Suzanne bent to collect her clothes. ‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’
‘No shared shower, I take it?’
Her fingers stilled at the sudden graphic image, then shook slightly as she thrust first one arm into a sleeve of her shirt, then the other. ‘In your dreams, Sloane.’
“That’s the problem—they’re remarkably vivid.’ His voice was silk-soft and dangerous. ‘What about yours?’
Glorious Technicolor complete with sound and emotional effects.
Without a further word she turned and stepped quickly towards the path leading to their villa, uncaring whether he followed her or not, grateful that she’d had the foresight to pick up the duplicate key on their way out.
Inside she made straight for the upper level, collected fresh underwear and a silk robe, then entered the en suite.
She set the temperature dial to warm, stripped off her clothes, then stepped beneath the cascade of water.
Ten minutes later she emerged into the bedroom, a towel wound turban-fashion around her hair, to discover Sloane in the process of selecting casual trousers and shirt.
‘Finished?’
He’d discarded his shirt, if in fact he’d opted to put it on when leaving the pool area, and the cotton-knit shorts moulded firm-muscled buttocks, gave credence to the power of his manhood, and accentuated long, heavily muscled thighs. To say nothing of the exposed breadth of chest and shoulder.
Suzanne dragged her eyes away from him. ‘I need to use the hair-drier when you’re done.’ She crossed to the wardrobe and extracted an elegant trouser suit in deep aqua, added matching heeled sandals, and slowly expelled the breath she’d unconsciously held as she heard the en suite door close behind him.
Just when she thought she had a handle on which way he would move and when, he did the opposite. If she was of a suspicious mind, she could almost swear he was being deliberately unpredictable.
Suzanne discarded her robe, stepped into the trouser suit, then slid her feet into the sandals, and reached for her make-up bag, only to realise she’d left it in the bathroom earlier.
Damn. What would be Sloane’s reaction if she invaded his privacy? After all, it wouldn’t be anything new. They’d shared a lot more than a bathroom in the past. Except then the game had been love and they’d been unable to keep their hands off each other.
Whereas now... Now, it was an entirely different ball game. The rules had shifted, and both players had regrouped.
Almost ten minutes later Sloane emerged, showered and freshly shaven, a towel hitched low on his hips.
One eyebrow rose in silent query as he examined her bare complexion. ‘Too shy to share the bathroom with me, Suzanne?’
She wanted to hit him. ‘You allowed me sole use.’
His husky laughter brought a soft tinge of colour to her cheeks. ‘Only because you’d have fought me tooth and nail if I hadn’t.’ He reached for briefs, loosened the towel, and stepped into them. Trousers followed, and his eyes met hers as he slid home the zip fastener. ‘And there isn’t enough time to enjoy the fight.’ He reached for his shirt and shrugged into it. ‘Or its aftermath. If we’re to make dinner.’
Anger flared, deepening her colour to a rosy hue, and her eyes assumed the brilliance of dark sapphire. ‘There wouldn’t be an aftermath,’ she vouched with unaccustomed vehemence.
His gaze didn’t waver for endless seconds, then he conducted a slow, sweeping appraisal of her body.
Suzanne felt as if he touched her. Her skin tingled beneath his probing assessment, and her pulse leapt to a faster beat she was sure had to be visible at the base of her throat. Even her breath seemed to catch, and she had to make a conscious effort to prevent her chest from heaving in tell-tale evidence of his effect on her.
His eyes when they met hers again were dark, faintly mocking and held vague cynicism. ‘No?’
Sloane wondered if she knew just how appealing she looked with her hair all damply tousled, her cheeks flushed with an intriguing mix of temper and desire.
It made him want to tumble her down onto the bed and show her, prove that what they had together was good. Too good to allow anything or anyone to come between them.
Except afterwards she wouldn’t thank him for it, and only hate herself.
He wanted her. Dear heaven, how he wanted her. His body ached, painfully, with need. But he was after the long haul, not a short transitory ride.
Suzanne drew herself up to her full height and glared at him balefully. ‘If you think that sharing this villa, this bedroom, means I’ll agree to sex, then you can go to hell!’
