Kitabı oku: «Paradise Nights», sayfa 3

‘And do your family approve of your plans for the future? The photojournalism career? The endless travel away from the family bosom?’

‘Let’s just say they don’t quite understand,’ she said lightly, but her eyes told a different, darker story.

‘Maybe one day they will.’

She smiled and leaned back in her chair. ‘You’re a nice man, Pete Bennett. Idealistic, but nice.’

There was that word again. Nice. She really should stop bandying it about. It made a man uncomfortable. ‘You do know that nice isn’t really on this evening’s agenda?’ he told her softly. ‘That would be the wrong notion to be carrying around altogether.’

Her smile held equal measures of wickedness and delight. ‘I’d be very disappointed if it was.’

A weathered old man appeared beside the table, glaring at him from beneath thick grey eyebrows and over a strongly hooked nose. ‘You’ll order now,’ he said.

Pete looked to Serena and raised an eyebrow. ‘Care to order?’

‘My usual, Pappou Theo. The fish stew and the salad.’

‘Pappou Theo?’ he murmured.

‘Honorary grandfather,’ she said. ‘One of my grandfather’s pinochle partners.’

That explained the scowl. ‘I’ll have the oysters and then the fish stew,’ he said. ‘Serena tells me good things about it.’

‘No oysters for you!’ said the old man emphatically. ‘Greek salad with many onions. You’ll like.’ The old man turned to Serena again and surveyed her critically. ‘Does Nico know you’re here?’

‘Yes, Pappou.’

‘And when does he expect you home? At a reasonable hour, I hope.’

‘Yes, Pappou. Very reasonable.’

The old man muttered to himself beneath his breath and turned back to Pete. ‘Drinks?’ he barked.

‘Some white wine?’ Pete looked to Serena.

‘No!’ said the old man. ‘No wine.’

‘Raki?’

‘Pig swill,’ he said.

‘Beer?’

‘Not for you. I’ll bring the water over,’ said the old man, and stalked away.

Pete stared after him. ‘That went well.’

‘I did warn you,’ she said. ‘I told you there’d be sharks. You told me you could swim.’

‘I can swim.’ And he was enjoying the challenge of getting past her guardians. He watched as the old man ambled towards the kitchen with their order. ‘I’m just rethinking our next evening meal. I have a plan.’

‘Is it a cunning plan?’

‘It involves travel off the island. For you.’

‘I like it,’ she said. ‘Simple yet effective.’

‘How far away do you think we’ll have to get before you run out of relatives?’

‘Three or four islands over,’ she said breezily. ‘Five at the most. Or we could play it really safe and go to Istanbul for the evening. That’d work.’

‘You don’t have any relatives in Turkey?’

‘None we admit to.’

‘So … ‘He began to think of more immediate options. ‘What would a man have to do to earn your family’s approval to court you?’

‘You want to court me? I’m thinking courtship comes under the heading of nice again.’

‘I’m speaking theoretically.’

‘Well, theoretically, it’d help if you were Greek and owned a shipping line.’

‘How about Australian and co-owner of a small charter airline?’

‘I’d have to check. Tell me … are you of Greek Orthodox religion?’

‘Catholic,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Lapsed.’

‘You might want to keep that to yourself,’ she said.

‘You should probably stick to talk of undying devotion to me, an exceptionally large income, a huge wedding, and your longing to help produce half a dozen children in very short order.’

‘How many children?’ he spluttered.

‘Oh, okay, five then. But that’s my absolute minimum.’

‘You want five children? In very short order? Are we sure about this?’ She didn’t look all that sure. ‘Two,’ he said firmly. ‘Two’s a good number. Any more than two and we won’t all fit in the helicopter.’

‘Four,’ she countered with a grin. ‘And we’re definitely going to need a bigger helicopter. Something roomy and safe. Family-minded. A Volvo of a helicopter.’

‘Oh, that’s harsh,’ he murmured. ‘Anyone would think you didn’t want a man to consider a serious relationship with you.’

