by Maxine Barry
‘My my, how gallant,’ she drawled. But didn’t quite have the nerve to slip her hand through his arm, as Jinx would have done. Or fish for even more compliments.
‘It’s beginning to get hot. Shall we go for a cool drink?’ he asked, his mocking eyes seeming to read her like a book.
‘Sounds wonderful,’ she agreed. It was time to take charge. If only she could keep her wayward heart from ruining her plans.
They stopped at a small cafe overlooking Consett Bay. Sitting out on the terrace, under huge, gaily striped umbrellas, they watched the bright blue sea sparkling under the noon day sun. Windsurfers, para gliders, water skiers and racing boat riders made use of the stunning blue waters, whilst white-capped waves foamed to the shore of perfect, white sand.
Payne ordered the drinks, and when the cocktails came, tall, icy-glassed concoctions full of fruit and rum, a tiny replica of the gaily striped umbrella thrust down amongst the ice, Charmaine stared at it in horror.
What was it? And how on earth was one supposed to drink it?
She reached for the little cocktail umbrella and twirled it absently, whilst looking at the apricot-coloured drink. Did you sip through the ice and fruit, or were you supposed to eat the fruit first?
She knew what Jinx would do—capture Payne’s glance, then fish out the fruit with her bare fingers and playfully eat it, letting the juice run down her chin, and challenging him to lick it off. . ..
But she couldn’t do that. Not even for the sake of her plan. Not even for her beloved Lucy.
Instead she took a tentative sip, then gasped and nearly choked as the rum hit the back of her mouth, with an after-taste of coconut. Her eyes watered, making them shine like Ceylon sapphires.
Payne watched her, a small, gentle smile, playing with his lips.
‘You’re really not much of a drinker, are you?’ he murmured. This woman was nothing if not an enigma. As co-owner of one of the leading Fashion Houses in the world, she must be rich in her own right. And yet she didn’t know how to drink a cocktail. She could have lived in a penthouse in Paris, or a palatial villa in Spain, and yet, according to her friend and business partner, she lived alone in a modest cottage. And apparently didn’t even date, let alone play the field, as any other modern, wealthy woman in such a glamorous profession would do.
‘They look delicious,’ Charmaine said, reaching for a quince-like fruit growing in the wild grounds bordering the terrace. She reached for it, then jumped as Payne shot across the table and grabbed it out of her hand.
‘That’s poisonous!’ he said roughly. ‘What’s the matter with you woman, are you trying to kill yourself?’ he snarled.
He’d gone white under the tan at the near miss, and Charmaine recoiled from the raw passionate anger in his voice.
‘I didn’t know! Besides, I wouldn’t have eaten it,’ she snapped defensively.
Payne shook his head and lobbed the forbidden fruit over the edge, towards the bay. ‘I can see I’m going to have to take you in hand. Come on, let’s go.’
‘Go where?’ she asked, glad to abandon her drink, and the seductive view of the bay.
‘For a tour of the island. I can see I’m going to have to acclimatise you.’
And that wasn’t all he wanted to do to her either. But that could wait until darkness had fallen!
Charmaine looked up and saw the smouldering look in his eyes. And once again, felt her world tilt beneath her.
CHAPTER SIX
Still smarting at the way he’d so highhandedly treated her over the poisonous fruit, Charmaine fumed silently as he led her from the gardens and out onto the road, where a low-slung, bottle-green Lamborghini was parked.
‘Don’t tell me. You won this playing poker from an oil tycoon in Texas,’ she said ever-so-sweetly, as he opened the door for her. She brushed past him as she got in, well aware of the way her thigh brushed against his as she swung her legs around.
‘Of course not,’ he said softly, closed the door, then leaned down to smile into her eyes. ‘I was playing dice in a New York alleyway with a rather dissolute rock and roll star who was rather the worse for drink.’
Charmaine’s lips twitched. Really, the man was impossible. And she didn’t believe him for an instant.
‘I refuse to believe you would have taken advantage of someone when they were incapacitated,’ she said firmly as he folded his long length behind the wheel.