Did she imagine he hadn’t been there? Ever since the evening he’d entered his apartment and discovered she had gone.
‘Go dry your hair, Suzanne. Then I’ll take a look at your hand.’
His voice was deceptively quiet, and didn’t fool her in the slightest. What she’d perceived as being a dangerous situation had just moved up a notch or two.
Five minutes with the hair-drier was sufficient, a further five took care of her make-up, then she emerged into the bedroom.
Sloane was waiting, standing at the full-length window, and he turned as she crossed the room.
‘I have some antiseptic in my wet-pack.’
‘It’s fine.’ She dismissed his offer, and her breath caught as he reached her side. ‘Really. There’s no need to play nurse.’
‘Humour me.’
‘This is ridiculous!’ Exasperation was a mild word for describing how she felt at being shepherded back into the bathroom, and having her hand examined and dabbed with anti-bacterial solution.
‘There. All done,’ Sloane said with satisfaction.
‘I could easily have done that myself!’ She wanted to hit him.
‘Don’t,’ he warned with dangerous softness, reading her mind.
‘Or you’ll do what?’ she flung, incensed.
‘Take all your fine anger,’ he threatened in a voice that was pure silk, ‘and ensure you expend it in a way you won’t forget.’
Her stomach executed a torturous somersault, and for a few endless seconds she forgot to breathe. ‘By displaying masculine strength and sexual superiority?’ She managed to keep her voice even. ‘I don’t find caveman tactics a turn-on.’
His eyes were dark, so impossibly dark she found them unfathomable. ‘Make no mistake, Suzanne,’ Sloane drawled with hateful cynicism. ‘There would be no need for coercion of any kind.’
Tension filled the room, an explosive, dangerous entity just waiting for the trigger to let a certain hell break loose.
With considerable effort she banked down her anger, then she turned towards him and marshalled her voice to an incredibly polite level. ‘Shall we leave?’
‘Wise, Suzanne,’ he taunted silkily.
How long would such wisdom last? she wondered with a sense of desperation. Sooner or later she was going to lose control of her temper. With every hour that passed she could feel the pressure of it building, and she hated him for deliberately stoking the fire.
They walked in silence to the main complex and joined Georgia and Trenton for a drink in the lounge before entering the restaurant
Dinner was a casual meal eaten alfresco on the terrace, their choice a selection of varied seafood with delicate accompanying sauces. They enjoyed salads, fresh bread brought daily onto the island, and they settled on fresh fruit from a selection of succulent pineapple, cantaloupe, sweet melon, and strawberries, served with a delightful lemon and lime sorbet, for dessert.
They declined coffee, and lingered over tall glasses containing deliciously cool piña colada.
‘We thought we might take a walk along the beach,’ Trenton declared. ‘Care to join us?’
And play gooseberry? ‘I’ve challenged Sloane to a game of tennis,’ Suzanne indicated, casting the source of that challenge a singularly sweet smile. ‘Haven’t I, darling?’
Sloane reached forward and brushed gentle fingers down the length of her bare arm. And smiled
as he glimpsed the way her eyes dilated in damnable reaction. ‘Indeed. I’ll even grant a handicap in your favour.’
‘How...’ she hesitated fractionally ‘...kind.’ She touched a hand to his, and summoned a doting look. ‘Especially when we both know you could run me off the court.’
He didn’t miss an opportunity, and his eyes were openly daring as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed each finger in turn.
‘We need to go change first.’
There was hardly any point in saying she’d changed her mind. ‘We should wait half an hour.’ Her eyes took on a wicked gleam. ‘Exercise so soon after a meal isn’t advisable.’ Her mouth curved into a winsome smile. ‘I don’t want you to collapse with a heart attack.’
Trenton laughed, and Georgia’s eyes twinkled as she rose to her feet. ‘I don’t think that’s likely, darling. Come for a walk with us. That’ll fill in some time.’
‘Sloane?’ Suzanne deferred to him, sparing him a level glance.
