She pulled away from his hand, keeping her head lifted to avoid his touch. ‘Yes, it would, for me, anyway. I hate you. If there were any other way of keeping my job or getting another, I’d take it. But you’ve left me no choice.’
He shook his head in mild reproof, mocking laughter dancing in his grey gaze. ‘Eden, Eden, for someone who wormed her way into my life through deceit, you’re sometimes a very poor liar. Haven’t you heard of body language? While your lips are saying you hate me, your body is telling me the opposite.’
Horrified, she willed herself to stillness, dropping her hands to her sides, then realised she had given herself away yet again. ‘It isn’t true,’ she whispered. The denial sounded hollow even to her own ears. When he’d kissed her earlier, she had felt the fierce stirrings of desire even as she told herself she hated him. What sort of devil was he to wreak such havoc with her normally well-ordered feelings? What sort of woman was she to let it happen?
‘I see my point is well made,’ he observed with a sardonic smile. ‘You see, we are two of a kind, Eden. I don’t use people any more than you do. We simply make the most of our opportunities. Like the one facing us now.’
Her veins turned molten as heat raced through them, her heart beginning a frenetic tattoo. ‘I don’t...’
His finger slid down the side of her face in a feather-light caress which sent shock-waves rippling through her. ‘Yes, you do, Eden. Deny it all you like but you want what I can give you, what I’d be happy to give you. Don’t tell me the thought of a holiday romance never entered your head when you planned this trip?’
She lowered her lashes to hide the revelation in her eyes. She had considered the possibility, however fleetingly, but she’d dreamed of a Prince
Charming to share the delights of a tropical holiday. She had never envisioned someone like Slade Benedict, who demanded far more than she was prepared to give.
‘You’re wrong,’ she said with a decisive shake of her head. ‘It isn’t what I want at all.’
‘Of course not.’ His lips brushed her hairline. ‘Not this, nor this.’ He peppered kisses along the bridge of her nose. ‘Nor this.’
He captured her mouth with powerful possessiveness, silencing whatever protestations she might have made. To her horror, she could think of none as her senses reeled from the sheer eroticism of his kiss.
The carefully leashed passion in his touch left her vaguely dissatisfied, and she moved restively against him. Oh, God, he couldn’t be right about her, could he? The tendrils of desire coiling up through the centre of her being made her grip his shoulders in agonised acceptance that she did want more, much more.
He made a throaty noise of encouragement as her hands left his shoulders and linked around his neck, her fingernails digging into his flesh in response to the flames of need licking through her.
His hand cupped the small of her back, moulding her to the burgeoning power of his manhood. It was impossible not to be aware of the strength of his need for her, and the discovery convulsed her. She alone had the power to satisfy him now.
Now.
The one word with its transient overtones was enough to stem the rising tide within her. Now might be enough for Slade, but was it enough for her?
With a strangled cry, she pushed at his shoulders, aware of how close she had come to living up to his image of her. She wasn’t the ambitious little opportunist he thought she was, yet she had come within a heartbeat of behaving like one.
He sensed the change in her. ‘It’s all right, Eden. If I’m going too fast for you...’
‘It isn’t the speed, it’s the direction,’ she confessed miserably.
A frown darkened his features. ‘You can’t tell me you didn’t want me to make love to you.’
She throttled back a slightly hysterical laugh. ‘It wouldn’t be the truth if I did.’
‘Then you must know I wouldn’t put you at risk in any way.’
‘I know.’ She had never doubted that he would be a considerate lover, protecting her in every way possible. And she had been taking the Pill since her teens, as soon as she understood her mother’s illness.
It wasn’t those risks that terrified her. It was the moral risk of committing herself to Slade when he had made it clear that all he wanted was to give and receive pleasure, free of any commitment on either side.
‘I’m sorry, I just can’t,’ she said, unable to voice her reasons. Not that he would understand if she did. She could never be as cynical about love as he was.