The car, which was already very low slung, suddenly became very cramped as well as he reached forward to turn on the ignition, and when he reached down to put the car in gear, his arm brushed against her leg. Instead heat shot into her, turning her insides liquid.
She drew in a quick, rasping breath. Damn the man, why couldn’t he drive one of those big, spacious, modern cars like everyone else?
‘Why thank you,’ he drawled, pulling away smoothly, the powerful car quickly making short work of the speed limit. ‘That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me so far.’
For a moment, Charmaine was puzzled. Then she understood and bit her lip.
But he was right. So why was she so sure that Payne Lacey wouldn’t have all but conned a drunken spoilt rock star out of his prized possession? She shook her head helplessly. Before flying to this island, she would have bet her last penny that that was just the sort of behaviour she could expect of this casino-owning, playboy’s attitude to life.
Now she would have bet her life against it ever happening.
Then she felt a spurt of anger as she realised she was beginning to see life through his eyes. Bet her life indeed! Payne was the gambler. She was the sensible, normal one. She really must not let him affect her this way. Besides, all it meant was that he had a warped sense of ethics, that was all.
‘But you’re right,’ he said, confusing her all over again, until he looked across at her and grinned widely. ‘It was the rock star’s manager I was betting against, and he was stone cold sober. In fact, he has the reputation of having a mind like a steel trap.’
She opened her mouth to ask him what it was he had put up as a bet against this magnificent car, then quickly snapped her lips shut again.
She didn’t want to know.
She didn’t!
She curled her fingers into fists as she wondered what it could be. Another car. No, that seemed too tame. And surely not his casino or a hotel. She forced herself to look at the passing scenery whilst Payne shot her another look, a wide grin creasing his handsome face.
‘You’re just dying to know, aren’t you?’ he said softly.
‘I am not!’ she said hotly. ‘Your ridiculous lifestyle affects me not at all. Oh, I expect most people find it glamorous and fascinating, but I’m far more down to earth.’
Payne shot past another car as if it was standing still. Being so low to the ground, it felt as if they were going so fast they must take off at any moment, and she had to admit she found the sensation thrilling. Terrifying, but thrilling. And yet he was such a superb driver, and the car seemed to be such an extension of his own self, that she never truly felt as if her life was in danger. Or that anyone else on the road need fear them, either.
‘So, where would you like to go first?’ he asked, as he turned off the main road onto a single lane track which led through sand dunes and tufted grass, the bright azure streak that was the Caribbean sea playing hide and seek with them as they twisted and turned.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a bikini on under those very fetching shorts, have you?’ he mused, and she glanced nervously down at the expanse of tanned leg she was showing.
‘No,’ she said truthfully, and with evident relief. At least that was one temptation she wouldn’t have to deal with—sunbathing nearly nude on a deserted island beach with this man next to her, looking at her with those wickedly knowing eyes of his.
Payne laughed softly. ‘No need to look so pleased about it. Most women like to swim in the warm sea and lay out on the sand under a palm tree.’
Charmaine shrugged one sh
oulder. ‘Not me,’ she said firmly. Although it sounded wonderful.
But she wouldn’t be able to trust herself. And she certainly couldn’t trust this man, of all men, to act the gentleman!
‘So, you really are a little miss prim and proper. I know just the activity for you.’
And with that he accelerated away up an even narrower track that climbed higher up onto the top of a high cliff, overlooking Ragged Point. He pulled the car off road, onto a sandy, grass-compacted stretch of earth and turned off the engine.
Silence engulfed them for a moment. Then she heard the susurration of the ever-present sea, the high keening cry of some gulls, and the eerie, moaning lament of the wind. She got out nervously, looking around the deserted terrain. It was a spectacular view, with the rugged rocks and the sea stretching out as far as you could see, but there was not a soul in sight.
What was this?
The wind tugged at her T-shirt as she closed the car door behind her, and rattled her cotton shorts against her derriere. But it was a warm, strong wind, and the sensation wasn’t in the least unpleasant.
If only she knew what they were doing here!