‘An excellent suggestion, Georgia.’ He stood and together they strolled along the path leading down to the beach.
Suzanne slipped off her sandals and held them in one hand, watching as Sloane followed her actions with his shoes, aware that Georgia and Trenton did the same.
It was a beautiful evening, the sky a deep indigo with a clear moon and a sprinkle of stars. The sort of night for lovers, Suzanne perceived as she stepped onto the sand and felt its firm crunch beneath her feet.
There wasn’t much she could do about the hard, masculine arm that curved along the back of her waist as they formed a foursome and began following the gentle curve of the bay.
‘Do you have everything ready for tomorrow, Mama?’ Suzanne queried, conscious of the man who walked at her side. The arm that bound her to him would tighten if she attempted to put some distance between them. For a moment she almost considered it, simply for the sake of enforcing her position, only to discard it as she thought of the consequences.
‘Yes.’ Georgia cast her a warm glance in the semidarkness. ‘Although I probably won’t sleep tonight as I go through everything again and again in my mind.’
‘I have a remedy for that,’ Trenton declared, and Georgia laughed.
‘Perhaps we’ll join you later for a game of tennis. How long do you intend to play?’
‘I’ll leave it up to Suzanne,’ Sloane drawled, and she turned towards him with a sweet smile that was lost in the fading light.
‘Passing the buck, darling? What if I’m feeling particularly energetic?’ As soon as the words left her mouth she wanted to curse herself for uttering them.
‘I think I can match you.’
In more ways than one. Silence, she decided, was golden. Something she intended to observe unless anyone asked her a specific question.
The ocean resembled a dark mass that merged with the sky. There were no visible lights, no silvery path reflected from a low-set moon. Tonight it rose high. a deer milk-white orb in the galaxy.
Suzanne felt the increased pressure of Sloane’s fingers at the edge of her waist, and a tiny spiral of sensation unfurled inside her stomach.
‘I think we’ll turn back,’ Sloane declared, drawing to a halt. ‘If we don’t see you on the court, we’ll meet for breakfast. Eight, or earlier?’
‘Eight,’ Trenton agreed. ‘Enjoy.’
As soon as they had progressed out of earshot Suzanne broke free from Sloane’s grasp. Lights were visible through the trees, and as they drew close the main complex came into view.
Within minutes they reached their villa, and indoors she quickly changed into shorts and a top, added socks and trainers, aware that Sloane was doing likewise.
Securing the court wasn’t a problem, because there were no other guests to compete with. The hiring of racquets and balls was achieved in minutes, and Suzanne preceded Sloane into the enclosure.
CHAPTER SIX
‘ONE set, or two?’
‘Two,’ Suzanne declared as she crossed the court and took up her position at its furthest end.
‘A practice rally first,’ Sloane called. ‘Best of three gets to serve. OK?’
‘Sure.’
He had the height, the strength and the expertise to defeat her with minimum effort. It was the measure of the man that he chose not to do so in the following hour as she returned one shot after another, won some, lost most, and while it was an uneven match she managed to finish with two games to her credit in the first set and three in the second. A concession, she was sure, that was as deliberate as it was diplomatic.
‘Your backhand has improved.’
Suzanne caught the towel he tossed her, and patted the faint film of sweat from her face and neck. He, damn him, didn’t show any visible sign of exertion. Not a drop of sweat, and he was breathing as evenly as if he’d just taken a leisurely walk in the park.
‘I expected your serve to singe the ball.’
Sloane’s eyes gleamed with latent humour. ‘Were you disappointed that it didn’t?’
Expending physical energy had been a good idea. The heat was there, but banked down to a level she could deal with.
‘You played as I expected you to,’ she responded sweetly, and waited a beat. ‘Like a gentleman.’
He rubbed the towel over the back of his neck, and sent her a musing smile. ‘Ah, a mark in my favour.’
‘Are we keeping score?’
‘Believe it’
Why did she get the instinctive feeling he had his own hidden agenda?
