He rose smoothly from where he was sitting and headed towards her.
Mia paused fractionally. She’d made her excuses with breakfast, having decided to take time out to remind herself that they were here for business, not pleasure.
Sadly, the very second she clapped eyes on him her heart skipped a beat, her mouth went dry and her eyes became nailed to his face.
Surely she couldn’t be falling for this guy? Surely common sense would have prevented that? And yet there was an unescapable awareness that something inside her was being handed over to him… Surely it couldn’t be her heart?
She gave a rictus smile and indicated her foot.
Keep it casual. Polite conversation whenever you’re not talking about work-related matters…
‘So much better,’ she said when she was in front of him. ‘I still have the crutch, but you were right. It was just an uncomfortable sprain. Probably not even that. Anyway, definitely on the mend! I took a couple of tablets first thing and I can almost walk on it.’
‘Excellent news,’ he murmured.
‘Have you got an itemised plan for how the day is going to play out?’
‘I certainly have.’
Mia, waiting for clarification, was disconcerted when he cupped her elbow and began gently ushering her away from the revolving glass door that led outside.
‘Where are we going?’ She looked behind her with consternation as he continued to guide her back into the hotel.
‘You were uncomfortable with what you were wearing in the bar,’ he said. ‘You’re not going to feel any more comfortable in the restaurant tonight.’
‘Wh-why would I be in the restaurant?’ Mia stuttered on a tide of rising panic.
‘Where else do you plan on eating?’
‘Out! After work…after five…having a look around…’
‘Exploring an island on a crutch isn’t the cleverest of ideas, is it?’
‘It’s on the mend!’
‘And that’s exactly how we want to keep it! Don’t forget, you’re here to do a job, and that job is going to be considerably easier if you can walk comfortably on that foot of yours—and hours outside in the baking heat, trying to find places to eat while hobbling from one café to another, just isn’t going to do. I need you to be up and moving as fast as possible.’
Mia scowled.
‘You still haven’t explained…’
‘Here we are,’ he said with notable satisfaction.
It was a measure of how absorbed she was with him that she only belatedly registered that he was guiding her gently but firmly towards the bank of expensive shops nestled in the heart of the hotel.
Mia had no idea what was going on and she certainly wasn’t about to be led anywhere like a sheep. ‘Here where?’ she questioned politely. ‘I’m seeing a shop.’
‘You didn’t feel comfortable in the clothes you brought with you—’ he shrugged expansively ‘—so we’re going to change that.’
‘Please don’t tell me what I will and won’t be doing!’
‘A handful of outfits.’ He shrugged. ‘Pick what you like.’
‘I don’t need a handful of outfits!’
‘And I don’t need to be the object of avid curiosity because you’re making a scene.’
Mia’s eyes slid to where two elegant saleswomen were watching their antics, although they immediately averted their eyes when spotted.
Where Max could brush off that sort of thing, because he honestly didn’t give a damn, she couldn’t. She hadn’t been raised that way. Other people’s opinions mattered to her.
‘This is ridiculous.’ She tried to make her protest as cool and collected as possible. ‘Furthermore, I can’t afford anything from a place like this.’
‘Do you imagine for a single second that I would allow you to pay for anything from this place? You’re here because of me and I intend to cover all the costs.’
Their eyes met and held for a few seconds. There was no way she could express what she felt. How could she articulate that? That choosing clothes to have dinner with him felt dangerously intimate?
‘Don’t fight me on this, Mia.’
Mia glanced towards the elegant boutique and made a decision. ‘Fine.’ She shrugged and looked at him squarely. ‘If you think it’s necessary for me to have a new wardrobe, then I’ll get a new wardrobe, but I’m a big girl and perfectly capable of choosing my own clothes. So, if you want to arrange a time and a place to meet, I can join you later.’
She pulled out her phone to check the time, crisply arranged when to meet and watched as he raked his fingers through his hair before nodding wryly.
It was an experience, what could be done with a bottomless bank account in a very expensive boutique. Mia was hardly aware of what was being chosen because the eager shop owner, having marvelled at her figure, proceeded to turn her into a mannequin for the next hour. At last, dazed, Mia was standing in front of an array of black and gold bags, that conveniently would be sent to her room so she didn’t have the bother of carrying anything, and wondering what, exactly, she had purchased in the flurry of things being tried on.
‘How was the torture chamber?’ were Max’s first words when she met him at the designated place.
‘It was fine!’ Mia said. She knew that she had been dragged way out of her comfort zone. In her world of surfing, landscaping and working in the open air, she had been able to shun fancy, girly-girl clothes, faintly scorning the preoccupation of the prom queen types who only cared about how they looked.
She was forced to concede that she had actually enjoyed the experience, and even more so when she guiltily thought of him looking at her in her new-fangled get-ups. Surely she couldn’t be that shallow?
