by Julia James
Wonder, joy and gladness filled her to the brim.
* * *
‘There are no walls!’ Ellen exclaimed as they walked into the room. It was situated in one of the cabanas that had already been constructed, at one end of the resort, and was cantilevered over a low, rocky bluff that jutted right out over a sheltered bay on the tiny islet.
‘Just mosquito nets,’ agreed Max. He strolled up to the missing outer wall, where an area of decking gave some outside space to meld interior and exterior seamlessly. ‘Like it?’ he asked as Ellen walked up to join him, resting her hands on the balustrade above the tumbling rocks.
A little wooden staircase to their left led down to the white sand beach a few metres below. An azure sea lapped lazily, beckoning to her with seductive allure.
She twisted her head to look at him. Made a face. ‘Oh, no, it’s awful—honestly, how could you bring me to such a place? I mean, there isn’t a nightclub for miles, and there’s no gourmet restaurant with a signature chef, and, I mean, there isn’t even a wall, for heaven’s sake!’
In the hours it had taken them to arrive here the very last remnants of her shyness and uncertainty in his company had vanished. Gone completely. Now she was at ease with him, daring to laugh with him, be confident with him, to tease him as she was doing now.
He kissed her to silence her and they both laughed into the kiss, and then Max tightened his hold and deepened his kiss. ‘There is, however,’ he told her, ‘a bed—a very large, king-sized bed—and the mattress is very, very high spec... I promise you.’
It was, too, and suddenly all jet lag was gone, and energy and the fires of arousal leapt within her, dismissing all other thoughts.
‘I wanted to swim in the sea,’ was her last muffled cry as he swept her off to the bed.
‘Later...’ Max growled.
Afterwards, as they lay exhausted in each other’s sated embrace, it came to him that for a woman who had only a handful of days ago regarded herself as completely repellent to the male race, she was, in fact, taking to this like a natural. As if she’d been born to be in his arms...
* * *
Ellen waded out of the water, feeling the heat of the sun on her body immediately, even through her sopping wet T-shirt. Her snorkel and mask dangled loose in her hand.
‘Lunch?’ asked Max, glancing at her and admiring the way the wet T-shirt material clung to her generous breasts. Desire stirred in him. Maybe they could wait for lunch for a while?
‘Definitely,’ agreed Ellen, dashing his hopes, or at least deferring them until a post-lunch siesta.
* * *
Ellen glanced fondly at him. The days had slipped by, one after another, each one glorious. They’d swum and snorkelled, sailed and kayaked, and Ellen had done a beginner’s dive while Max, with years of experience, had gone for a serious deep water session.
She’d accompanied Max as he’d inspected the resort site, talking to his project manager, the architect and the work crew who came across from the main island, where they lived. It had been revealing to see him with his staff, because even the most junior of the work crew got a word of appreciation from him, and she’d been able to see they regarded him as a good boss.
That said a lot about a person...things she could admire, respect. No mere venal money-grubbing property developer was he—his values were those she could share and approve of.
‘There are places in the world where new construction is fine—and places where it isn’t,’ Max was saying now as they relaxed, replete after dinner cooked over an open firepit, down on their little beach, leaning back against a rock with the water lapping gently a few metres away and overhead the tropical stars wheeling their slow arc across the midnight sky. ‘Places where we should tread lightly on the land, as I’m trying to do here, or not tread at all—places where we should save and repair what is already there, conserve what earlier generations have built.’
She glanced at him, liking what she’d heard him say. ‘Maybe being Greek helps—growing up amongst so much antiquity?’
But her words drew from him a glance that seemed, she felt, to admonish her.
‘We cannot live in the past—it is not healthy to do so. Sometimes,’ he said, ‘we have to let go. Let go of the past and make a new future for ourselves! A new life.’
Ellen’s eyes slipped away. Discomfort snagged in her, and she wished he had not said that. This was the first time he’d referred to the underlying reason he was in her life at all. Up till now there had been no mention of it—as if that troubled situation thousands of miles across the ocean did not exist. And certainly it had not intruded into what they had here.