Her agenda was to survive the weekend with her emotions intact. His she could only guess at
‘Let’s get a drink from the bar, shall we?’ Sloane suggested smoothly.
A diversionary tactic which Suzanne let pass only because she was thirsty.
It was an unexpected surprise, and a welcome one, to see Georgia and Trenton seated comfortably at a table adjacent to the well-stocked bar. Surprise, because she’d thought not to see them again before breakfast, and the welcome part was a definite plus, for it meant she wasn’t alone with Sloane.
‘We thought we’d join you for a game of doubles,’ Georgia said as Suzanne slid into a seat at her mother’s side.
‘Georgia’s idea,’ Trenton drawled with amused resignation. ‘I had another form of exercise in mind.’
‘Don’t tease, darling. You’ll embarrass the children.’
Children? Suzanne looked at Georgia in keen surprise. Those beautiful eyes the colour of her own bore a faintly wicked gleam that promised much to the man seated at her side. Loving sex without artifice, a joyous sharing and caring.
Suzanne felt a lump rise in her throat at the latent emotion evident, and she took a generous sip from the tall glass of iced water a waiter had placed in front of her only moments before.
She risked a glance at Sloane and glimpsed his wry amusement. ‘The children, of course,’ she ventured conversationally, ‘are less likely to score a handsome win after expending their energy on court.’
Trenton sent her a devilish smile. ‘Georgia and I need any advantage we can get.’
‘So sharing a drink is seen as a five-minute break for refreshment?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Of course, we’re playing two sets?’
‘One,’ Trenton decreed.
‘In that case,’ Sloane drawled, collecting his racquet as he rose to his feet, ‘let’s get started.’
Father and son chose not to play competitively, and Georgia and Suzanne were fairly evenly matched. It was a lot of fun. Suzanne couldn’t remember ever seeing her mother appear so brilliantly alive, or so happy.
After an hour and a narrow win in Suzanne and Sloane’s favour, they exited the floodlit court and crossed to the lounge bar.
Trenton led the way, his arm curved round Georgia’s shoulders, and there was little Suzanne could do about the casual arm Sloane placed at her waist
‘A cool drink?’ Trenton suggested as they selected a table and sank down into individual chairs. ‘Or wo
uld you prefer an Irish coffee?’
It was after ten when Trenton and Georgia got to their feet.
‘We’ll see you at breakfast. Eight o’clock,’ Trenton said. He clasped Georgia’s hand in his and brought it up to his lips with a warm intimacy. Suzanne felt her heart flip with something she refused to acknowledge as envy.
‘Want to follow them, or stay here for a while?’
Suzanne spared Sloane a considering glance from beneath her long-fringed lashes. ‘We could take a walk in the moonlight.’
‘A delaying tactic, Suzanne?’
Her lashes swept upwards, and she regarded him with ill-concealed mockery. ‘How did you guess?’
‘Afraid?’ His voice was so quiet it sent shivers down her spine.
That was an understatement. But it was fear of herself that made her reluctant to be alone with him. ‘Yes.’
‘Such simple honesty,’ Sloane said with unmistakable indolence. He rose to his feet and extended his hand. It had been a long day. An even longer night lay ahead.
A swift retort rose to her lips, and remained unuttered. ‘It’s one of my more admirable traits.’ She wanted to take hold of his hand, feel it enclose her own, and bask in the warmth of his intimate smile. Yet to do so would amount to a fine madness of a kind she dared not afford.
‘One of many.’
She rose, ignored his outstretched hand, and skirted the table en route to the entrance. ‘Flattery will get you nowhere.’
He drew level with her. Try sincerity.’
She spared him a sideways glance, and chose not to comment. She quickened her step, and felt mildly irritated at the ease with which he lengthened his to match it.
They reached their villa, and inside she crossed the lounge and quickly trod the stairs to the bedroom. She paused only long enough to collect her nightshirt before entering the en suite, and carefully closed the door behind her.
A foolish, childish action that nevertheless afforded her a measure of satisfaction. Until it was time to emerge some ten minutes later, when all of the former fire had died and wary apprehension reposed in its place.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 198
