Tempting Escape

by Heather McVey

  "No.” Shelly wrapped and rewrapped the cord around her fist. “I'll find his plane, it's not as if a lot land here."

  "Okay, look, dear, I have to go. Your father's trying to make an omelet and he's making a right pig's ear of it."

  "Okay, Mum.” Shelly smiled. Her father, poor dear, was terrible in the kitchen.

  "Darling, give him a chance, won't you?"

  Shelly nodded, then realized that she couldn't see her. “I will, Mum, promise."

  "That's my girl. Remember, ten years is a lot to fling away."

  Nine! Shelly wanted to scream at her, it's only nine.

  When her mother hung up, she cradled the receiver, feeling more alone than ever before in her life. When she replaced it, it immediately rang and she gave another small start.

  "Yeah, hello?"

  "Hi, it's Guy. How are you?"

  "Fine.” Shelly's stomach somersaulted. His husky voice could make her drool, even over the telephone line.

  "Are you sure? You don't sound fine."

  Shelly counted to ten. “Yes, I'm sure.” How could he have sensed that she wasn't from a mere word?

  "Hmm, I'm not convinced, but since I've never been one to argue with a lady ... Are we still on for tonight?"

  Shelly swallowed. “Listen, Guy, I can't tonight, something's come up."

  He made a noise indicative of disbelief. “You must be kidding me, right? On an island this size?"

  "I'm sorry, really. I know it's short notice and all.” There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Guy, you still there?"

  "Yeah, I'll be over in ten minutes."

  "What? Wait!” Shelly ground the words out between her clenched teeth, fighting to hang onto her temper. “Heh, I didn't invite you! I have a headache."

  "Nice try. I'll see you in ten, sweetheart."

  Shelly stared at the receiver, a furious frown between her golden brows. The man had hung up on her! She was stunned. She looked at her small wristwatch. Ten minutes, he had said. She jumped up and dived for the bathroom. He annoyed her to no end but she couldn't meet him without tidying her hair and doing her makeup now, could she?

  * * * *

  Guy's heart skipped a beat, his hand raised to knock on Shelly's door. He shook his head and chided himself. He was a grown man and he'd had many women. His friends didn't call him the chick magnet for nothing. So what if Shelly made him feel like a silly youngster, begging for a date with the prom queen? She was just a woman, the same as all the rest, wasn't she? He sighed. Maybe he could get through the evening if he just kept telling himself that.

  Shelly gazed at her reflection in the dressing room mirror. Too much rouge, had she used too much rouge? Definitely, she scrubbed it off. Great, now she looked like she had stuck her face in the microwave for five minutes on high. Why am I even bothering to paint my face? she wondered and clucked her tongue with frustration. She hadn't worn makeup for Ted for, well, as long as she could remember. And she wasn't interested in impressing Guy ... right? Why was she holding a black mascara pencil, then?

  A firm, sure rat-a-tat sounded on the front door. Shelly's heart sank to her feet. It could only be Guy. There was no going back now, she had made her bed and she would just have to lie in it, she supposed. She took a deep steadying breath. “Guy, if that's you, I'll be with you in just a minute. Help yourself to a drink from the mini-bar."

  Guy stepped through the doorway into her bungalow. Although she had only been there for a week, it smelled sweet, like her perfume. She had sounded altogether cool and collected. His heart began to beat rapidly in his chest. Hell! He couldn't remember the last time a date had meant so much to him. Wait a minute. Was he dating? Someone help him, please! A moment later, Shelly entered the room and his body reacted with disturbing warmth to her presence. Can I ever see her without getting an erection? Is that possible? he wondered, and cleared his throat. “You look wonderful."

  "Thanks. Sorry to have kept you waiting,” she apologized.

  "No need.” He grinned. “I got here in eight, instead of ten.” His dick throbbed as he watched her stroll into the room, her movements smooth and graceful. Her strawberry-blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a sexy, just-got-out-of bed style, and her emerald green eyes were big, giving her an innocent look.

