by Robyn Grady
‘What are you waiting for? A ticker-tape parade?’
His smile turned warm. ‘You deserve one.’
They climbed on board. The interior smelled much like an older model car left in the sun. He took a seat at the front and indicated she should sit beside him. Her gaze zigzagged over the maze of instruments on the dashboard. Looked like a heck of a lot of things could go wrong.
‘Might make you feel better if I explain what these all do?’ He pointed to a clock device. ‘This is the—’
Her sweaty palm death-gripped his thigh. ‘Please. Don’t.’ With the small cabin squeezing in more around her, her teeth were a bee’s knee away from chattering. ‘I only have one question.’
His eyes shone with admiration. ‘What’s that?’
‘Do you have paper bags?’
‘Panic attack?’
She showed him an index finger and thumb an inch apart. ‘An iddy-biddy bit of a one.’
‘There’s only one cure for that.’
‘Morphine?’
‘To get this baby in the air. Buckle up.’ His chest beneath the polo shirt inflated as he fastened his belt. ‘We’ll be there in no time.’ He indicated her headphones and fixed his own. ‘We’ll talk to keep your mind off the altitude.’
He fired the single engine, the noise kicked in, then he did his thing with the instruments. With her seat vibrating beneath her, she closed her eyes, said a prayer and didn’t breathe again until the plane was in the air.
A petrifying yet strangely exhilarating ten thousand feet in the air.
After the initial ‘I’m gonna throw up’ reflex had passed, Eden was beyond amazed to learn that Devlin had been right. When she convinced herself it was too late to back out and forced her mind into a rickety state of acceptance, she chanced a stiff look out the window and, remarkably, began to enjoy the ride.
After passing patchworks of suburban buildings and swimming pools, they flew over a field of low stratus cloud. On the right an endless stretch of tranquil teal ocean glittered with sun diamonds.
Man, she was really doing it! It was worth the half-moons dug into the palms of her hands—this sense of freedom and daring, knowing that, if the sun failed to rise tomorrow, she’d faced her greatest fear and could face it again.
Sorry truth was she’d have to if she wanted to get back home.
Devlin pointed out landmarks—the snaking Hawkesbury River, the shipping port town of Newcastle, the peaks and valleys of the Great Dividing Range, the fourth longest mountain range in the world. She’d got close to comfortable with hurtling through the stratosphere in a tin can by the time the plane began to descend—then the knot in her freefalling stomach wrenched again.
Holding her headphones, she stole a wide-eyed glance straight down. No land beneath them, only water—and more water.
Her thin laugh held a hysterical edge. ‘I didn’t think this was a seaplane.’
He pointed and she heard through the headphones, ‘There’s our destination.’
Eden sat forward and focused. ‘An island.’
‘It’s called le Paradis sur Terre. It means heaven on earth.’
A few minutes later, the plane touched down and the brakes were applied. As the engine and wind noise changed pitch again the cabin bumped and she clamped her eyes shut, clinging on for dear life. When the plane rolled to a stop, she told her heart to quit booming, then cautiously opened her eyes.
Beyond the window, majestic palms bordered the unsealed airstrip. Sprays of vermillion, deepest scarlet, sun-kissed orange—a veritable painter’s palette of flowers wove natural tapestries throughout the lush foliage. When they emerged from the craft and stepped into the warm luminous sunshine, Eden was lifted up by the sweet fresh air—the scent of sea blended with the perfume of exotic plants.
Amazed, she rotated three-sixty degrees. ‘Is this place real? It’s not a set for a remake of Endless Love?’
His dark blue eyes sparkling, he ruffled a hand through hair flattened by the headphones. ‘It’s real. Come and meet the staff.’
So engrossed by the scenery, she hadn’t noticed a man and woman walking towards them. Middle-aged, the man wore dungarees and a broad welcoming smile beneath his wide-brimmed straw hat. The woman’s pink-and-yellow sarong was tied at the nape. Her hair was long, uncommonly thick and dark. Her eyes were as gentle as a doe’s.
Eden liked them both instantly.