She watched him nervously as he moved around to the trunk of the car, opened the boot, and looked at her over the top. ‘Tah-dah!’ he said, whipping out a bright red, yellow and brown piece of shaped plastic. It took her a moment to recognise it as a kite. A sumptuous, modern, complex kite, shaped like a bird of prey.
‘Since even Mary Poppins approved of flying a kite, I felt sure you wouldn’t object,’ he said cheekily.
Charmaine didn’t know whether to laugh or stamp her foot in vexation. All right, so she wasn’t another Jinx, and flirting and making love wasn’t her forte, but did he really see her as that quintessential, goody-two-shoes English nanny?
And then she frowned. ‘Wait a minute. You already had a kite in the boot.’
Payne shrugged but looked just a shade abashed. ‘True. My sister and nephew were over here last month, and Adrian, my nephew, was into flying in a big way.’ He slammed the boot shut and began to prepare the kite. It looked complicated, with all sorts of strings and pulleys, but soon he had it working. ‘The little scamp’s only ten, but he could show me a thing or two,’ he said, with such exasperated affection in his voice that, for a moment, her throat closed up with emotion and she couldn’t say a word.
Payne Lacey, the adoring uncle? The richest man for miles, the dedicated gambler, the ultimate playboy, flying a kite with his nephew? How many more unnerving surprises was he going to spring on her?
‘Here we go,’ he said, turning to run a few steps and launch the multi-coloured eagle into the air. He ran fast and well, turning on a dime, as sure footed as a mountain goat as he twisted and turned to catch the wind currents and raise the bird aloft.
She looked at the edge of the cliff nervously. Had the man no sense of danger at all?
‘Want to hold her? I call her Valkyrie.’ He held out the two small wooden poles to her, and without a second thought she reached out for them. Immediately she felt the pull and power of the wind as the strings twitched in her hands and the eagle abruptly nose dived, as if mortally wounded.
‘Whoa! Keep your arms up—like this,’ he said, stepping behind her and taking her hands in his.
Instantly her buttocks tingled as they were pressed into his groin, and her back and shoulders quivered against the flat hard muscular planes of his chest and shoulders. So intense was her sudden desire for him that she nearly cried out. She very nearly let go of the kite as well. In fact, if his hands hadn’t been cupped over hers, guiding the strings, she might well have done.
She gasped, and then tried to disguise her reaction with a laugh. ‘It’s wonderful,’ she said tensely, licking lips gone suddenly dry. ‘Who’d have thought flying a kite could be so invigorating.’
And then she felt another kind of hardness, pressing against her derriere, and her face flamed.
Behind her, his lips almost pressed against her ear, Payne said dryly, ‘Yes. Who’d have thought it.’
What did she do now? Pretend not to notice. Make a saucy comment? She knew what Jinx would do. But she was Charmaine Reece, and was consequently tongue-tied. She took a step forward, breathing a sigh of relief as he let her go. And perhaps feeling just a pang of disappointment?
She jiggled one hand, watching the bird dip and swoop. She mustn’t let her perfectly natural, physical reaction, upset her. It meant nothing. It couldn’t mean anything, could it?
‘I think I’m getting the hang of this,’ she called back over her shoulder, unaware that he was watching her with sardonic, knowing eyes.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ he whispered, his voice almost agonised.
She looked at him over her shoulder, her big blue eyes wide and innocent. ‘What?’
He shook his head ruefully. ‘Nothing,’ he said, sitting down on a clump of grass, willing his body to relax. It was not easy. He wanted her so badly he ached!
His eyes feasted on the sight of her with the kite, the way her shorts curved around her sexy bottom, the way her breasts, unfettered under the T-shirt bounced and swayed as she ran and turned, watching the kite with undisguised joy, and he shook his head ruefully.
Just what the hell was he supposed to do with this child-woman?
* * *
They stopped for tea, the traditional good old English kind, at a small cafe near Bathsheba. She ordered India, he China, and she was amused to note that fresh baked scones, which her grandmother would be proud to acknowledge as her own, were served with home-made strawberry preserve and clotted cream. They were even seated outside, on surprisingly comfortable iron-work chairs, amidst a glorious garden.