Here, she knew—with a gratitude that in itself was revealing of how much she did not want to think of anything beyond this bliss—she could merely revel in what was happening. Day after day, just her and Max—wonderful, wonderful Max!—who’d transformed her, transformed her life, and to whom she would be grateful always! Walking barefoot on the sand, hand in hand beneath the sun, beneath the moon and stars. All cares and concerns far, far away.
But now he was reminding her of them. Making her think about them...making her face them once again. She didn’t want to hear him say such things. He’d made no mention before—none at all—of what was for this brief space of time an ocean away. Nor did she want him to.
I don’t want this time with him spoilt in any way at all. I don’t want to think about Haughton, how desperate I am to keep it. Nor to be told that I should let it go...
But Max was speaking again, gazing up at the starry night sky.
‘I remade my life,’ he was saying. ‘My mother’s death forced me to do so. I wish so much she’d lived to see what I’ve achieved, but it was not to be.’
His gaze flicked back to her, trying to read her expression in the dim light. But he could not see it. And nor could he bring himself to tell her how struck he’d been by the house he wanted her to yield to him—how it had called to him immediately, arousing in him for the first time in his life an urge to cease his wandering, rootless lifestyle.
Instead he focussed on what he so wanted her to realise for herself. ‘Do you not think,’ he ventured carefully, weighing the impact of each word upon her, ‘that your father’s death is also a turning point for you? Allowing you to be free at last to do what you want with your life?’ He chose the word ‘allowing’ specifically. ‘Allowing you,’ he finished, his eyes on her, ‘to move on. To claim your own life for yourself?’
With a sweep of his hand he indicated the whole expanse of the beach, the starry tropical sky, the lap of the gentle waves.
‘It’s a good life, isn’t it?’ he said softly. ‘Here—and everywhere! The whole world lies before you, Ellen, and now you know how beautiful you are, how desirable, what is stopping you from walking out into that world? Living your life. Your life, Ellen—unfettered and untrammelled. Not trapped in an unhappy past.’
She let him speak. She knew why he was saying it—knew it was because he wanted her to stop fighting him, stop clinging to Haughton. Knew that he truly believed it would be for her own good. But she could make no reply. Inside her, like a festering wound, was all the bitterness she felt about what Pauline’s marriage to her father had done, and it could not be so easily lanced.
I don’t want to think about them—what they did to my father, to me—not while I’m here, having this precious time with Max. I don’t want to tell him what they’re like, how vicious and ruthless they are—greedy for everything they can get their hands on. I don’t want this idyll with Max spoilt.
So she looked away, giving a slow shake of her head, closing her eyes momentarily. Shutting out what he was telling her. Then she felt his hand on her arm, not pressing firmly, almost as a message to her.
‘Think about what I’ve said...’ His voice was low, compelling. ‘That’s all I ask for now.’
He paused, instinctively knowing that he must say no more now, that she must ponder his words, let them soak into her
. Make sense to her.
He shifted his position, hooking his arms loosely around his splayed bent knees. ‘So,’ he said, his tone quite different now, ‘what shall we do tomorrow? How about if we take the catamaran out?’
Gratefully, Ellen followed his lead. This was the Max she wanted. Carefree and easy-going. Revelling in the days and nights they spent here.
And she was grateful, too, the next day—to experience the thrill and the speed of skimming over the azure swell as she clung to the tarpaulin between the twin hulls of the wind-hungry vessel, with Max commandingly at the helm.
‘Enjoying it?’ he shouted to her over the rush of wind.
‘Fantastic!’ she yelled back, and then gave a cry, snatching more tightly at the tarpaulin, as with a careless answering laugh Max spun the helm, heading right into the wind, and the catamaran tacked with a lift of one hull before coming about again.
Exhilaration filled her as he headed downwind back to shore. With easy strength she helped him haul the vessel up on to the beach, then flopped down on the hot sand.