The man extended his large tanned hand. ‘This is Tianne. And I’m Gregory.’ His voice was deep and clear like the coral-laced waters surrounding the island. ‘You must be Mr Stone.’
‘Call me Devlin.’ He tipped his head. ‘This is Eden.’
‘Such a pretty name.’ Tianne presented a bunch of vibrant flowers that smelled like jasmine. ‘I hope you enjoy your stay.’
Eden accepted the gift. ‘I’m sure I will.’
Gregory removed his hat. ‘Mr Bruce asked us to have every convenience on hand. The cold box is full. The wine rack too. There’s a map in the bungalow pointing out the island’s many wonders.’
Scanning the scene, pleased with what he saw and heard, Devlin nodded. ‘Excellent. We’ll see you back here on Tuesday, then.’
‘You’ll hear our boat’s motors returning after dawn. There’s a second boat moored and fuelled if you want to reach parts of the island that way.’
Gregory explained the short route to their accommodation, as well as to the staff quarters a short distance away. Then Tianne gently waved her palms in overlapping figure eights. ‘Pleasant stay.’
With knapsacks on their backs, the couple disappeared through a track in the foliage.
‘It’s a reasonably short trip by motorboat to the mainland,’ Devlin explained as he relieved her of her overnighter then, looping his arm through hers, steered her towards the track Gregory had indicated.
Eden held onto his arm and once again took in their fantastical surrounds. ‘Then we’re all alone?’
‘Just you, me—’ he chuckled ‘—and a million birds.’
At the same time they heard Tianne and Gregory’s boat engine kick in and the craft speed away, a gorgeous Balinese-style dwelling with a thatched roof appeared in a clearing. The design fitted perfectly with the tropical setting, exuding understated luxury as well as sturdy authenticity.
He led her up three wide timber steps. ‘You like?’
‘Are you kidding?’ She loved it. ‘Gregory mentioned a Mr Bruce. He owns this island?’ Devlin nodded. ‘What is he? A bazillionaire?’
‘Pretty much,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘R. J. Bruce and I hit it off at a private poker game in London. He said if I ever wanted to visit le Paradis to give him a call. He comes here maybe twice a year.’
Eden soaked up her surroundings…the sweet sound of the birds, the ideal temperature, the spicy calming scent of virgin nature. ‘If I were Mr Bruce, I don’t know I’d ever want to leave.’
On the veranda, Devlin turned and studied her as she stood on a lower step. ‘We can stay longer if you’d like.’
His eyes looked so deep, she wanted to fall into them and never come up for air. But this adventure needed a finite time frame or, once again, she’d be confronting the problem of kicking her Devlin habit.
So, before she could become any more tempted, she threw back her shoulders and reminded him, ‘We both have responsibilities to get back to.’
She passed him, walking through into the main room. She gasped when she caught sight of a magnificent spread of food on an enormous low square table.
She drifted forward. ‘What’s all this?’
Exotic fruit, every colour, every shape, and a pitcher of some exquisite-smelling nectar—mango and perhaps passionfruit based—sat on a bamboo place mat.
Feeling like an island princess, she snapped off a plump green grape, sighing when the juice burst in her mouth at the same time she saw the view from the bedroom.
Classic Oriental furniture looked to be crafted from the darkest wood. Abstract sculptures of
tall, slender animals and birds presided in a serene and regal fashion around the room. A porcelain bowl and pitcher sat on the dresser while a motorised fan, consisting of three large rattan flaps on a rod, washed fresh air back and forth.
The bed wasn’t king-sized. Rather it looked…cosy. Piles of pillows and cushions, so many shapes of sequined coloured silk, were piled up against the heavy wooden bed head.
Drawn by the view, she crossed the room.
Through the large window—free of glass—scallops of Pacific Ocean surf crashed and ebbed upon an idyllic stretch of beach. Seagulls wheeled beneath a dome of blemish-free blue while stranded seashells sparkled on the sand.
A set of strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Her stomach jumped and she tried to spin around, but Devlin held her in place.
‘What’s the verdict?’ he asked against her ear as his hands folded over her waist and drew her closer still.
With his fresh masculine scent mingling with the salty air, she sighed again and leaned her head back against his shoulder. ‘It’s enough to make me want to move from the city.’