  Yet the tiny magenta dress she wore was made for sin, even if her feet were encased in a pair of sensible flip-flops. It hugged her figure, showing off her generous breasts, small waist and curvy hips. Definitely a dress designed to drive a man to his knees. And the perfume she wore, was it Cool Water? Damn!

  Guy's groin tightened and he shifted his position.

  Looked like it was going to be a long night.

  As she stepped closer towards him, he found it impossible to keep his eyes off of her pretty, flushed face ... Or her slim, slender hands, which kept moving from twin perches on her hips to tug nervously at the neckline of her dress. He needed help, and fast! With a quick glimpse down at his crotch and some expert maneuvering in his pocket, he moved his cock to a position where he hoped his bulging hard-on would be less obvious to the woman he so hoped to impress that evening.

  Shelly took a deep breath, praying the right words would come to her. “Shall we?"

  Guy nodded, and placed his drink on the bar. Trying to erase the thoughts of another bar, the breakfast bar, and the steamy going-ons that had happened there, from his rampant mind. Shelly snatched a silk shawl from the back of one of the dining chairs, gave her hair one final glance in the mirror, and headed for the door. Guy dove in front of her to swing it open a fraction of a second ahead of her. Shutting it behind him, he quickly caught up with her to offer her his arm. “Slow down.” He laughed and patted her hand. “I don't bite."

  "Sorry, I'm just hungry, I guess.” No, she wasn't. She was as nervous as hell. The five-minute walk along the beach, filled with sunbathers still in swimming costumes heading back to their all-inclusive hotels for dinner, was the longest in Shelly's life. She fanned her face as she fought the demands of her body, and the oppressive heat.

  She looked up at Guy who even sweated attractively. His damp hair hung in becoming curls around his face, and with those sunglasses on ... ooo, baby!

  Of course, the look was helped by the white shirt that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, and his lean, flat six-pack abs. As she trailed her gaze over his leather pants, she wished he'd opted for a baggier pair. Maybe then she would have been able to keep her eyes off of his willy.

  "What's this?” she asked, needing a diversion, as they came up a moment later on a small fisherman's boat, brightly lit by several lanterns.

  Guy gave a sweeping bow, sounding every bit the classic eighteenth-century gentleman. “Why, madam, that's our transport for the evening."

  "Our transport?” Shelly gazed up at him through the fading dusk. The sky had turned from a pale blue to navy in the blink of an eye. “But I don't understand."

  He took her arm and helped her aboard the small boat called the Sea Princess before she could utter another protest. “Didn't I tell you that the seafood restaurant was on another island?"

  Shelly sat back against the bench he had unceremoniously plunked her on. “No, you forgot to mention that part."

  "I did?” He frowned playfully.

  Shelly's heart fluttered. He looked truly magnificent in his white shirt and leather pants, with the sky behind him awash with reds and oranges in the fading light. But it was more than just the way he looked. Conversely, she had never felt so close to any other man as to Guy. She would miss him come the morrow, when Ted arrived and she would have to let him go. You don't have to, a fierce voice protested. Was it her heart speaking? It didn't matter. Come the morrow, her head, which ruled, would let him go. As for Ted, she had no idea, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

  Guy offered her one of two delicate champagne flutes he held, sat back, and allowed his legs to stretch out under the bench seat. One leg leaned against hers and he made n
o effort to avoid the touch.

  Shelly glanced down to see the shiny leather of his trousers stretched tightly over his muscular thighs. His shirt had opened almost down to his bronzed torso when he sat down. His legs were relaxed and spread wide apart. Shelly, aware of every rustle of his shirt and the heat that seemed to sear her leg from his hard thigh pressing so casually against hers, gulped down half her glass. The dull, bubbly burn of alcohol in her belly was no compensation for the confusing ache in her soul, nor the longing. If only?

  Before she started imagining what else the leather was stretched over; she shifted on the bench to put several inches between their legs. When she looked up, he was smiling, a knowing glint in his eyes. Damn it! He had seen her check him out. A new rush of red rose across her neck to her temples and this time, it had nothing to do with desire.