‘They’d be right.’

‘God, you’re perfect,’ he said. ‘I swear you stand a very good chance of ruining me for all other women.’

‘That’s quite a compliment,’ she countered. ‘But I really don’t want to ruin you for anyone. I just want to play a while.’

‘Utterly and irrevocably perfect,’ he said on a sigh. ‘Hell, Serena, you might just ruin me anyway.’

Their meal arrived and they ate it. Sinfully rich stew with a smattering of easy conversation on the side. Pete knew the game of seduction very well and played it with a skill that left her breathless and more than a little intrigued as to what would come next. A rakish smile or a challenging question? A sidestep here, advance, or retreat? He kept her guessing. Kept her amused and entertained.

She was a curious woman by nature, but he did a remarkable job of making her want to know more of him. Like what it was that had put the shadows in his eyes, and what he was doing here, flying tourists around the sky, when every instinct she owned told her there was so much more to him than this.

‘Coffee?’ he suggested as Theo cleared their plates away. ‘Dessert?’ Theo opened his mouth as if to refuse them that as well. Pete eyed him coolly. ‘Of course, if there’s nothing available here I’d be happy to take you somewhere else.’

They got their coffee and dessert. They also got a taxi without having to order it. It was leaving within the next five minutes, Theo told them. It’d be a good idea if Serena were in it. She didn’t disagree.

Pete looked amused but neither did he.

They were back at the little whitewashed cottage on the hillside by a quarter to ten. Serena waited in silence as Pete paid the taxi driver and, stepping back, looked towards her front door. ‘No sharks,’ he said. ‘There’s a surprise.’

‘Nico’s pretty easygoing,’ she said dryly. ‘I can’t see him objecting too much to our having dinner up at Theo’s.’

‘Can’t you?’ There was that soul-stealing smile again. ‘I can.’

Nico had left the outside light on for them, but before she could decide how to end the evening, whether to invite him in, cut and run, or try and figure out something in between, the door opened and Nico stood there glaring at them both.

‘You’re still awake,’ she said, surprised. Nico usually bedded down far earlier than this. All that getting-up-before-dawn business.

‘Have you any idea how many phone calls I’ve had about you tonight?’ he demanded.

‘Er … more than you wanted?’

‘One was more than I wanted. I’ve had four. Four! Two from Theo, one from Marianne Papadopoulos, and one from your mother! And don’t ask me how she knew you were out on a date, because I have no idea. Anyone would think you were making love on the tabletop.’ He eyed them narrowly. ‘Were you?’

‘No!’ Serena’s hands went to her hips and her temper slid up a notch. ‘We were trying to have a meal, and a restricted one at that. When was the last time you went out to dinner and Theo refused you oysters and alcohol?’

Nico’s lips twitched.

Serena narrowed her eyes. ‘Don’t you dare laugh.’

‘Not laughing,’ he said, and then spoiled it by grinning hugely as he turned away and stalked back down the hall. ‘This isn’t Australia,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘It isn’t even Athens. What did you expect?’ He spared a lightning glance for Pete. ‘You’ve got five minutes. I need my sleep. Anything happens to Sam on board that boat tomorrow and Chloe’ll skewer me with a fish-hook. Anything happens to Serena in the next five minutes that’s not entirely circumspect and I’ll skewer you. That’s the way it works around here. Welcome to Sathi.’

‘All right,’ she said with a sigh as she closed the door on Nico’s retreating form and turning to study the man at her side. ‘So I could have been slightly wrong about Nico not worrying about our dinner together—although, to be scrupulously fair, he probably wasn’t the one doing the worrying. Others did it for him. How do you feel? Alarmed? Afraid? Threatened?’

‘Nah.’ Far from looking worried, Superman looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself. ‘He gave me five minutes. He likes me.’