Even though her future could never include a loving husband and children, however desperately she longed for them, neither could she settle for a purely physical relationship, which was all Slade was offering.
He had released her and she stepped away from him, feeling the need to return to his arms drag at her like actual bonds.
She had a feeling that he sensed her ambivalence, although he probably misunderstood it. ‘Are you sure, Eden? I’ll only be next door if you change your mind.’
‘I won’t,’ she said, resolve hardening in her although it did little to alleviate the pain of wanting him. ‘I’m afraid I’ll never be as blasé about love as you are.’
His amused laughter followed her all the way to her room, haunting her along with his barbed parting comment. ‘If I didn’t know your track record at work, Eden, I’d be tempted to believe you.’
By the time she reached the sanctuary of her bedroom she was shaking from head to foot. The nearness of her escape was still hard to accept. Harder to deal with was her own weakness. This sweeping sense of utter vulnerability was as novel as it was alarming. Against Slade’s skilled advances, her meagre defences were useless and, what was more damning, he knew it.
Colour flooded her cheeks as she thought about her unbridled response to his kisses. His shoulders were probably bruised where her fingers had dug into him. She had never behaved so wantonly before. How on earth was she to face him tomorrow, far less carry out the absurd charade that they were man and wife?
He would never allow her to renege on their bargain, she knew. So what was she to do? Still agonising, she changed into her nightie and brushed her hair until it shone. Setting the brush down, she contemplated packing and leaving the hotel before he awoke in the morning. But her return ticket was only valid for her original flights, and she had insufficient funds to pay the substantial difference.
There was only one alternative. She would play her part as agreed, somehow convincing Bob Hamilton that he had won the bet. Then she would insist that Slade put her on a return flight to Tasmania that very day. As far as his friends were concerned, she would be flying home to a sick relative who needed her. It was a flimsy excuse but the best she could think of for now.
One problem still remained. The atmosphere between her and Slade would be strained by what had occurred tonight. If they were to be at all convincing tomorrow, she felt bound to clear the air between them.
Slipping a matching kimono over her nightie, she tied the sash around herself, debating whether to take the time to dress again. It was inviting trouble to confront him in her nightwear after what had so nearly happened. He would think she had come to take up where they left off.
Was it what she wanted? Even now, was she rationalising her behaviour without being consciously aware of it?
A glance in the mirror showed that she was indeed taking a risk. Her colour was hectic and her hair flared in a tawny mane around her head, giving her a wild appearance. In an agony of indecision, she looked from the mirror to her clothes. Slade might be asleep himself by the time she was dressed again.
All she wanted to do was talk to him in a calm, rational manner, she told herself. He wasn’t a man who forced himself on to a woman. If she indicated by her demeanour that talk was all she sought, surely there wouldn’t be any problems?
Still, it took all of her courage to step out into the darkened living-room. A light shone under his bedroom door so he was still awake, for which she was thankful.
There was the sound of tinkling laughter then Dana’s sultry response. ‘I brought that nightcap I promised you.’
Not waiting to hear any more, Eden fled back to her own room. Frustrated by her, Slade had evidently sought solace elsewhere.
She should be grateful to Dana, she thought grimly. Except that the mutinous rage which flared through her didn’t feel like gratitude. Even knowing she was right about Slade’s attitude towards love was little consolation.
Later, as she tossed and turned in bed, the reason for her rage came slanting home. It wasn’t annoyance with Slade for turning to Dana, it was fear that he might be right about Eden’s own feelings towards him. If she stayed, how long would it be before she abandoned her principles and gave in to them?
CHAPTER FOUR
BREAKFAST was served smorgasbord-style beside the lagoon-sized freshwater pool but Eden had no appetite for the sumptuous spread. Butterflies danced in her stomach at the thought of the role she was about to play.
Butterflies? They felt more like World War Two Tiger Moths, she thought. Bob Hamilton was due to join them at any moment and she wasn’t nearly ready.