Only the exotic blooms and colourful, darting birds gave away the fact that they were a long way from the Cotswolds or any other equally picturesque but utterly English pastoral location. That and the bright, fierce heat of the afternoon sun. Surely no such sun ever shined in Oxfordshire!
A young and very-much-in-love couple kissed under the shade of a big tree in one corner of the garden, whilst an old man dozed behind his newspaper at the next table over. Other than these, they had the place to themselves.
‘No wonder you chose to live here,’ she said softly, watching as a bird, a flash of iridescent green, fed from the nectar of an hibiscus bloom.
‘It beats Cardiff on a wet Sunday afternoon,’ he agreed, and for the first time Charmaine was able to put a name to that very slight, singsong quality to his voice.
So he was Welsh. Or had been. Now nobody would deny he was a true citizen on the world. She was sure she’d read somewhere that he worked in both Australia and America before coming to Barbados.
She watched him reach forward and spoon a little piece of strawberry preserve and place it on the tip of his finger.
What on earth? She abruptly sat forward on her chair, her heart hammering in her breast. Surely he wasn’t going to offer her the morsel? And if he did, would she actually have the nerve to lick it off? She knew that she should. If she was ever to win him over and break his fickle heart, she would have to start luring him somehow.
She swallowed nervously. Could she reach forward, slowly, letting her eyes become dreamy and sensuous, whilst capturing his wrist lightly in her fingers? A soft sigh feathered past her lips as she could almost feel the hard bone under her caressing fingers, his warm, tanned skin lightly dusted with fine, blonde hair. He’d catch his breath as she pulled his hand towards her, his own lips parting in desire as she opened her mouth, preparatory to pulling his finger inside.
Her tongue began to tingle in anticipation of licking the sweet jam from his finger, perhaps tasting the merest hint of salt from off his skin. He’d watch as her lips closed around his finger in a perfect ‘O’ as she sucked. Only softly at first, but then harder, making him breathe harshly, maybe even . . .
‘Watch,’ he said, and lifted his finger a little into the air in front of him—and firmly away from her.
/> She blinked, aware that she was the one breathing hard. She was the one caught in a web of sensuality. And then, the very next moment, before she had the chance to become angry or embarrassed, a flash of green and turquoise flashed across the air with a soft whirr of wings, and a small bird hovered over his finger.
Charmaine gasped. ‘Oh. Oh, he’s beautiful.’
‘A sun bird, I think,’ he said. ‘Marissa, the owner of the cafe, has spent years teaching them this trick.’
The bird landed on Payne’s finger and began to lick the jam with a long, sticky tongue.
‘I can hardly feel him, he’s so light,’ Payne said, looking across at her, his heart contracting at the look of delighted wonderment in her eyes.
‘Can I?’ she wondered aloud, reaching for the spoon eagerly.
‘Not too much,’ he warned, and she put the merest speck of red onto her upturned fingertip.
The bird continued to feed hungrily on Payne’s finger, but no other birds moved towards them. Then, just when she thought she would be out of luck, she caught a flash of crimson, black and white, out of the corner of her eye.
It was not a bird, however, but a butterfly, with elongated oval wings. She watched as if fluttered closer in that zig zagging haphazard flight unique to their species. Several times she thought it was going to fly away, but slowly it fluttered ever closer, seemed to hover playfully around her outstretched finger, as if working up the courage to land, then suddenly alighted.
Charmaine froze, determined not to scare the beautiful creature away. She was unaware how Payne stared at her, mesmerised by the sight. She looked so incredibly beautiful, rapt and blissful, in a world of her own.
And, oh he wanted her to look at him like that!
He shook his head, frightening the bird on his hand into sudden whirling flight.
If he had any sense, he’d find out what she was up to, teach her not to play games with him, then send her packing back to her Oxford cottage a much wiser and perhaps sadder woman.
That was what he should do.
But when she turned starry eyes back to him, he knew he’d never be able to do it.