by Sandra Field
He could change his mind. Hightail it back down the dock and bury his nose in his book. Peacefully, all by himself.
He didn’t like backing down from anyone, least of all a woman.
Then his mind was made up for him. “Mornin’, Mr. Talbot, sir,” said the guide, a grin splitting his face. “You comin’ with us this fine day?”
“Good morning,” Seth said. “Yeah, thought I would.”
In utter dismay Lia swiveled to face him. Seth Talbot was the last man she wanted to see this morning. He had cost her a very expensive dinner last night in the Reef Room, and he’d haunted her sleep. When Conway had brought his name up over breakfast, she’d changed the subject with a singular lack of grace. And now Seth was sauntering down the dock at the last minute to join an expedition she’d been very much looking forward to. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?
She said sarcastically, “What an unexpected pleasure.”
“For both of us,” he replied, mockery sparking his green eyes.
“Surely you exaggerate.”
The guide said amiably, “If you’re both ready, we’ll get going.”
Although Lia could have jumped out of the boat and run for her life up the dock, a healthy dose of stubbornness was one of the attributes that had brought her success in a highly competitive field. “Hurry up, Seth,” she said tightly, and watched him step into the dinghy, settling himself beside her on the thwart.
He was wearing a thin white T-shirt over lightweight shorts that doubled as swim trunks. His forearms were strongly muscled, his hands resting easily on his thighs…had she ever forgotten those long, lean fingers, the way they’d played her body as sensitively as any musician’s? Like a lightning bolt, desire slammed through her and unconsciously Lia’s body swayed toward him. Betraying her, just as he’d betrayed her so long ago.
No, she thought frantically. Not again.
Appalled, she straightened on the seat, holding herself rigid as the boat chugged away from the dock. The bow slapped the waves, the foam an effervescent white shot through with blue. Beautiful, she thought, trying with all her might to focus on anything other than the man sitting so close to her.
The small outboard motor was noisy, so at least she didn’t have to talk to him.
All too soon, they reached the reef. The guide cut the motor. “Anyplace around here is good. We ask you not to touch the corals, it damages them, and some of them are poisonous.” He gave another big grin. “I’ll just sit here and wait for you…we got all the time in the world.”
Lia bent to fasten her fins. Then, feeling absurdly self-conscious, she took off her white top. Her turquoise maillot, sleek-fitting, was low-cut front and back, and high-cut over her hips. She should be wearing a nun’s habit, she thought irritably, not a swimsuit that exposed far more of her than it covered.
In spite of herself, she glanced over at Seth. His eyes were riveted on her, such raw hunger in them that she flinched away from him. So he felt it, too. After eight long years of silence, he still wanted her.
Her. Not her child.
Her temper flared to life, gloriously reviving. She’d been his victim years ago, when he hadn’t answered her letters. But she didn’t have to be anyone’s victim right this minute. She was going to make him suffer. Unwise of her, no doubt, but understandable under the circumstances. She tossed her shirt across the forward thwart and leaned across him to get her mask, thereby giving him an unobstructed view of her cleavage. As she picked up the mask, she deliberately let her thigh brush his.
With a bland smile she watched him jolt on the seat, his jaw tightening, desire smoldering in those incredibly green eyes that Marise had inherited. Too bad, Seth Talbot, she thought meanly. There’s not a hope in hell that I’ll ever let you touch me again.
She said lightly, “Enjoy.” After tucking her sunhat under her shirt on the thwart, Lia swung her legs over the edge of the dinghy and slipped into the sea. She rinsed her mask with water, fitted it over her face and swam away from the boat. Facedown, she was instantly transported to another world, where tiny fish flashed yellow, purple and black through a lacy network of indolently swaying coral.
Her heartbeat slowly settled back to normal, her anger subsiding. She shouldn’t have thrust herself so blatantly at Seth when she had no intention of coming across. It had been crude of her. Crude and potentially dangerous.
But, she thought with a small smile, very satisfying.