Max lowered himself beside her. Her eyes were shining, her face alight. There was sand in her hair, and it was windblown and tangled. A memory of how Tyla had hated getting her hair in a mess sifted through him—how she’d fussed endlessly about her appearance, wanting him and every other man to admire her constantly. Desire her.
His eyes softened. Ellen—his own beautiful lioness—was fit and fabulous. She’d believed no man could desire her, and even now that he had convinced her how very, very wrong that misconception had been, so that she now finally accepted the truth of her own appeal, there was still no trace of the fussing and self-absorption that Tyla had indulged in endlessly.
How easy that makes her to be with—she accepts my desire for her as naturally as breathing now, returns it with an ardour that takes my breath away!
And it was much more than simply the time she spent in his arms, breathtaking though that was. It was her enthusiasm, her sheer enjoyment of everything—from food, to sunbathing, to swimming, to gazing up at the stars—everything they did together.
I like being with her. I like her company—I like her thoughts and views and opinions. I like it that she likes this simple place and that she does not yearn for bright lights and sophisticated glamour. I like her laughter and her smiles.
She was smiling now—smiling right up at him as he loomed over her.
‘Good fun?’ He grinned, and she laughed again exuberantly. ‘You can sail her tomorrow,’ he promised, and then busied himself with kissing her.
From kissing her it was an easy progression to sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her up to their open-air room, making use, yet again, of the very large bed.
His last conscious thought, barely forming in his head, was just how good it was to make love with Ellen—how very, very good. And then there was no more thought, no more conscious awareness of anything at all, only rich, sating fulfilment.
* * *
Max’s hand was resting lazily over Ellen’s warm, sand-speckled thigh as they lay in partial shade on their little beach, having breakfasted on their terrace after an early-morning workout at the open-air gym in what would shortly be the reception and central services area of the resort. They were sunning themselves, waiting for enough wind to rise so they could take out the catamaran.
It was their penultimate day there, and Ellen was only too conscious of a sense of deep, aching reluctance for this blissful, wondrous time to end. She could feel a little tug on her insides—a sense of yearning for this time not to be over, not to be done with. She glanced over the sparkling azure water to the curve of the tiny bay edged with vivid glossy foliage. The fronded roofing of their wooden cabana was barely visible, blending into the verdant greenery.
She gave a low, regretful sigh. These past days—one slipping effortlessly into the next, so that she’d all but lost count of them—had been so wonderful. So idyllic. They had been cocooned on this lush tropical island, living as close to nature as they could. Away from all the rest of the world, away from all its problems and difficulties.
A little Eden—just for the two of us. And I was Eve—woman new-made. Discovering for the first time just how joyous being a woman can be.
New-made, indeed—and from Adam’s rib. A smile tugged whimsically at her mouth.
Max made me—he made me a woman, sensual and passionate.
Oh, he’d done it for his own purposes, his own ends—she had no illusions about that. He had been perfectly open about wanting her to discover what life could be like beyond what she knew he saw as the prison of her childhood home. The place that had trapped her in misery, in the past, in her bitter feud with Pauline and Chloe. But she didn’t care. How could she? His motives could never detract from the effect his liberation had had on her. The wondrous, glorious gift he had given her!
The gift of his own desire for her.
And hers for him.
Her eyes went to him now with familiar pleasure as he lay beside her on the sand, dark glasses shading his eyes so that she did not know if he was dozing or awake.
It was the latter. ‘Why the sigh?’ he asked, turning his head towards her.
‘Oh, I guess it’s just that I... Well... This time tomorrow we’ll be heading back to London.’
She felt his gaze on her through the opaque lenses. ‘You’ve enjoyed it here?’
There was a little choke in her voice. ‘Of course I have! It’s been idyllic.’ It was all she could manage to say.
‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘it’s certainly been that.’
His hand moved a fraction on her thigh, and he turned his head away to look up into the sky. She could hear a pause in his silence. Then he spoke.