She liked him. And that was proving more of a problem than she’d thought it would be. ‘Walk with me, Pete Bennett. I’ll show you my favourite place in the garden.’ She clasped her arms around her waist and walked around the side of the cottage, to the edge of the garden to stare out over the moonlit sea. She did some of her best thinking just sitting there staring out to sea.

She needed to do some very serious thinking about what she wanted from this man right about now.

She’d looked at him a few days back and seen a pleasant diversion. A charming playmate with no strings attached. She looked at him now and saw something far more dangerous. A man with a generous heart, and a guarded one. A man with the potential to captivate her as well as charm her, and she didn’t want that. No, she couldn’t have that.

Not when for the first time in her life she could see a time up ahead with no commitments and no family ties. Her time. Time for chasing long-held dreams for a career she could be proud of.

‘I’ve enjoyed your company,’ Serena said at last.

Nothing but the truth in that statement. ‘I’d like to enjoy it some more. But we’re going to need some rules.’

‘I love rules,’ he said. ‘What kind of rules?’

‘We keep this light-hearted,’ she said firmly. ‘No falling in love.’

‘Check.’

‘And brief. We’ll both be leaving here soon enough. We should make that the end of it. Clean break. Happy memories.’

‘Mature of us,’ he said. ‘Anything else?’

‘I know we’re talking a brief and in no way serious relationship here, but I’m thinking exclusivity is a must.’

‘You’d better be,’ he said curtly.

‘There is one more thing.’

‘You’re pushing your luck, Serena.’

He looked tough, forbidding, and Serena wondered afresh whether she was insane to think she could handle this man. He walked his own path, made his own rules. But this last rule was important. ‘We need to be discreet.’ Otherwise it would reflect badly on her family, and she didn’t want that. ‘It’s this place … ‘she said with more than a little frustration.

Pete laughed at that, and the rich dark sound of it slid along her skin like water.

‘You’re right,’ he murmured. ‘We’ll be discreet.’And then his lips were on hers, hard and seeking, and all her carefully thought out rules shattered beneath the weight of her desire.

Pete’s body betrayed him the moment he reached for her. He’d known it would. The searing heat. The outrageous, all-consuming need to possess that which he held and, in doing so, offer up a part of himself. She was all luscious curves, made for a man’s hands, his hands, as he curled his fingers around her buttocks and brought their lower bodies into languid and intimate contact. He could be discreet. If that was what she wanted. He’d do it. He would.

Soon.

Just as soon as he’d finished feasting on her mouth.

She dug her hands in his hair and her lips turned ravenous, but he was ready for the staggering hunger of her kisses this time and he ate them up, spun them round, and served them straight back at her.

Serena had thought she was prepared for the passion this man brought to lovemaking, but she wasn’t prepared for this. It was like a meeting of souls, locked in a kiss, and she feared it … heaven help her she feared it … even as she gloried in it. Whatever she wanted, however she wanted it, he had it in him to give. And she wanted it all.

Shuddering at the sensations threatening to overwhelm her, she dragged her lips free of his kiss and set trembling fingers to his mouth instead. A barrier, a slowdown, only her fingers had a mind of their own, exploring his upper lip, the strong shapely curve of it, before dragging the sensitive pad of her forefinger across the sculpted fullness of the rest.

Serena watched as those perfect lips curved into a smile; a smile for her attempts to regain control maybe; and then she was urging his mouth open and replacing fingertips with lips and with tongue for a kiss so staggeringly potent she clear forgot to breathe.

Whatever she wanted, she thought helplessly as his tongue duelled delicately with hers. Just the way she wanted it, as his fingers tightened on her butt and he surged against her, and with a ragged groan spun them into the maelstrom again.

His eyes were black, as black as sin and deep enough to drown in, when finally, finally, they stood apart.

‘Discreet.’ He ran a hand around the back of his neck. ‘We might have to work on that one,’ he said raggedly. And then he was gone.

CHAPTER FOUR

NICO scowled at her when she staggered into the kitchen. Serena ignored him and headed for the sink, filling a tall glass to the brim with tap water and downing it in one long swallow. ‘So … ‘she said, finally turning to face her cousin. ‘How was your night?’