Then she did her level best to put him out of her mind. He wasn’t worth it. Nor was she going to allow him to ruin her precious and hard-earned holiday.
Seth had waited a couple of minutes before leaving the dinghy. He kept his T-shirt on, mostly because he couldn’t stand advertising the wide strip of white plaster over his ribs. Bad enough to have stepped in the way of a stray bullet, without having to talk about it. Especially to the likes of Lia d’Angeli.
Who’d read his flare of lust like an open book and thrust her breasts practically in his face.
With an entirely predictable response on his part, he thought savagely, not sure whether he was angrier with her for arousing him or with himself for responding like a hormone-ridden adolescent. Calling on all his self-control, he made light conversation with the guide, whose name was John, while he adjusted his fins and rinsed his mask over the gunwale. Only then did he lower himself into the sea.
He let himself sink, as always struck by the myriad, sun-shot hues of the sea. Favoring his ribs, he began to swim, the silky warmth of the water laving his body.
He needed a woman. That’s what he needed. Just as long as her name wasn’t Lia.
As he surfaced to breathe, he caught sight of her snorkel not that far ahead of him. He should head in the opposite direction, he thought, and knew he wasn’t going to. Smoothly he took off in pursuit. When he was a few feet behind her, he sank again, watching her through the wavering currents of the tide. She was swimming steadily along the reef, her body lissome as a mermaid in her turquoise suit, her masked face giving her an alluring aura of mystery.
A turquoise suit. A mask.
Seth’s eyes widened behind his own mask. His jaw dropped so that he inadvertently swallowed a mouthful of salt water. He surged to the surface, coughing and spluttering. He had to be wrong. His imagination was working overtime.
Lia d’Angeli his mysterious butterfly lover? Lia as the woman at the ball in her shimmering turquoise bodysuit and her all-concealing mask?
He was out of his mind to even think it. Get a life, Seth. So you’ve never really forgotten her. So, subliminally, you know she ruined you for any other woman. So what?
You’re letting a turquoise maillot and a snorkeling mask play tricks on you. Because you never really let her go.
He’d never admitted this to himself before. Seth cursed out loud. Which did he hate more, the fierce stab of hope that he’d found her again, or the swirling terror that he was wrong? He took a deep breath, filling his lungs, and again sank below the surface. The slow, graceful finning of her legs, the long arc of hip, waist and breast…had he ever forgotten them? Her face he’d never seen. But her body was unmistakable.
He should have recognized her the first moment he’d laid eyes on her in the foyer of the restaurant last night.
Again Seth rose to the surface, and this time conviction rose with him, hope replaced by certainty. The woman in Paris and the woman he’d met last night at the resort were one and the same. He’d found her. After eight years, he’d found her; and her name was Lia d’Angeli.
His first reaction was joy. Joy of a depth and intensity that was extraordinarily rare in his life.
But then, belatedly, Seth’s brain started to work. Lia hadn’t wanted to be found. She’d known his name from the beginning, and could have tracked him down anytime in the intervening years. Meeting him last night hadn’t been her choice, he was sure of that. She’d been, to put it mildly, horrified and antagonistic. Not to mention enraged.
Why? What had he done? She
was the one who’d disappeared. And he was damn well going to find out why.
He swam away from her, his movements choppy and uncoordinated. He felt as though he’d banged his head hard on the reef; or as though the bullet had hit a vital organ. But through the confusion of emotion in his chest he did know one thing. He wasn’t going to have a shouting match with her while he was treading water within earshot of John the guide. No, the confrontation would keep. After eight years, another hour meant nothing.
Forty minutes later, Seth saw Lia heading for the dinghy. He got there first, trying to disguise how much it hurt to lever himself over the gunwales. When she reached the side of the boat, he held out his hand. “Let me help you,” he said.
She yanked off her mask, throwing it over the gunwale, refusing to meet his eyes. The sunlight on her jaw…why had he taken so long to recognize her? It was all there. The slender line of her throat, the delicacy of her bones: he’d been an idiot not to have known who she was yesterday evening.
