‘When the guy’s partly to blame for my storming onto the beach earlier and making a complete fool of myself in front of you, it is.’
She frowned up at him. ‘You didn’t make a complete fool of yourself.’
‘A partial one then.’
She gave a soft laugh and shook her head. ‘Now that I think on it properly, it’s really quite sweet that you thought Nalu was in trouble and jumped in to help him.’
‘You do?’
She gave him a nod. ‘And now that you know how to spot a rip current and how to deal with them you can keep yourself safe too, but maybe next time leave it to the lifeguard.’
‘Maybe I should just take you with me everywhere, then I wouldn’t need to worry.’
What the hell, Todd?
He felt his own eyes widen over his impulsive response, watched hers flash in tune as her cheeks coloured. And then she gave a breathless, ‘Maybe,’ and his good sense to take it back left him.
The auction was underway behind him, the band hurrying back and forth past them with their instruments and equipment, but he was barely aware of any of it, only her eyes locked on his and the strange connection that seemed determined to pull them together. It had existed on the beach and now here, it was undeniable.
It’s not like he’d lived the life of a monk all these years. He’d tried dating, tried relationships of a sort. But they never lasted long. He couldn’t share his life with another, couldn’t give them what they needed to stick around, and he hadn’t mourned their loss when they’d eventually given up and moved on. It was to be expected. It was what he expected because he was incapable of loving another. He couldn’t risk what his father had suffered after his mother had died giving birth to him.
Love had the power to destroy a man.
It was fickle and weak, too. Foster homes had taught him that.
Love couldn’t be trusted.
Love was a frustration. The only person he truly loved was his father and the guy was driving him nigh on insane with his refusal to accept financial help.
And his mind was wandering down a crazy path that had no place in the here and now. What was wrong with him?
‘If the idea makes you frown like that,’ she suddenly said, ‘are you sure you don’t want to retract your bid and run away right now?’
He forced a smile, at least, he forced it to begin with, but looking into her eyes he didn’t need to force anything. She made him feel it.
‘Believe me, that has nothing to do with the prospect of time with you and everything to do with Mr Masters.’
‘You want to talk about it?’ The question looked like it surprised her as much as it did him. Did he want to talk about it? He never spoke to anyone about personal stuff. He’d stopped doing that long ago after one too many case-worker interviews that were getting him nowhere. But did he want to now, with her? It seemed so easy. Too easy to say yes and it’s that which had him opting for diversion.
‘How about a dance?’ And he didn’t dance. Ever.
She looked past him to the crowd, to the band. ‘Won’t people talk if you’re spied dancing with your surf instructor?’
‘I think they’ll see it as me taking an active role in the evening.’
‘Like your bid?’
‘Sure, like my bid.’
She shook her head and took a long sip of her drink, her cherry-red lips smiling around the straw.
‘You don’t strike me as the kind to worry about a little gossip.’ She didn’t. She seemed carefree, easy, unless she was rollicking someone for their stupidity in the water.
‘OK, Todd, a dance it is.’ She placed her drink down on the table nearest to them and sauntered past him, looking back over her shoulder. ‘But no funny business, you hear, or me not being gentle on a surfboard will be the least of your worries.’
He laughed. Again, with the laughter. What was it about her that had him behaving, no – feeling, so different?
He didn’t know the answer. And for once, he didn’t need to know.
He was happy to go with the flow.
‘You need to lighten up.’ Malie stifled another giggle, her body moving effortlessly to the music as she maintained eye contact with Todd. She didn’t dare look any lower, it would only set her off and she didn’t make a habit of laughing at people. But his stiff corpse-like swing was killing her.
‘Lighten up?’ he said over the music, leaning in so that she could hear. It didn’t stop him clicking his fingers off beat or doing his little sidestep that was as rigid as a soldier on sentry duty.
He really didn’t dance often, or if he did, no one had been kind enough to point out his… er, unique style.
When he’d asked her to dance, she’d assumed he was a bit of a closet clubber, not a jagged puppet. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t stand out so much. But his six-foot-plus of presence drew every eye in the room and it was a crime to have his ripped physique so tight when the music was so fluid, fun, easy.
‘Do you dance much?’
He shook his head, his eyes dancing in the fairy lights. ‘Not if I can help it.’
She grinned wide, caught on the amusement she could read in his gaze. She liked that he could laugh at himself too. ‘That explains it, then.’
‘That bad, hey?’
She nodded, softening her confirmation by placing her hand on his arm as she leaned in. ‘You dance like you have a stick up your backside.’
She’d intended to pull back but as he raised his brow to look at her, so close, only a foot separating their faces, but found she couldn’t. His cologne filled the air that she breathed, spicy and all masculine, his arm beneath her fingers was taut and warm, his eyes flicked to her lips, their intent as easy to read as her own.
Remember where you are.
Remember who he is.
This is not Ibiza, or some club you can just hook up in.
She flexed her fingers, then became immobilized by the conflicting urges to back away and close the distance.
‘A stick, you say?’ His voice rasped like it had on the beach, or did she just imagine it? Was she hoping he was as wrapped up in the sudden proximity as she was?