‘What? No mochachinos, no theatre, no shoe stores.’
‘Just the ocean, the sun—’
‘And you and me.’
Her heart thudded madly as he twirled her around. His smiling eyes roamed her face as his hands shaped down her bare arms.
‘What do you want to do?’
She longed to be brazen and suggest they jump into that bed and do what they both ached to do. Already she felt his hot, hard body moving over hers, heard his rumbling endearments as he brought her to the cusp of a mind-blowing orgasm.
But while she’d felt beyond reckless and impatient yesterday when she’d suggested they get a room, now the tingly wash through her veins urged her to squeeze as much out of this experience as she could.
Initially two days alone with Devlin had seemed like an eternity that held far too many uncertainties, yet, now they were here, time seemed to be turned on its head, falling through the hourglass way too quickly. If her heart could handle this limited spell in his company, she might as well prolong and savour every delectable minute.
His eyes burned into hers, waiting for a verdict, while the island hummed of a thousand exotic, and erotic, possibilities.
‘Late yesterday you were interested in talking,’ she said, drawing out his suspense.
‘We talked on the plane.’ Edging closer, his head slanted near to hers. ‘I’m practically talked out.’
‘And now you’re ready for something more.’
His hot gaze on her lips, his fingers brushed her cheek as he combed back a strand of her hair. ‘More sounds good.’
‘Like getting out of these travel clothes?’
‘A sensible idea.’
‘And maybe we should grab a bottle of chilled champagne and some fruit.’
‘I’m tempted.’ His lips hovered achingly close to hers. ‘More than tempted.’
‘We can have a picnic.’
He grinned. ‘In bed.’
‘Outdoors.’
His smile changed, then his hand wove around to caress the responsive dip low in her back. ‘Outdoors definitely works for me.’
Her fingertips measured his sandpaper jaw. ‘We could go for a swim afterwards. I brought my bikini.’
‘Glad you came prepared, but—’ he flicked open the top button on her blouse ‘—you won’t need it.’
Twenty minutes later, he and Eden were indeed outdoors, enjoying a meal of cheese, airy bread, the freshest fruit along with that nectar, which had been brewed for the pleasure of the gods.
Lounging on his side on a blanket brought from the bungalow, Devlin lifted the pitcher. ‘More?’
Eden presented her goblet. ‘I know the note Tianne left said this doesn’t contain alcohol but doesn’t it taste like a cross between a fruity Cosmopolitan and sarsaparilla?’
‘I’d have said cognac and ginger beer.’
Her brow furrowed—no way. ‘Whatever it is, it’s heavenly.’
She enjoyed a long sip then, setting her goblet aside, laid back, one arm behind her head as she gazed dreamily up at flawless blue visible between the bobbing palm fronds. Unaware of his study of the delicate shape of her brows, the tantalising tilt of her nose, she reached blindly for the plate. Her hand landed on a peach. She took a leisurely bite and chewed before her arm fell like a weight back onto the blanket.
‘I feel too lazy for a swim,’ she murmured.
He craned forward and angled his head to drop a lingering kiss on her inside wrist. ‘You lie there and relax.’
‘What will you do?’
His mouth cruised a little higher. ‘I’ll keep myself entertained.’
‘Does your entertainment include getting me out of this bikini?’
He pressed a meaningful kiss on her shoulder. ‘You’d better believe it.’
Back at the bungalow, when he’d suggested they forgo swimsuits, she’d wound out of his embrace and playfully insisted. Seemed she’d found some perspective and had lowered yesterday’s bravado down a gear. Which was fine by him. Uncontrollable passion had its place, but he’d take ‘slow burn’ to ‘wham-bam’ any day.
What was more, if he’d relented and signed for a room yesterday, she’d have found it too easy to shoot through after the event, which he suspected would’ve been her plan. And that wouldn’t do, either.
Which meant what? he wondered as his attentive gaze slid from her smooth neck along her arm to the peach juice trickling down her fingers, pooling in her palm.
Did he want to continue seeing Eden?