The instant he’d seen her, he’d lusted after her. That, too, had been a clue he’d ignored.
She said in a clipped voice, “I can manage.”
“I’m sure you can. Grab my hand.”
She could make a scene. Or she could do as he asked. With bad grace Lia took his hand, the strength in his fingers making her shiver with a mixture of panic and passionate longing. He lifted her as if she were weightless. When she’d gotten her footing in the boat, she tugged her hand free. “Thanks,” she said grudgingly.
“No problem.”
Scowling, she jammed her sunhat on her wet hair and threw the white shirt over her shoulders. She was going to need every one of the spa’s ministrations to get rid of the tension that right now was tightening her muscles and seething along her nerves. Trying to gather her wits, she gave John the smile she hadn’t given Seth, and said warmly, “That was wonderful, thanks so much for bringing us out here.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
He pulled the cord and the boat swirled in a circle to head back to shore. The scene was like a picture postcard, from the tall palms to the white sand ruffled by waves. Her shirt flattened to her body, Lia gripped the thwart and knew that the minute the boat docked she was going to run for her cottage, go inside and lock the door.
As the dinghy nudged the dock, Seth uncoiled a rope and tied it to the bollard. Picking up his gear, he stepped out. Lia followed suit, clutching her fins to her chest like a shield as she said goodbye to John. She then started marching down the dock, the wood hot under her bare feet. Seth seized her by the elbow. “Slow down…we have to talk.”
She whirled, trying to pull free. “We don’t have to do anything—go away and leave me alone. Or I’ll complain to the management.”
He said flatly, “We’re not going to have a fight in full view of the resort. You’ve got two choices. You can walk to your cottage and we’ll talk there. Or I can pick you up and carry you.”
“That kind of behavior went out with the Neanderthals…you’re kind of slow to get the message.”
His answer was to swing her up into his arms and stride off the dock straight for her cottage. He grated, “You have a reputation for privacy. So, as it happens, do I. Let’s hope no one’s watching us right now.”
Years ago he’d picked her up and carried her out on a balcony where the lights of Paris had twinkled and shone. Fighting against memories whose potency had never really subsided, as well as the all-too-present potency of steel-strong arms and a taut, warm shoulder, Lia struck out at him with her elbow.
A flash of pure agony crossed his face. “Don’t! I’ve got sore ribs.”
“If you can’t take the heat, don’t go out in the sun,” she snapped. She sure wasn’t going to apologize; even though he was white about the mouth.
What had happened to his ribs?
What did she care?
He was marching toward her cottage, with its thick screen of bougainvillea and hibiscus. Too much privacy, Lia thought frantically. Privacy plus Seth Talbot equaled danger. “Put me down,” she seethed, wriggling in his arms.
His hold tightened. “Where’s your key?”
“If you think I’m letting you inside my cottage, you’ve got the wrong woman.”
“No, I haven’t.” On impulse—because where in that skintight swimsuit could she possibly have hidden a key?—Seth tried her door, finding it unlocked. He shoved it open and plunked her down on the smoothly polished floor. “If it’ll make you feel better, we’ll leave the door wide-open. Okay, Lia d’Angeli, let’s cut to the chase. I know who you are. You’re the woman I went to bed with in Paris eight years ago—I’ve finally figured it out.”
Rage almost choked her. “You’ve known all along who I was!”
“What the hell do you mean? You never gave me your name and you sneaked out in the middle of the night while I was asleep. For the better part of two weeks I had investigators turning over every cobblestone in Paris. Not a trace. You even used a false name when you rented your costume, for Pete’s sake. You didn’t want to be found—and now you accuse me of knowing who you were? Don’t make me laugh.”