‘Cheer up, you’re supposed to be a radiant bride,’ Slade whispered into her ear. He looked a picture of strength and self-assurance. If only he had been her husband, she could have drawn her courage from him.
‘How long are we supposed to have been married?’ she asked, fighting a sense of panic. They hadn’t discussed anything of importance. What if Bob asked her a question she couldn’t answer?
‘Let’s say we’re newly-weds,’ Slade supplied, sensing her trepidation. ‘It will explain why we’re still getting to know each other.’
‘I might have known you’d have an answer for everything,’ she said bitterly. Judging by his clear-eyed confidence, he had slept well last night. Alone or with Dana Drury? her mind taunted.
His cool glance rested on her. ‘If something’s bothering you, Eden, you’d better come out with it before Bob gets here.’
‘It wouldn’t do to have him catch the newly-weds in the midst of a quarrel, would it?’ she returned.
Fingers of steel closed around her wrist and he drew her close to him across the table. ‘Something is bothering you. Out with it now.’
A tremor shook her as she met his unrelenting gaze. ‘You can’t order me around. I’m a liberated woman, too.’
He frowned and she imagined the wheels of his well-ordered mind turning as he placed the phrase. ‘Dana,’ he said with grim satisfaction. ‘You’re upset because she came to my room last night.’
She affected a wide-eyed carelessness. ‘Me, upset? Why should I care if my husband spent the night with another woman?’
His hard glare bored into her. ‘Yes, why should you care? Not that she did spend the night, as it happens.’
Not sure whether to believe him or not, she tried to twist free and found herself trapped, unable to escape his searching inspection. You started this, his look seemed to say. Now I’ll finish it.
‘I don’t care,’ she denied. ‘I wouldn’t even have known about it if I hadn’t wanted to talk to you last night.’
‘You intended to come to my room?’
‘To—to talk.’
‘So what changed your mind?’
Damn him. Why was he making this so hard for her? Did he want her to spell out what was obvious to both of them? ‘I heard Dana arrive. It didn’t seem opportune to interrupt your little tête-à-tête.’
He shrugged. ‘Pity you didn’t. You’d have interrupted a discussion about some educational videos the company is about to make with Dana as the presenter.’
‘You really expect me to believe that a beautiful woman like Dana came to your room last night to talk business?’
‘I don’t expect you to believe anything.’ His voice cut across her like a whiplash. ‘I remind you yet again that the role of wife is a fictitious one. It gives you no rights whatsoever over me.’
As if she needed reminding. ‘Thank heavens for small mercies,’ she breathed. He had just made it easier to broach the plan she’d hatched last night. ‘Since it is fictitious, I think it will be better if we don’t keep it up for longer than necessary,’ she ventured.
‘I suppose you have a solution to that, too?’ he drawled.
She toyed with the glass of orange juice in front of her. ‘As it happens, I do. After we satisfy your friend about our supposed marriage, I’d like to fly back to Tasmania, giving the excuse of a sick friend needing me.’
‘I should have known you’d be ready to twist the truth to suit yourself,’ he commented, his eyes dark with derision. ‘It is your preferred way of doing things.’
Why did he persist in misreading her motives? ‘It’s nothing of the sort,’ she snapped, unwilling to let him see how much it hurt to have him think so badly of her. ‘Since I can’t stop you, you’ll have to think what you like.’
‘As I usually do,’ he reminded her. ‘You really should try some of the prosciutto and melon. It’s excellent.’
She shot him a look which he should have no difficulty in interpreting as a wish that the food might choke him. Fruit juice and toast were all she could manage in her present state of mind.
Slade seemed to have no such problem. He had partaken liberally of the smorgasbord, which included hot and cold cooked food, a cornucopia of tropical fruits, every kind of baked goods, and an array of cereals.