  Guy shifted in his seat. His leg fell against hers again and her champagne stem shook. He gave her a wicked grin that implied; I saw that. Then turning, he said something to the black Moldavian driver, and a second later, they were off, the boat speeding through the water. Shelly stared out into the sun-drenched evening. Goosebumps pebbled her skin. The splash of the blinding, white spray from the seawater crashing against the boat's bow somehow mesmerized her. The familiar sight, along with the feeling of the wind in her face, brought back countless memories of her childhood. Happy memories spent as a child on the Scottish island of Sky, with her brother, Steven, and sister, Kate. Laughing, until they got tears in their eyes as the wind on the cliff-top froze the breath in their lungs. Some not-so-happy times, but she preferred to think about the ones that were joyous.

  Suddenly, the sun seemed to slip behind the ocean. There was one final brilliant flash of light and then the darkness closed in around them. Shelly looked towards Guy, who seemed to be concentrating very hard on the murky water surrounding the small boat. She blinked her eyes against the bright glare from the lanterns and whispered. “What's wrong?"

  "Do you hear that?"

  Now that he had mentioned it, she could hear quite clearly a sound that sounded like a thousand pebbles falling in the sea. She felt a warning chill climb up her spine. “What is it?"

  Guy caught a worried look in her eyes. He smiled reassuringly. “Don't worry, I think its just some flying fish, doing what they do best."

  Shelly expelled her breath in a huff. “Good. For a moment there, I thought the boat was sinking."

  A quick devilish smile lit up his face. “And you didn't fancy spending the night with a group of grumpy, hungry sharks, right?"

  "Right.” Shelly blinked. When he smiled like that, he was beyond handsome.

  "Care for a top-up?"

  Shelly nodded, screamed and then laughed. “Oh, Guy, look at that, would you? The fish, they're all around us. Look at them jump.” She turned to look at him, only to see that he was staring at her. “What?” she asked, strangely uncomfortable.

  "Nothing. You just look so ... I don't know. With that happy glow in your eyes and your little pixie face, you just look so right."

  As the fish continued to jump and dance behind her, she asked, “Right for what?"

  Guy wanted to say that she looked right for him, but he couldn't find the words to put it in context, so he just shrugged and murmured foolishly, “I don't know."

  "Careful,” she giggled merrily. “Or you'll have me believing the champagne has gone to your head."

  Guy looked away. It wasn't the champagne that had gone straight to his head, it was her; she had gone straight to his heart. He watched her, the way her small hands clung to the edge of the boat. Her large green eyes looked brighter than ever in the lamplight, blinking back tears at the beauty that enfolded in front of her. He was falling fast, and he couldn't see any way of rescuing himself.

  "I didn't think flying fish were red.” Shelly sighed, as she intently watched the fish splashing around the boat. “They're so beautiful, aren't they?"

  Guy gulped. He thought something to be beautiful, but it certainly wasn't the fish. He had to fight the urge not to kiss her, to wrap his arms around her body and press every curve, every inch of her against him.

  "What?” A frown quickly replaced her smile.

  Guy slid his eyes away from her. “Nothing."

  Shelly, sensing his discomfort, kept her mouth closed. The atmosphere was tense, as if a message tried to write itself in the air that divided them.

  Guy sighed, wondering yet again what made mankind tick. “Well?” he asked, sounding for the entire world like some prim schoolteacher in his fifties. “Care for that top-up now?"

  Shelly, suddenly relieved, nodded and bit her lip pensively

  * * * *

  Twenty minutes later, the bottom of the boat scraped with a bump against the sandy seabed.

  Shelly, eager to put some space between them, asked, “Are we here?"

  Guy pushed a lock of hair off his forehead and nodded.

  Shelly clamped her lips shut. He looked gorgeous when he did that. She shook her head and looked around. “But where's the restaurant?"

  "All will be revealed.” He leaned down and caught her bottom lip between his teeth, then gently stroked her lip with his tongue.

  Her head swam from the achingly tender embrace.

  He deepened the kiss an instant before releasing her and sitting back.

