, and maybe her words should have come out as a gurgle, but instead it was a rock-solid question.
His hands were still holding her shoulders. His smile had died but his eyes were on hers.
‘I didn’t...’
‘Well, I did,’ she said, suddenly sure of where she needed this to go. ‘If you think I carted that picnic pack all the way here just to carry sandwiches and fruitcake, you’re very much mistaken.’
There was a moment’s stunned silence. ‘You planned...’
‘Nope,’ she said and was proud of how calm her voice sounded. As if it was no big deal. Which it wasn’t. Was it?
‘I didn’t plan. But a girl can hope.’
‘So...’
‘Half a dozen condoms...packed under the sandwiches,’ she told him.
‘Half a dozen,’ he said faintly, and she grinned.
‘Yeah, but we need to get home by dusk.’
‘Gina...’
‘Up to you,’ she said simply. ‘But I’m in if you’re in.’
For one long moment he held her gaze. His eyes were dark, fathoms deep. Questioning.
‘Hey, no strings,’ she said, a bit too quickly as his gaze intensified. ‘We’re consenting adults. I don’t do long-term commitment. I’m based nowhere, and when Babs dies, I’ll be gone, so no expectations. But if you don’t want...’
‘If you knew how much I wanted,’ he said, his voice ragged.
‘Well, that’s excellent,’ she said, and her own voice wobbled a bit. ‘Because I want, too.’
And then, somehow, they were out of the water, onto the mossy bank. Entwined.
Hoppy waffled off into the undergrowth to explore, casting the odd reproachful look back. This was boring. He wanted some excitement.
He was doomed to be bored for a very long time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HE MUST HAVE SLEPT. Not for long, surely, for the sun was still warm on his naked skin.
It wasn’t as warm as the woman curved against his body.
His arms were around her, even in sleep. The gorgeous curve of her naked back fitted perfectly against his chest. Her curls were still damp, and they brushed his face.
He’d slept holding her.
What sort of oaf went straight to sleep after making love with such a woman? A woman who’d offered herself with warmth, generosity, with an open heart...
Open heart?
Don’t go there.
He must have stirred because she did, too, stretching like a cat, her body shifting from his as she did, and he was aware of an absurd dense of desolation. Of loss.
She’d only moved six inches.
‘I slept,’ he managed, regretful. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Hey, I did, too,’ she told him, pushing herself up to sitting and smiling down at him. Her damp curls twined across her face and, oh, that smile. It was enough to make a man’s heart melt.
There he went again. Heart.
No.
‘Don’t you dare be sorry,’ she told him. ‘Unless it’s because not all of that little pack of six are going to see the light of day this afternoon.’
‘Gina...’
‘Or ever,’ she said, a bit too quickly. ‘You don’t have to say no strings. I told you, I’m the last one to want ’em. Rings on fingers, home and hearth, they’re for other people, not for me. What I do want, though, is lunch. I’m famished.’
She reached for her shirt and buttoned it back over her gorgeous breasts, then snagged her panties. Somehow in those first few moments she’d managed to flip them onto a nearby bush, and the wispy lace must now be almost dry.
She’d planned this?
Half a dozen condoms...
She was now kneeling beside the picnic basket, fishing through its contents. ‘Egg sandwiches,’ she said in satisfaction. ‘On Babs’s home-made sourdough. Yum.’
‘Did Babs help you plan this?’
That stopped her. He’d spoken without thinking, and he heard the unvoiced implication in his question.
She sat back on her heels and looked at him. He’d pushed himself to sitting and was hauling on his trousers. Putting distance between them?
Yes, he was.
‘Wow.’ A crease furrowing her forehead. ‘You’re angry because I packed egg sandwiches? Nope? Then I guess it’s the condoms?’
‘I’m not used to...’
‘Being seduced. Neither am I,’ she said frankly. ‘This wasn’t seduction, Hugh. This was the build-up of a hell of a week. A hell of a few weeks for me. I needed it. I needed you. More, I believe you needed me. Not for ever, not for anything past this moment, but there was a need. So if you think packing condoms was a sin, then guilty as charged. And if you think packing egg sandwiches was also part of some deep, dark plot to drag you somewhere you don’t want to go, then that’s double sandwiches for me. I might even share with Hoppy, who doesn’t seem to be looking at me with the same sort of judgement you are. Scarlet woman? Go take another cold dip, Hugh, and let me get on with enjoying myself.’ And she picked up one of her sandwiches and headed across to the bank of the pool. She sat on the moss, dipped her legs in the water and bit into her sandwich. With her back to him.
Whoa.
He felt...slapped.
No. It was he who’d done the slapping. He thought of her background, of what she’d told him of her
life, and he felt small. She was lovely, fun, exuberant. She was accepting life with all its challenges. More, she was embracing it.
She’d embraced him.
He glanced at her now and he accepted, without reservations, that what she’d given him had no strings attached. They’d made love as part of a glorious morning. She’d given him such a gift...
She was expecting nothing.
He thought of relationships he’d had in the past. There’d always been expectations.
With Gina...she’d shared her body with joy. A gift indeed.
He fished a sandwich out of the basket and went and sat beside her. They looked out over the pool and he tried to get his thoughts together.
‘I didn’t mean...’
‘You did mean,’ she said, but serenely now, and a little bit muffled because she was enjoying her sandwich. ‘I can pick judgement when I hear it. So here’s a question. Why is it okay for a guy to keep a condom in his wallet but not okay for a woman to slip a pack into the bottom of a picnic basket?’
There was now no anger in her voice. It was just a question.
Moving on.
‘I’m very glad you did.’
‘There wasn’t one in your wallet?’
‘I didn’t bring my wallet.’
‘Because you had no intention of sex?’
‘I had no intention of...anything.’
‘Really?’ She twisted and faced him. ‘No intention of anything, ever again? Just how badly were you hurt, Hugh?’
‘I wasn’t...’
‘Well, you were,’ she said, calmly. ‘That’s a vicious scar on your leg—yes, I saw it—and that burn on your face must have taken months to heal. But I wasn’t asking about those hurts. What’s the worst?’
How had he got here?
He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want questions. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone for the rest of his life.
But here she was, a woman he’d just held, a woman who’d offered herself to him, who’d loved him with generosity and passion, a woman who carried wounds herself...
Healing Her Brooding Island Hero Page 10