The lanai where breakfast was served was framed by palms, tropical gardens and verdant creepers. The lagoon was crossed here and there by timber walkways and surrounded by potted palms. At any other time, and with anyone other than Slade, she would have felt as if she was in heaven.
As it was, his presence was a constant reminder of how unprepared she was to play her part. Not that she lacked examples if she cared to look around. The resort was popular with honeymooners, and they were easily spotted, being totally involved with one another. It was a far cry from the hostility which must surround the two of them like an aura.
‘Are you sure you won’t try some melon?’ he prompted yet again.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, I’ll try it if you insist.’ Anything to make him leave her alone.
To her astonishment, he leaned across and placed a segment of fruit nonchalantly between her lips. The touch of his fingers against her mouth was fleeting but jolted through her like a lightning bolt. With an effort, she swallowed the melon, although her throat felt arid, the gesture far too intimate for comfort. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘It’s what honeymooners do,’ he said mildly and held out another succulent mouthful. ‘Another piece?’
‘No—no, thank you.’ She was determined not to let him see how badly the gesture had shaken her. Her eyes blurred at the futility of it all.
‘Better,’ he said on a note of satisfaction. ‘Now you look much more like a dewy-eyed bride.’
She favoured him with the sweetest smile she could summon. ‘Go to hell.’
His eyes flashed answering fire. ‘Undoubtedly you could show me the way.’
Before she could summon a suitably scathing reply, a shadow fell across the table. Above them loomed the largest man she had ever seen. About six feet tall, he was built like a weight-lifter with a thatch of straw-blond hair which fell across vibrant blue eyes. ‘Slade, you devil, it’s good to see you again.’
A matching grin split Slade’s handsome features and he stood up to be enveloped in a bear hug. When they parted, he kept a hand on the big man’s shoulder. ‘Bob, I’d like you to meet someone very special—my wife, Eden. Eden Benedict, this is the famous Bob Hamilton.’
The shock of hearing her name coupled with his almost robbed her of speech. It was just as well that Bob Hamilton seemed equally taken aback. ‘Your what? Good God, man, why di
dn’t you tell me you’d finally tied the knot?’
‘We haven’t told anyone yet,’ Eden said when she could control her voice. At least it was the literal truth. ‘I’m delighted to meet you, Dr Hamilton.’
‘Bob, please. Any friend of Slade’s is practically family to me.’ He swung on Slade. ‘Your wife? I can’t believe it. You used to say you’d cut off your hand sooner than put a ring on it.’
Was Slade’s aversion to marriage so well-known? ‘People change,’ he said good-humouredly.
The big man pulled up a rattan chair which seemed barely large enough to contain him, and put a hand over Eden’s. ‘You must have something extraordinary to be able to land Slade Benedict. He’s about the most gun-shy man around. Or he was.’
‘Oh, she’s special all right,’ Slade surprised her by agreeing.
‘You could say I’m the only wife for him,’ she contributed, earning a frown of warning from Slade.
Bob gave a booming laugh. ‘You realise what this means, old buddy?’
Slade managed to look disappointed and pleased all at the same time. ‘I suppose I lose our bet.’
‘From the look of you two, it’s a bet you’re delighted to lose.’
Slade dropped a possessive arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. ‘I couldn’t be happier with the way it’s worked out, Bob.’
The embrace was for Bob’s sake, she recognised, but her heart insisted on picking up speed all the same. Breathing became a challenge as warmth from his arm seeped through her filmy cotton blouse. She should pull away or at least allow her tensed muscles to demonstrate her dislike of his touch, but instead she found herself leaning into his embrace, some deeper part of her reluctant to resist. His surprised look flickered to her face.
His husky laugh pierced her trance-like state and she slid free of his hold. ‘I don’t know about you two, but I’m going back to the smorgasbord,’ she announced, keeping her voice level with an effort.
‘Perhaps you could bring me some more of that melon,’ Slade suggested, his eyes challenging.
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