Nico’s eyes narrowed. ‘I said five minutes.’

‘It was five minutes.’

‘It was ten minutes, your mouth’s all swollen, and your hands are shaking.’

Oh.

‘You can’t take a man like that seriously, Serena.’

‘I don’t intend to.’

‘I mean, what do we know about him? Apart from the fact that he was able to pack up his life in an instant and come out here when Tomas called. Seriously, what does that say about a man?’

‘That he’s a good friend to Tomas?’

‘He’s a drifter. A man with no responsibilities.’

‘You should ask him what he used to do for a living,’ she said wryly. ‘It’s quite illuminating.’

‘He’s trouble. I thought you could handle him or I’d never have introduced you.’

‘I can handle him,’ she snapped. She’d had enough of Nico’s and everyone else’s well-meaning interference. ‘I know damn well he’s trouble. I don’t need you to tell me that. I know it wouldn’t work out. I don’t want it to work out. All right?’ Her voice broke but the rest of her stood tall as she glared across the table at Nico and dared him to take her to task for a passion she couldn’t control. ‘I know.’

Pete was fresh out of a cold shower in the little bedsit, a towel slung around his waist and his hair still dripping water, when he took it in his head to call his older brother. In Singapore.

‘‘Lo.’ Jake’s voice sounded raspy, sleepy.

‘Jake? What time is it there?’ He did the maths, winced a little at the early morning hour. ‘I, ah, didn’t interrupt anything, did I?’

‘Not unless you count sleep as something. Which you should.’

‘Never mind. I’ll call back later.’

‘You in trouble?’ asked Jake.

‘Not really.’

Jake said nothing. Jake was really good at waiting in silence while the other person squirmed and tried to put feelings into words. Something to do with inner stillness and meditation. He’d never quite managed to get the hang of it, himself. ‘All right, so I could have a slight problem.’

‘Define “slight”.’

‘There’s this woman.’

Dead silence at that. Fraught silence. Not a lot of inner stillness in that silence at all. And then, ‘Why me?’ said Jake, his voice long-suffering. ‘I live a frugal life. I keep to myself. I pay my taxes. Why?’

‘Is this a bad time to call?’ he said. ‘Because I can call back later. When you’re making more sense.’

‘Is she terminally ill?’

‘No.’

‘Are you terminally ill?’

‘No.’

‘Is she married to a Mafia Don who wants to cut off your balls?’

‘She’s not married at all.’

‘So there’s no bodily danger to you at this particular point in time?’

‘No.’ It was his soul he was worried about. ‘My body thinks it’s found heaven.’

‘Colour me envious,’ said Jake, ‘but what the hell is your problem?’

‘She doesn’t want to be tied down.’

‘So? Neither do you. The minute a woman starts getting serious, you’re gone.’

‘This one’s kind of interesting.’

Silence.

‘You’ve fallen for her,’ said Jake finally.

‘I have not!’ he said indignantly. ‘I did not say that. I was just wondering what the next step up from a strictly casual relationship might be. You know … casual yet slightly meaningful. Comes before commitment. But I can’t remember what it’s called.’

‘Self-delusion,’ said Jake dryly. ‘Run.’

‘That’s your advice? Run?’

‘Yep.’

‘Any other advice?’

‘Nope.’

‘You are no help whatsoever.’

‘Not in this,’ said Jake with grim humour. ‘Call Tris,’ he said, and hung up.

No way, thought Pete as he shoved the phone back in his bag. No way was he calling anyone else in his family tonight. One delusional phone call an evening was enough. He towelled his hair, found a fresh pair of boxers in his carryall and looked at the bed.

He was nowhere near ready for bed.

He found a book, tossed it on the bed as incentive.

Still not ready for bed. The image of a dark-eyed goddess in an ivory-coloured sundress flashed through his mind, closely followed by an image of her lying in his bed with no ivory-coloured sundress on at all.