‘Yes.’
‘Do you always say it how it is?’
‘Pretty much.’
But she wasn’t about to say anything on their underlying chemistry. She knew attraction, the power of the pull when it was reciprocated and it was there, between them. And never had a guy been more off limits to her than Todd Masters. He was invaluable to her plans for the surf school, she wouldn’t muddy the waters for a fling that could only be just that, a fling. She wouldn’t.
She broke away, forcing her focus on the music, the rippling beat that had her hips gyrating as she twirled on the spot, all the while she felt his eyes follow her. She wasn’t intentionally teasing him, she moved on impulse driven by the music, like she did with the sea and her board. And he needed to get a sense of that too if he was going to stand a chance at surfing.
But he wasn’t even trying to dance now as he watched her, his grin and the shake of his head looking more awestruck than anything else. ‘I envy you.’
She frowned a little as she kept time with the music. ‘You do?’
‘Your ability to say what you want, dance how you want, to just let go.’
‘Well, I hate to tell you this, but you’re going to need to learn to do it too.’
‘I am?’
‘Unless you want to take a pounding in the waves…’ He folded his arms across his chest and she danced around him, using her body for emphasis as she explained, ‘You need to loosen up, to flex your body as the sea dictates, to move with it. Just like you should ease your body into the music now.’
‘Ease my body into the music…?’ He sounded less than convinced.
‘Uh-huh.’ She had ways to get him to loosen up – if he’d been anyone else, she’d have her hands on him now, teasing him into the rhythm, but each time she touched him, she wanted more.
Words. Words would do. She was an instructor after all. She used words every day.
‘Try widening your stance…’ He did as she bade. ‘A little more… try shoulder-width… better, it gives your hips more freedom to move.’
He laughed but did exactly as she asked.
‘Now bend your knees a little, keep them soft as you shift your weight from one foot to the other, letting your hips flow naturally.’
‘Like this…’ He tried left to right, but completely out of time and it baffled her that he could do it, defy the music. To her it came so naturally, the beat, the move, the beat, the move…
‘Kind of… but listen to the music, to the rhythm, let it dictate your tempo… not so harsh, flow with it.’
She was watching him and trying not to laugh again. He was trying, he really was; his look of concentration was what she’d expect from him in a boardroom a million miles from where they were now. It softened her to the core. The millionaire businessman trying to learn to dance, to do what she dictated. But all the while his arms were rigid across his chest –
it didn’t matter how much his hips moved, those arms were going nowhere.
‘You’re doing this on purpose, right?’ she said eventually.
‘Doing what?’
She shook her head and waved a hand in front of her face to hide her giggle. ‘Nothing. Nothing.’
He stopped altogether. ‘I don’t think my ego can cope with your company much longer.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to… it’s just…’ It’s just – what? She hadn’t danced with anyone so stiff before? She hadn’t danced with anyone she wanted to kiss more before and couldn’t? That was hardly his fault. And she was hardly being fair. With anyone else she’d simply take a hold of his hips and move him into the movement.
And the truth was, she was going to have to get her hands on him at some point if they were to have five whole surf lessons together. She’d never taught anyone without physically moving them several times over.
No, the sooner she got used to defying the attraction the better.
‘Come here.’
‘Come here?’ He stilled, his eyes wide and dancing with his own laughter now. ‘Are you ordering me about, Ms Pukui?’
The way her name sounded in his London accent shouldn’t have sent her belly erupting with tiny flutters, but it did.
‘Are you going to disobey me?’ she pushed, openly shaking off the sensation and fighting back.
‘I wouldn’t dare.’ He stepped towards her and she held her ground, readying herself for the sensation she knew was coming, every nerve-ending alert to his approach.
‘Good,’ she said, lowering her eyes to his chest. She couldn’t stare up at his eyes this close, not now she knew how blue they were, how they danced with his amusement, or burned with reciprocated awareness or just looked at her.
She eased one hand onto his hip, the other onto his chest, over his heart and took a small breath.
‘You need to get used to it anyway,’ she said, ‘there’ll be a lot of doing as I say during your ridiculously expensive twenty-thousand-dollar training.’
‘You saying I’m going to get more stick per buck?’
She smiled at his chest. ‘Precisely.’
He gave a groan that she felt rumble through her fingers and she closed her eyes briefly.
Just dance, Malie, concentrate on the music.
‘Enough talk,’ she said, and then she bit the bullet further to say, ‘Put your hands on my hips and feel how I move.’
She saw his Adam’s apple bob before her, his jaw held tight, as he moved to do as she asked. Was he finding this as hard as her? As hard and yet…
His fingers closed around her hips, their warmth seeping through the delicate fabric of her dress and triggering a rush of warmth that far exceeded their gentle pressure. She tried to breathe through it, tried to stay fixed on the pulse beating in his steadfast jaw as she focused on the music, the rhythm urging her to move. She didn’t want to dwell on just how perfect, just how thrilling his touch, his proximity was, or the fact she could feel his breath brush over her hair, his scent—
‘Now feel how I move and move with me…’ her voice rose above her heightened senses, ‘like this.’