He looked as far from laughter as a man could. “I used a false name because I wanted to be anonymous,” she blazed. “I’d just won the two top European prizes, and the press was falling all over me—I wasn’t just talented, I was also beautiful, sexy, voluptuous, you name it. They were having a field day and all I wanted to do was get away for a few hours. So, yes, I covered my tracks that night and I did leave in the middle of the night. But—”
“You could have gotten in touch with me later—or did that night mean so little to you?” He took her by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. “Forgettable sex—that’s all it was for you?”
“I did!”
“Did what?” he snarled.
“I wrote you two letters,” she said, biting off each word. “And now you dare pretend that you didn’t get them?”
“When?”
Briefly she hesitated. His anger was so convincing, so powerful. What if there was a one in a million chance both letters had gone astray? What then? If she said two months later, wouldn’t he twig to her pregnancy? Overriding all her other concerns was the certainty that she had to keep her beloved Marise out of the picture. “Not that long afterward,” she said evasively and saw his eyes darken with suspicion.
“You’re lying.”
“I am not! I sent one to your headquarters in Manhattan, and the other to the Hamptons—I got the address off your Web site.”
“That’s my parents’ place,” Seth said, thinking furiously. “If you did write to me—and I’m far from convinced—what were the letters about?”
She said steadily, looking right at him, “I just wanted to stay in touch. That’s all. But you never bothered answering. As we both know.”
“It’s pretty hard to answer a letter you never got,” Seth said sarcastically.
“Why do you think I was so rude to you last night in the lobby? Delighted to meet you, you said. Then you had the gall to add, I can’t imagine how I’ve offended you. As though we’d never made mad, passionate love for hours at a time in that ritzy hotel. It isn’t me who’s forgotten all that sex, it’s you.”
He pounced. “So you haven’t forgotten?”
She bit her lip. As usual when she was in a temper, her tongue was running away with her. “When you didn’t do me the common courtesy of acknowledging my letters, I forgot about you in a hurry,” she said, with absolutely no regard for the truth.
He said furiously, “One letter going astray I could understand. But two?”
“That’s why I know you got them. Or, at the very least, one of them.”
“So now you’re accusing me of lying?”
“You’re such a smart man,” she said mockingly.
He thrust her away from him, prowling around the room. A yellow sweater was thrown over one of the bamboo chairs. A closed laptop computer rested on the te
ak table, while a music stand had been set up by the window with its magnificent view of the ocean. “How long are you staying?” he demanded.
Her nerves had tightened to an unbearable pitch. She’d left her bedroom door ajar; on the bureau was her favorite photo of Marise. Her daughter, and his. “I could ask you the same question.”
“I leave in three days. What about you?”
“It’s none of your business,” she said coldly, keeping to herself the fact that she’d have only a day left of her holiday after he’d gone. “We have nothing to say to each other. You think I’m a liar, and I know you’re one. Yes, we shared something many years ago. But it’s over and done with and we’ve both moved on.”
“Speak for yourself,” he said softly, taking two swift steps toward her.
“Do you honestly think I could ever trust you again?” she cried. “I took the risk of getting in touch with you, and you chose to ignore me. Now you’re paying the consequences. Grow up, Seth.”
“Once I get home, I’m going to find out what happened to those two letters. Assuming you wrote them.”
“It’s too late to check your wastebasket.”
His green eyes blazing with anger, Seth put his arms hard around her and dropped his mouth to hers in a kiss that was an impressive mix of rage and lust. Lia dug her fingers into his nape and kissed him back.
Fiercely she welcomed the first thrust of his tongue, greedy for more. Her hat tumbled to the floor. Her hands probed his damp hair, the taut line of his throat, the bump and curve of bone under his wet T-shirt, memory flooding her and casting aside caution.
Her response shot through Seth’s body. He dragged the shirt from her shoulders, flinging it to the floor, then tugging the straps of her swimsuit down her arms. His mouth plummeted to find the sweet, bare curve of her breast. Her skin tasted of salt and sunlight, her nipple tight as coral. She gasped his name, throwing her head back, her heartbeat racing beneath his cheek.