Now he’d never get to sleep.

So she wanted nothing more than a light hearted romp. Was this a bad thing? No. Light hearted romps were his speciality.

So he’d wondered, briefly, about a relationship that involved a little bit … more. Clearly not a good idea. He’d get over it. Was over it. A short-term relationship was fine. Just fine.

Fidelity he could do.

As for discretion. Pete thought back to the kisses they’d shared and chuckled as he stripped the towel from his body and ran it over his hair.

Heaven help them both.

* * *

Breakfast the following morning was a revelation. Serena had rapped on the bedsit door at seven and told him that breakfast was available in the kitchen if he wanted it. Ten minutes later he made his way over there, showered, shaved and ready for whatever lay ahead as far as light hearted, short-term, discreetly exclusive relationships were concerned.

And then he stepped through the kitchen doorway and she stopped grinding fresh coffee beans and smiled at him and every rational thought he’d had about her left his head.

She wore modest shorts and a bright pink T-shirt— Pete recognised it as her Vespa hire attire—and had pulled her hair back into a pony-tail. Nothing overtly seductive about any of it—no slinky sleepwear or artfully tousled hair, and still her innate sensuality punched into him like a fist.

‘What would you like for breakfast?’ she asked as she loaded up the breakfast bench with far more food than he could possibly eat.

‘You don’t have to do this, you know,’ he said as he relieved her of the orange juice and gestured towards the bench. ‘I can get my own cereal.’

‘All part of the service.’ She stifled a yawn and padded over to the kitchen sink, leaning over to open the window above it. ‘You want anything cooked? Sausages? Bacon and eggs?’

What he wanted was to drag her back to bed and make love to her until the sleepiness left her eyes and satisfaction took its place. What he wanted was to ask her what she had planned for the day and then rearrange his own schedule to fit in around hers so he could see her again later. What he said was, ‘No, thanks. This is fine.’

‘So … ‘she poured herself a cup of coffee and cradled it in her hands as she leaned back against the kitchen counter and studied him ‘… what do you usually talk about at breakfast?’

‘Usually I’m by myself.’

‘When you’re not,’ she said dryly.

He tried to think. Couldn’t. Not when she strolled over and settled into the chair opposite him and her scent wrapped around him like a promise. ‘Work. We talk about work. What that person is doing with their day. That sort of thing. ‘

‘Oh,’ she said. And with another one of those lazy, loaded smiles, ‘What are you doing with your day, Pete Bennett?’

‘Well …’ He wished his mind would return from wherever he’d dropped it. It was probably somewhere over by the door. ‘First up is Corfu to drop passengers, then Cyprus to pick up some cargo, then back to mainland Greece. I’ll overnight in Athens.’

‘Skite,’ she muttered. ‘I’m going to the Vespa shed. I’ll be there until five.’

‘I’ll think of you.’ Nothing but the truth.

‘What else do you talk about?’

‘Anything. Everything. Except for home improvements. A woman starts talking home improvements and I start to get nervous.’

‘Really?’ she said archly. ‘So you don’t think this kitchen needs a bigger window? I think it needs a much bigger window. I mean, look at that view! It’s just begging to be taken advantage of.’

‘It doesn’t work when you talk about improvements to your home,’ he told her smugly as he reached for the cereal. ‘It only works when the house in question is mine.’

‘Ah. I should have guessed.’

‘You should be grateful,’ he told her. ‘You don’t want a man who’s looking for a woman to improve his home, remember?’

‘Not yet, anyway,’ she murmured.

‘So … you do want one eventually?’ This was interesting.

‘Well, yes,’ she said with a toss of her head. ‘Eventually. But now is not convenient.’

‘Why not?’

‘I want to travel for a while. Concentrate on my career. Be free of family for a bit. Family commitments are messy. They confuse things.’

‘So … you’re streamlining.’ Pete looked around at the mass of food, remembering the easy way she dealt with Nico and with Sam, with everyone who crossed her path, and stifled a grin.