They settled into the back of the car he had commissioned for his personal use as and when. The scenery they looked at as they drove along the uncrowded roads was scenery that was in her blood. Overhanging trees, lush and in colours of every shade of green, over-sized bushes awash with purple and red flowers, fringing the road in bursts of vibrant colour. It rained a lot on this island, she explained, hence the lushness of the foliage.
The driver was an expert tour guide, who could name every tree and flower, and Mia found herself competing with him about who knew more, even though she was still so aware of Max sprawled beside her.
They crossed one-way bridges and they opened the windows, breathing in the warm breeze. He asked a lot of questions, and it was just as well, because it established a bit of normality between them after his earlier provocative remarks.
If only she could truly relax! She had been to the island many times and she directed them to the Halfway to Hana café, where they indulged in banana bread and shave ice. It was on a busy beach, with lots of noise and music. She vaguely remembered feeling smug at the thought of him in surroundings just like this—sitting in a hot café and being jostled on all sides, informal and brash, with loud music and lots of people and food to be eaten without knives and forks. Yet, when she looked at him, he couldn’t have appeared more at ease in his surroundings.
She heard herself jabbering away about all manner of things throughout the course of the day, and it was blessed relief when at last they were back at the hotel at a little after four.
‘Meet me at seven,’ he told her, naming one of the fancy restaurants in the hotel as she was about to head to the lift, leaving him behind. There were few minutes in the day when he wasn’t working and the day’s outing had taken up quite a few of those precious minutes.
Back in her hotel room, she forgot what she’d hastily picked in the boutique. She pulled out the assortment of clothes and it was almost as though she was seeing most of them for the first time.
Her hand hovered over a dark blue shift…and then veered away to something smaller and more figure-hugging in just the sort of bold pattern she wouldn’t usu
ally wear…but loved the look of.
She used to wear dresses like that…
Back in the day. Before, she suddenly realised, a broken marriage had instilled a level of reserve she never really used to have.
Once upon a time, she used to laugh a lot more, wear brightly coloured clothes and let her hair lie long and loose over her shoulders and down her back.
Suddenly pierced with nostalgia, she stuck on the dress and looked at herself in the mirror, and was startled when someone much younger looked back at her.
Where had that girl gone and how had she not noticed her absence?
Mia made her way down to the restaurant. She carried the crutch, but she didn’t really need it, and she almost regretted having brought it along because it felt like a prop.
The restaurant was small and intimate, and yet busy. Waiters buzzed around with huge circular trays. The atmosphere was casual, but nothing could quite disguise the fact that it was a mega-expensive venue. There was something about the tasteful pale green of the walls, the soft, faded silk rugs underfoot, the crisp white linen of the table cloths and the mellow lighting…
She saw him as instantly as she’d seen him in the bar the evening before. This time, he was dressed more formally in a white, short-sleeved shirt and a pair of charcoal-grey trousers. He looked so heart-stoppingly masculine that she faltered for a few seconds and then powered on.
Max had managed to secure the perfect table in a corner of the room, and he watched her progress with a veiled expression. He’d been waiting for fifteen minutes in a state of keen anticipation that was uncool, to say the least.
Why the hell was he playing with fire? Since when had that been a recommended game for a guy who exerted such control over every aspect of his life?
But today it had been torture, being with her for hours, breathing in her fresh, floral scent, his eyes stubbornly lingering on her startlingly pretty face.
He had given up trying to rein in his imagination.
He wanted her. It was something he couldn’t quite explain to himself.
Maybe if he hadn’t sensed that chemistry between them, hadn’t tasted the softness of her mouth or watched the hungry flick of her eyes when she thought she was unnoticed… But he had and it fired him in ways that were shocking.
Now, watching, he felt the hot rush of blood heavy in his veins.
She was wearing a dress and it was the first time he’d seen her in one.
She looked so…delectable. He breathed in slowly, taming his body. He didn’t play games when it came to women but now…this…felt like a game, a dangerous game, and he couldn’t wait for the starting gun to be fired.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AFTERWARDS, MIA WAS hard-pressed to figure out just when the atmosphere between them had shifted.
The dress had done something for sure, flicked a switch in her head, because as she walked towards him, barely using the crutch at all, she felt like a million dollars. The brush of cool silk against her skin was seductive. And then his eyes…veiled and hooded…as he watched her get closer.
The food was amazing and there was champagne.
And the conversation was so work-orientated as he plied her with questions about bits of the island they hadn’t got round to seeing. They discussed the various financing avenues for some of the plans his sister had begun to put in place. They worked out what would make sense and what wouldn’t. More champagne was poured. He all but brought out his laptop so that they could study costs and projected revenues.
It was a conversation that should have relaxed her, because it reinforced the status quo between them without her having to remind herself of it every five seconds.
But behind the affable exchange of ideas, and discussion of timetables and supply chains, there was the steady pulse of something else, something she glimpsed just like a shadow, when she felt the brush of his knee against hers under the table or caught the glitter of guarded amusement in his eyes and in the curve of his mouth.