She eased his hips with her fingers, nudged his stance wider with her foot and felt his eyes upon her head as he concentrated and mimicked her. And he did. He really did.
‘Better already – do you feel that?’
His answer was another rumble in his chest, a more confident sweep of his hips. She strummed her fingers over his chest, over his heart.
‘Feel the beat,’ she whispered, not knowing whether he heard her or not. She was losing herself in the music, the feel of his body moving beneath her touch, moving with her, heady, intoxicating.
She found her hand softening against his hip, less guiding as he did it under his own steam. She could – should – let go but even as she thought it, their bodies eased closer together, the music and something far more visceral wrapping around them.
‘You’re a good teacher,’ he said against her hair.
‘And you’re a good pupil.’ Her eyes lifted before she could stop them and collided with the dark intensity of his own. She felt his fingers pulse around her hips, her own breath catching as her breasts brushed against his chest.
Just keep dancing.
Remember: Student. Teacher; Student. Teacher; Successful Businessman. Surf Teacher; Philanthropist,. Big-Hearted Charity Do-er; You. Do. Not. Mix.
‘Fancy taking a walk on the beach?’
His question broke through her internal mantra, shocking and effective in equal measure.
No, Malie. You don’t fancy going anywhere that private, at this time of night, with him.
She bit into her lip, killing off the impulsive yes, the impulsive no.
She used to know her own mind.
But with Todd, it seemed her mind was lost beneath a multitude of other, far more gratifying sensations.
‘I’d love to tell you more about the Foundation and the work we do, the kids you’ll be teaching…’
She felt her cheeks flush. Again. Lils would so love this reversal in her composure which had her suffering the same affliction as her beloved friend. Malie really didn’t.
Seriously, there she was getting carried away with the idea that the super successful, intelligent and sexy beyond measure hunk with his hands on her hips was as caught up as she was in this magnetic attraction, when really all he wanted to do was talk about her passion. Their passion. Something they shared.
‘Of course.’ She stepped back abruptly, hating how high-pitched her voice sounded.
She distracted herself by brushing down her dress, keeping her tingling palms busy. It wasn’t enough. They were still so warm, so fuzzy, from him. She tried to snap out of it by seeking out her drink and grabbing it up. Using the sweet, cold alcohol to drown her embarrassment and loosen up her dry mouth.
‘I’ll get you a fresh one.’
She was about to say there’s no need, but he was off weaving through the crowd to hunt down a member of the serving staff.
At least it gave her time to cool off and get her head straight.
At least she hadn’t outright kissed him.
At least she didn’t have that to worry about.
To remember.
To dream.
Her fingers went to her lips that thrummed at the thought of it alone and she shook her head.
There’ll be no dreaming, no kissing, no anything.
Talking. Walking. Surfing. Working.
A perfect list of -ings to stick to… and she could do that.
Surely, she could?
Chapter Four
IF HE COULD REWIND time by mere minutes he would. To take back his idea of a walk and not witness the look of alarm that had crossed her features. Not to mention his own panic. What the hell had he been thinking?
Truth was he hadn’t been thinking at all. He�
�d been so caught up in the moment, so convinced that she’d wanted to kiss him as much as he did her, that the only thing separating them had been the crowd and he’d wanted them all gone. He’d wanted it to be just the two of them so he could satisfy this incessant need to stay close to her, and closer still.
But it was foolish, reckless even, and it wasn’t like him.
Maybe the beauty of the island and the sea air was going to his head. Maybe his phone call with his father had done more damage than just the suffocating helplessness he had become accustomed to.
He’d quickly tried to rescue the situation by using the charity work as an excuse and escaped so fast under the pretence of getting drinks when really what he wanted was time to acclimatize to her appeal. Time to regain his control so that he could approach their walk on far more solid ground and make it all about the charity and not this irresistible pull he felt towards her.
He caught a passing waitress and took up two glasses, then debated putting his glass back – he didn’t need alcohol to lower his inhibitions any further, he was already being tested to the limit by Malie’s unique charm. But then it didn’t seem right only returning with one. So, two it was.
Shaking his head at his own uncertainty, he turned to retrace his steps. All he needed was to be his usual, normal self. He never let his countenance slip. He never let the physical override the mental.
He lifted his gaze, seeking her out, and there she stood waiting for him. Her beauty, her smile… his stomach flipped like he’d gone over a hump in the road. He knew he was in trouble, yet he kept on walking. They had people to help and, together, there was so much good to be done. He wouldn’t jeopardize any of that for whatever temporary affliction this was.
‘Here.’ He proffered a glass and she took it with a smile, her lips surrounding the pineapple-adorned straw as she took a sip.
‘You like it, then?’ He gestured to the glass. ‘The Fun For All cocktail?’
‘It looks…’ she took another sip, ‘and tastes remarkably like a Tequila Sunrise.’
He laughed. ‘Close, it’s a Tequila Sunrise with a fun twist.’
Her smile warmed him through. ‘You going to tell me what the twist is?’
Meet Me in Hawaii Page 4