Serena’s eyes narrowed. ‘Something amusing you?’

‘If I had to hazard a guess I’d say you liked life a little messy and complicated.’

‘Maybe in the past,’ she said. ‘Maybe for another few weeks. But in a month’s time life is going to be sleek, career-focussed, and ever so slightly narcissistic.’

‘Hence our rules for this relationship.’

‘Exactly. I knew you’d understand. More coffee?’

Pete kept his expression deadpan as she breezed her way through the breakfast ritual. Toast, animated discussion of a story in the newspaper, a grocery list for Nico. He ate his cereal, watched her put a load of Nico’s work clothes in the washing machine, and wondered afresh at humankind’s capacity for self-delusion. The fresh-brewed-coffee goddess didn’t have a narcissistic bone in her body. Oh, she might have looked the part, but beneath all that blatant sensuality lay an innate regard for the welfare of others that he doubted she’d ever shake.

No matter what kind of plans she’d made for the future.

His watch told him it was time to fly. His stomach told him there was no reason to linger over breakfast any longer. Sighing, Pete stood and took his breakfast bowl and coffee-cup over to the sink.

‘You’re right. You do need a bigger window here,’ he said as she came to stand beside him.

‘I knew you’d see it my way.’ Serena smiled and leaned back against the counter, her hands either side of her as he stepped in closer, effectively trapping her between himself and the counter. Her smile widened.

‘Maybe instead of dinner next time, we could do something your honorary protectors don’t object to quite so much. We could go sightseeing.’ He brushed her lips with his. ‘Swimming.’ Another kiss, just as fleeting. ‘Something.’

‘When will you be back this way?’ she murmured, leaning towards him and lifting her mouth towards his for a kiss rich with promise and in no way fleeting. His mind had fogged and he was a whisper away from taking things further when finally she drew away.

‘Soon.’

Just over one week later, Serena sat at the desk in her grandparents’ tiny sitting room that doubled as an office and waded through her latest batch of job applications. She’d commandeered one of Nico’s fishing crew to run the Vespa hire business for the afternoon so she could get this latest lot done and on their way. Trouble was, she was doing more daydreaming than working and her pile of completed job applications didn’t seem to be getting any bigger. Time was wasting. Flying.

Wrong word. Serena scowled and tried very hard not to think of other things that might be flying, a particular person who might be flying for example, although he certainly hadn’t been flying her way of late.

He’d said he’d be back soon. One week did not qualify as soon.

When it came to life on the island, one week bore a startling resemblance to eternity.

‘Nico said I’d find you here,’ said a deep voice from the doorway and Serena caught her breath at the sudden rapid pounding of her heart. She turned slowly, her brain wrestling her wayward body for control of her next actions. Her body was all for launching itself into his arms and getting frantic fast. Her brain wanted something a little more demure and nonchalant. Something composed.

She settled for leaning back in her chair and swirling round to face him, chin high in silent defiance of the effect he had on her body. She could control this. She could. ‘You’re late,’ she said darkly, drinking him in, those startling good looks, the smile in his eyes and the way his lips tilted at her words.

‘How goes the job hunting?’ he said.

‘It’s probably best if you don’t ask about the job hunting right now.’

‘That bad, huh?’

‘Let’s just say there’s not a lot here that makes my heart go pitter patter.’ Apart from the obvious.

‘So can I persuade you to take some time out to go for a Vespa ride or a swim?’

With a smile like that he could doubtless persuade her to do anything. Not that he needed to know that.

‘I can probably spare a few hours. Distractions aren’t all that common around here. When they arrive we tend to make time for them. It’s just the island way.’ There. Nonchalant had been well and truly nailed. Who said she had no control around this man? She looked at the carryall at his feet. ‘Are you staying overnight?’

‘Two hours.’

‘That’s it?’ Her nonchalance headed south, never mind the nails.

‘I have a pick-up in Santorini later this afternoon. Business is booming.’