Another conversation was being had under the surface and it was exciting.
She liked it. She liked the fizz of the champagne, the fizz of excitement running through her veins, the quiet, casual elegance of their surroundings and the shiver of not quite knowing what was going to happen when the evening drew to an end.
As it was doing now. They floated from the restaurant to the bank of lifts, purring up to their floor.
‘So…’ Max drawled, staring at the brushed steel of the lift door. ‘What do you think of the accommodation?’
‘My room?’
‘Like it?’ He shifted to glance over at her.
‘It’s the nicest hotel room I’ve ever stayed in—not that there have been very many. Of course, when it comes to delivering on the sort of atmosphere Izzy had in mind for—’
‘I’m not interested in talking about my sister or what she happened to have in mind.’
‘I just thought…’ The doors pinged open and here they were, in the wide marble and walnut corridor leading to their adjoining rooms.
‘We’ve spent the past two hours talking about work,’ Max murmured. ‘We now have two minutes before we reach our rooms to talk about what we both really wanted to talk about over that dinner.’
Mia’s heart sped up. She wasn’t looking at him, but she could feel him with every pore in her body. Then their eyes met and held. She had a choice to make. A fierce longing tore into her, and as it did common sense and prudence, two of her loyal companions when it came to her emotions, began to shrivel under the hot glare of her simmering excitement.
She was young! Didn’t she deserve to have a bit of reckless fun for once in her life?
She had never anticipated this sledgehammer kind of lust, but here she was, and what was she going to gain by denying it?
Mr Right had yet to come along but why not enjoy Mr Wrong? Mr Wrong would be fun!
‘Maybe we could have a nightcap…or something…’ she murmured and just like that she jumped off the side of the precipice.
Max gazed down at her averted face and clenched his hands as every dream and longing he’d ever had seemed to coalesce in this single moment.
Jesus, how could he ever have underestimated the power of desire?
He wanted to take her right here and right now, push her against the door and do what both their bodies wanted them to do.
He might have done if there’d been the slightest chance of privacy. Instead, he curled his fingers into her hair and lowered his head and stifled a groan of absolute pleasure as his mouth covered hers. He shifted his big body against her, felt her slenderness curve into him, and a syringeful of adrenaline couldn’t have had a more dramatic effect on his already soaring libido.
‘We have to get out of here,’ he groaned thickly, pausing only to step back an inch.
He didn’t give her time to answer, instead simultaneously flipping out the key card and lifting her off her feet.
The crutch fell to the ground, but he ignored it as he carried her caveman-style into his bedroom, which was shrouded in silvery light.
He liked that, liked seeing her—liked even more the thought of seeing her with nothing on, of satisfying the curiosity that had been burning in his blood since he had first laid eyes on her.
He hadn’t known how the evening was going to end. He’d hoped, but she was an unpredictable entity, quite unlike the women he was accustomed to. He had made sure to contain the conversation, to keep it in safe territory. Pride had dictated that he not make a blatant pass at her, but that had all gone down the drain as they’d headed to their bedrooms.
He’d been able to keep his desire at bay so far. He’d wanted to play it cool—hadn’t happened.
She was on his bed, just where he’d dreamed of her being. The dress was still on, but the shoes were off, and the way she was watching him, half-shy, half-bold and p
lenty hungry, made him cup his hardness, controlling it through his trousers.
He breathed in deeply and half closed his eyes, hunting around for his self-control which had gone AWOL.
Then he began to undress.
Mia watched in downright fascination, mouth parted, nostrils flared. She was so wet between her legs that she had to control an irresistible urge to touch herself, to satisfy the tickling there.
He was wearing navy boxers and her eyes were riveted to the impressive bulge distorting them.
Her breath hitched as those boxers dropped to the ground, and she shuddered and closed her eyes, parted her legs as the mattress depressed under the weight of him.
‘I want you so badly,’ he groaned, straddling her.
Mia could only stumble out a thick, ‘Same…’ and then he was reaching under the dress and tugging down her panties, and she couldn’t get them off fast enough.
His mouth ravaged hers and she writhed under him, trembling, hot and aflame. He’d taken protection from his wallet, and he was fumbling to rip the foil pack open, but then he was over her once again.
Her blunt nails dug into his back as he pushed apart her legs and drove into her, fierce and deep, filling her and… God, it felt so wonderful.
Nothing in her life had ever warned her that her body could feel like this. Her brain shut down and she could hear herself cry out, a high, rasping sob as she came, soaring, soaring and splintering into molten hot orgasm.
Afterwards she lay still, breathing hard, utterly spent.
Her body was cool as he rolled off her, but then he manoeuvred her onto her side so that they were facing one another, belly to belly, her leg draped over his, her arm resting lightly on his waist.
It felt so natural.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and she frowned. ‘You still have your dress on. I… It’s not like me at all…’
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