  "You had a drop of champagne on your bottom lip,” he explained with a devilish smile that displayed his dimples to perfection.

  Shelly blinked and laughed nervously. “You could have just said something."

  "True, but my way was far more fun."

  Shelly couldn't argue with that.

  She watched as he rolled up his trousers and jumped into the ankle-deep water. She caught a whiff of cologne and sweat, rough masculine scents that should have been distasteful. She found the combination oddly exciting.

  Guy placed his hands on his hips and regarded her. “Well, come on then."

  "Come on where?” She frowned down at him.

  He grinned and scooped her up in his arms as if she didn't weigh a thing. “You ask too many questions, woman."

  "You're mad.” She laughed.

  He looked down at her, his blue eyes unbelievably dark orbs in the dim light. “What? Do you want to wade to the island?"

  Shelly shook her head and hoped that it really was dark in the lamplight. His touch had brought gentle color flooding to her face. Worse, she regretted not wearing a bra; her nipples were poking against the thin fabric of her dress like a pair of pointed cylinders.

  "I thought as much.” His enticingly warm chuckle vibrated through every bone in her body, causing warm shivers to race along her spine.

  When they reached dry land, Shelly turned away and looked along the beach. At that moment, the moon came out from behind a cloud. It glinted off the sea and made the sand sparkle, as if a million diamonds were sprinkled within it. When she turned back, the brightly-lit boat was disappearing through the darkness. She ran to the shoreline, waving her arms frantically in the air, calling the little boat that was now nothing more than a single small dot in the darkness.

  "Relax, honey.” Guy took her shoulder and started to lead her forward. “Rene has a wife and children at home. He will be back for us in a couple hours."

  "What if he doesn't come back?"

  "He will."

  His answer annoyed Shelly. It was bad enough being marooned on an island for an hour or two with the man, she didn't think she could last the night. She turned around quickly, refusing to budge another inch until she got some answers.

  "How can you be so sure of that?"

  Guy said, “I'm sure, because he owes me a favor."

  Shelly eyed him skeptically. “What sort of favor?"

  "A medical one. God, you're a nosy little thing. Or could it be that you don't relish the thought of spending the night alone with me?” His eyebrows jerked up and down suggestively.

  He had hit the mark. Shelly closed her eyes but acknowledged nothing.


  Guy advised her to wait. Shelly watched the gloom swallow him up and ever-impatient, she followed him a moment later. She rounded the corner just in time to watch him place a light to what must have been the thirtieth candle. In the centre of which sat a large blanket, with cushions and such a delectable assortment of food, her mouth began to water. Her breath clogged in her throat as she watched him. He had gone to such a monumental effort to impress her. He made her feel special and she couldn't remember anyone having made her feel that way in a long time.

  He looked up, the boyish grin that she loved so well on his face. “Hey, you've ruined the surprise!"

  "It's beautiful anyway,” Shelly breathed, meaning it.

  Watching the candlelight play off his sculpted face, she was quite certain that she'd never seen a more handsome man. She doubted that even Michelangelo's David could have looked better.

  For the next two minutes, Guy felt incapable of speech. She was beautiful. The candlelight glinted off the fine contours of her face and pushed shadows beneath her huge eyes, which reappeared and disappeared in the flickering light. Never had another woman elicited such a heated response from him. But when it came to Shelly, all he could think of was taking her into his arms and riding her until it hurt.

  "Shit!” he cursed, and sucked at his fingers. The pain sobered him. He'd been so wrapped up with her that the match had burned down to the tip.

  Shelly laughed. “Just don't set the blanket on fire, okay?"

  He gave her a playful leer. “Right ... rule number one when dating a woman, don't burn the blanket, but fingers are perfectly okay."

  "We're not dating."

  "What would you call this then?"

  Shelly opened her mouth to respond to his question, then stopped. How could she best answer him without causing insult?

  His eyes flared. “Well?"

  Shelly hesitated, feeling awkward. “We're just two friends, enjoying a meal."

  Friends! There was that word again. God, how he hated it. “I still think this is a date."

  "You do, I don't. Do you think we can ever agree on anything?"