Bummer. She stacked her papers into a pile and shut down her laptop. Two hours was still two hours. No point wasting it. ‘I hope you have a towel in your bag. And swimmers.’

‘Happens I do,’ he said.

Hers were in her room. ‘I’ll meet you in the courtyard in three minutes. Help yourself to some food from the kitchen on the way.’

Three minutes later she stood by the fastest Vespa on the island—which wasn’t saying much—with Superman beside her munching an apple as she contemplated their next step. ‘What would you rather do first? Swim or sightsee? There’s a good swimming cove nearby. Some pretty little churches up in the hills. Do you like churches?’

‘They have their uses. But I’d rather swim first and repent later,’ he said with a decidedly unangelic smile.

‘I like your thinking.’ Such a good catholic. She looked at the Vespa, looked back at Pete. ‘Who’s driving?’

His lips twitched as his gaze met hers. ‘Now there’s a question.’

‘I’m the one who knows where we’re going,’ she said reasonably.

‘True,’ he said with a sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring dejectedly at the bike for good measure. ‘There’s no arguing with that.’

Serena rolled her eyes at the pitiful image of male self sacrifice before her. ‘Or we could go past the shed and get another Vespa. Then we could both be in the driver’s seat.’

‘A marginally better idea,’ he said. ‘If you discount the wasted fuel.’

They stared at the bike some more.

‘You could always give me directions,’ he said.

‘Can you take directions?’ she asked sceptically.

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘There doesn’t need to be a reason.’ Clearly he’d never been in the car with her parents.

‘Not only can I take directions, I also have an equal opportunity plan of attack for this particular dilemma,’ he said. ‘Me being a thoroughly modern man and all.’

Serena snorted. ‘Let’s hear it, then.’ He wasn’t quite as traditional in his thinking as her father and brothers when it came to womenfolk and their place in the world. But he wasn’t that far off it.

‘I’ll drive us to the beach, you can drive us to the church,’ he said with a grin. ‘We’ll start tossing coins after that.’

‘My hero.’ Wonders would never cease.

He handed her his carry bag and straddled the bike. She slung the bag over her shoulder, next to her own, and slipped onto the bike, her hands at his waist and her sundress riding high on her thighs so that when she settled into place behind him her bare thighs nudged the lightweight cotton material of his trousers and the tightly muscled buttocks beneath. Maybe there was something to be said for not being in the driver’s seat after all. This was very nice. Very … liberating. Perfect, in fact.

But wait. She’d wrinkled his shirt and she couldn’t have that. So she let her hands roam all over that wide muscled back; a wrinkle smoothed here, a wrinkle made there. Really, there was just no getting rid of them.

‘Serena—’ His voice was husky, more than a little strained.

‘Hmm?’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Ironing.’

‘Well, can you do it later?’ he muttered. ‘I’m trying to concentrate here.’

‘Oh.’ She slid her hands beneath his shirt and set them to his waist, set her feet to the footpegs, her knees tucking in behind his and bringing her thighs into even closer contact with the back of his. ‘Sorry. Ready when you are.’

‘Serena—’ He sounded long suffering, his voice a deep delicious rumble that started in his chest and carried all the way to the tips of her fingers as well as her ears. There was just no end to the sensory delights to be found on the back of this bike. ‘The directions—’

‘Oh. Right.’ Serena grinned as he started the bike. ‘Turn left and drive. The road follows the coastline. I’ll tell you when we’re there.’

‘That’s it?’ he said. ‘Those are the directions?’

‘They’re good, aren’t they?’ she said and settled back to enjoy the ride.

Serena took him to a secluded cove with white sand, clear blue water and a swimming cave she knew damn well he’d want to explore. Sure enough his eyes lit up when he saw it and he wasted no time stripping down to his board shorts. He wore clothes well, no denying it. But he wore next to no clothes better. He was all lean and sculpted muscle, not an ounce of fat on him. Sheer perfection, but for a thin, wicked-looking scar that started high on his back and headed up and over his left shoulder.