But that wasn’t the question, he countered, skimming his lips over her creamy shoulder again. He hadn’t been the one to call it quits three years ago. The sticking point had been the spectre of a wedding hovering over his head. Given her retort yesterday—the one hurled at Sabrina about not seeing a ring on her finger—pinning down a man was still an issue for Eden.
One day in the distant future he would tie the knot, have a family—but it would need to be with the concrete knowledge that when he said ‘I do’, it would be for ever. He wouldn’t be corralled into that kind of commitment, or lose his head and jump in ahead of time. If nothing else, dear ol’ dad’s ambivalence towards his family had taught his son the pitfalls of that mistake.
Eden set aside her peach and propped up on her elbows to study the crystal-blue lake. They’d thought about visiting the beach and surf, but this inland tropical canopy was a cooler proposition. In a strange way, it was more private too, if that were possible.
She shielded her eyes, her gaze wandered to the left and her face lit up. ‘Look at the amazing patterns on that cliff.’
The craggy face presented a jigsaw of dark crevices carved over the eons. A gentle stream cascaded over the lip, spilling a crystalline veil of water that poured into and became one with the lake.
She joked, ‘Looks like a good challenge for you.’
‘For climbing?’
‘Wanna try?’
‘I’m not in the mood for physical exertion.’
Not that kind, anyway.
She crunched up and hugged her legs, her cheek resting on her knees as she arched an eyebrow at him. ‘Then I’ll have to do it without you.’
About to run his lips down her outside leg, he coughed out, ‘You?’
‘Yeah. Me.’
‘I vote for a splash around that waterfall instead.’
‘We can do both.’
Oh, come on. ‘No way are you interested in scaling slimy rocks.’
She released her knees. ‘I don’t know if I am or not. I’ve never tried. I didn’t think I’d enjoy the plane ride either.’
He blinked twice. Was she for real?
‘If you’re interested,’ he said carefully, ‘I can organise some beginner lessons.’
She sat up straighter. ‘I could have my first lesson here. If I fall I’ll only hit water.’
Unease scuttled over his skin. He didn
’t like that look in her eye. A look that said, You can’t stop me.
‘We don’t know how deep the water is,’ he said, wondering if she’d had one sip of that mysterious nectar too many.
She inspected the cliff, the water, and nodded. ‘Good point.’
No word of warning. She simply sprang up and shallow dived into the water. He’d never seen her move so fast!
By the time he found his feet, she’d freestyled out to the waterfall and plunged into the drink like a duck after its dinner. Legs braced, senses on alert, Devlin waited for her to re-emerge. A few seconds of his pulse thudding at his temples and he strode into water up to his thighs, scanning the surface where she’d disappeared with an eagle eye.
When more time passed, he cursed, filled his lungs and prepared to dive. But then Eden broke the water’s surface as if she’d been shot from a cannon.
Gasping for air, she combed back her hair, then waved and called out, ‘It’s plenty deep enough.’
As relief fell through his centre he scowled more than laughed. ‘I’ll give you deep enough.’
He dived in and, on reaching her, roped an arm around her waist. He side-stroked through the waterfall, grinning at her struggle, which was about as convincing as a rag doll’s. The cool stream cascaded over their heads until they broke through the fall and he plonked Eden’s smarty pants on the moss-covered rock ledge.
While sheets of rushing water curtained off the outside world, the smell of moss and fern lingered within a space that bounced muffled echoes off its concave wall. Snug. A lot like yesterday’s hideaway when the rain had pinned them in. The big difference today was Eden’s disposition, which was buoyant, to say the least.
He shook excess water from his hair, wet-dog style, then, hands on the ledge, pushed up and out of the water to sit beside her.
‘Now,’ he growled, leaning towards her, ‘about that bikini…’
She tipped away. ‘You’ll have to catch me first.’
Flipping over onto all fours, she scrambled off. But he grabbed her bikini bottom before she could escape, his fingers curling into the flimsy back band. Unprepared for her abrupt change in momentum, her top half continued to advance while her lower half got left behind. She fell forward on her belly and the bottoms came down. Shrieking, she flipped over, one hand flying to cover the exposed juncture of her legs.