‘Tell me...’
His voice was different—almost, she thought, speculative.
‘What do you think about Arizona?’
She frowned in surprise. ‘Arizona?’
‘Yes. Or actually it might be Utah. I’ll have to check.’ He turned his head towards her again, pushing his dark glasses up on to his head. ‘Ever heard of Roarke National Park?’
She shook her head, still frowning slightly.
‘Well,’ Max continued, ‘it’s not as well-known as the more famous National Parks in the American West, such as Zion and Bryce—let alone the Grand Canyon. But, anyway, the lodge there is hosting a seminar on sustainable tourist development which I’ve a fancy to go to.’
He paused again, his eyes suddenly unreadable.
‘So what do you say? Shall we head there next? We can fly from Miami. Once the seminar’s done we could add a few days’ hiking, maybe. Pick up boots and kit when we’re there. Does it appeal?’
She was silent. Then suddenly she propelled herself up on her elbow, looking down at Max. ‘Yes! Oh, yes.’
In an instant her heart was singing, her mood soaring into the stratosphere. More time with Max—oh, yes, more time!
A grin split his face. ‘Great,’ he said.
He reached up a hand to her nape, drawing her mouth down to his, letting her hair fall like a veil around them. Satisfaction filled him. And a sense of triumph. Another new place, another new experience for Ellen to savour—to tempt her to stay out in the wonderful world that could be hers if she left her past behind her.
And, best of all, another stretch of time to enjoy all that she bestowed upon him.
His kiss deepened, and soon all thoughts of taking the catamaran out that morning faded completely.
CHAPTER TEN
ROARKE NATIONAL PARK proved to be an experience ideally suited to Ellen. She loved it—loved the wild beauty of the American West, loved even more experiencing it with Max.
They flew in to Salt Lake City, then drove down through the increasing grandeur of the landscape as it rose in a vast stone flight of inclined steps from the south. The park itself was still relatively quiet at this early time in the season, with parts of it still closed by snow, but in the sheltered canyon it was warm
er, and the sunlit orange sandstone rock was a vivid contrast with the deep blue of the sky and the dark green of the pines.
The timber-built lodge fitted into its remote setting perfectly, blending into the landscape, a tribute in itself to the kind of design that worked best in places where nature was pre-eminent. And Ellen found the seminar fascinating—as fascinating as learning about the geology and geography of the park and the wider landscape beyond. Already she was planning a field trip here, making appropriate notes with which to broach the project with her headmistress on her return.
She made no mention of that to Max, however. She did not want to trigger another attempt by him to persuade her to abandon what he was so convinced were the confines of her life at Haughton. She did not want that upset. Wanted only to enjoy this time with him to the hilt.
And enjoy it she did.
As he’d promised, after the seminar they kitted themselves up with hiking gear and took to the trails that were open at that time of year.
‘Boy...’ she breathed as they reached the summit of one trail that had ascended up out of the canyon and on to a rocky plateau where the chill wind seemed only cooling after the heat generated by their hard-pushed muscles. ‘You don’t need a gym at this place, do you?’
Max gave a laugh, leaning back on a rock to take a long draught of water from the flask that hung around his neck—an absolute necessity for hiking, as they’d been firmly instructed by the rangers—and she did likewise.
‘No, indeed,’ he agreed. ‘We’re going to feel it in our legs tomorrow, though, I suspect. But it’s worth it ten times over.’
‘Oh, yes.’ She nodded, her eyes sweeping out over the grandeur of the wilderness that stretched as far as the eye could see and much further still. Her gaze came back to Max. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
He smiled, warm and affectionate. ‘I knew this was a good idea,’ he said. He lowered his backpack to the ground. ‘Right, that hike’s made me starving—time for lunch.’
They settled themselves on a sun-warmed rock in the lee of a boulder that sheltered them from the keening wind and companionably started on the packed lunch prepared for them. Ellen lifted her face to the sun. Happiness filled her. Complete and absolute happiness.