Innocent Virgin, Wild Surrender

Matt cast a fleeting glance in her direction, before agreeing that this was a pretty part of the island. ‘Mango Cove,’ he said after a moment. ‘St Antoine is reputedly one of a series of peaks from an underwater mountain range. Jamaica is another.’

‘Really?’

Rachel was fascinated, and Matt went on to explain that the Spaniards had first settled here at the beginning of the sixteenth century. ‘Then, when Jamaica became a British colony, they ignored this island and it was later taken over by the French. San Antonio became St Antoine. End of story.’

Rachel shook her head. ‘I can’t understand anyone not wanting to hold on to such a beautiful place,’ she protested.

‘Economics, I suppose.’ They’d reached a bluff above the sand dunes and Matt brought the Jeep to a halt overlooking the bay. ‘Jamaica offered so much, whereas this place must have appeared to offer so little.’ He pulled a wry face. ‘Hey, I’m grateful. At least St Antoine isn’t overrun with beach resorts and hotels.’

Rachel half turned in her seat to look at him. ‘The taxi driver told me that—that the Brodys own most of the island. That would be you, right?’

Matt pulled off his dark glasses to look at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Now, why would a taxi driver tell you something like that?’ he asked, and for a moment Rachel didn’t have an answer.

She was certainly not prepared to confront him about her mother at the moment. When—or even if—she did so, she would hope it was in a place less isolated than this. But at the same time she had to say something. Even if he must suspect her motives just as much as she suspected his.

‘I—er—I was asking him about the plots of land around the houses. I said I thought they were cute, but he said the tenants didn’t own them. That—that the Brodys did.’

‘Really?’ Matt looked sceptical. ‘Well, for your information, the island people do own their own plots of land.’ He gave her one final speculative glance and then thrust open his door. ‘We encourage people to be self-sufficient.’ His lips twisted. ‘Your taxi driver got it wrong.’

‘So it would seem.’ Rachel kept a wary eye on him as he got out of the Jeep. Then, pushing open her own door, she did likewise, feeling the heat of the sun on her arms and the delicious breeze off the water.

Matt pushed his glasses back onto his nose and went ahead of her. Slipping and sliding, he descended the dunes to arrive unscathed at the beach.

He turned then. ‘You coming?’ he asked, and Rachel decided she didn’t have much choice. Besides, she wanted to paddle in the water. Her feet were already itching to feel the sand between her toes.

Hauling her backpack out of the back of the Jeep, she removed the flip-flops and then followed him. It wasn’t as easy going down the dunes as he’d made it look, and she arrived at the bottom dishevelled and red-faced.

Thankfully, Matt had already walked away towards the water. And, putting down her pack, she combed her fingers through her hair again, realising that trying to look neat at the moment was far beyond her capabilities.

Shouldering the pack again, she started after him, and then paused for a second to examine a huge pink shell that was honeycombed with cracks. Evidently something had lived inside it once, but its sanctuary had been invaded. Or perhaps it was very old and had been eroded by the sea.

The sun was beginning to beat down on her head now, as well as on her shoulders. When she straightened, she lifted a hand to protect her scalp.

‘You hot now?’

Her interest in the shell had not gone unnoticed, and Matt had made his way back to her. Like her, he’d shed the Converse trainers he’d been wearing, tying the laces together and hanging them round his neck.

‘A bit,’ Rachel admitted, and Matt nodded towards the sea.

‘Take a dip,’ he advised. ‘That will cool you down. You might even enjoy it.’

Rachel pursed her lips. ‘How do you know I’ve brought a swimsuit?’

Matt pulled off his glasses again, his eyes mocking and intent. ‘Hey, I’m not a prude,’ he said. ‘We can go skinny-dipping, if you like. I’m game if you are.’

Why did he always have the power to embarrass her? As her face flamed with colour, Rachel hoped it would just blend in with the flush that already stained her cheeks.

‘I know you’re not serious,’ she said primly, although she was half afraid he was. ‘But I have brought a swimsuit, as it happens. If you’ll look the other way, I’ll put it on.’

Matt’s mouth showed his amusement. ‘Now who’s a prude?’ he asked. ‘I can’t believe you’ve never undressed in front of a man before.’

As a matter of fact she hadn’t, but Rachel wasn’t about to tell him that. ‘Just turn the other way,’ she said tersely. ‘I’m not about to undress in front of a man I barely know.’

‘Your loss.’

But to her relief he did turn his back and saunter away towards the ocean. Though her deliverance was tempered with disbelief when he hauled his shirt over his head and flung it down on the sand. Then his hands went to the waistband of his shorts.

Rachel’s mouth fell open and she paused in the middle of unbuttoning her skirt. What on earth was he doing? she wondered. And then let out a gasp when he dropped his shorts as well.

He was wearing underwear.

Rachel relaxed a little when she saw black shorts. She’d been half afraid he went commando. But, dear God, what would her mother think? she mused, dumbfounded. Did she know he flirted with other women when she wasn’t around?

And yet he hadn’t actually flirted with her, she conceded honestly, stripping off her skirt and panties, pulling her swimsuit over her hips. It wasn’t his fault that she reacted to him. He was just naturally unconventional, naturally uninhibited, the kind of man Rachel had never had dealings with before.

Her tank top and bra were quickly disposed of, and she expelled another sigh when the top of the swimsuit was securely in place. Okay, it was strapless, and probably not the most appropriate choice in these circumstances. But she’d change back into her clothes as soon as she’d had a swim.

Matt was already in the water, the sea lapping about his hips. His tattoo was fully exposed now, wrapped darkly around his upper arm. She noticed how brown his skin was above his black waistband, smooth and unblemished. He had narrow hips and strong thighs and a tight muscled butt.

Dear Lord, she wasn’t supposed to notice such things, not about a man who was apparently involved with her mother. But, for some reason she preferred not to dwell on, she was incapable of ignoring him, or his hard masculine beauty.

Choosing a spot some yards from where Matt had entered the water, Rachel dragged her eyes away from her tormentor and ran eagerly into the sea. It was so good to submerge her shoulders, to dip her head below the surface, to come up feeling exhilarated just to be alive.

The land shelved fairly steeply, she discovered, and in no time at all she was out of her depth. But that didn’t worry her. She was a strong swimmer, and the water itself was so warm and soft and delightful. Whatever else she took from this trip, she would always remember swimming in the Caribbean.

She’d been half afraid that as soon as she was in the water Matt would join her. Or was that half hopeful? she wondered, aware of something like disappointment when he kept away. He was some distance further out, turned onto his back and floating on the water. A dark star-shaped figure that attracted her like a magnet.

She couldn’t help herself. She swam towards him and said breathlessly, ‘Isn’t it marvellous? I’ve never swum in water as clear as this.’ She’d already noticed dozens of tiny fish swimming beneath her. ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’

‘No problem.’

With knife-like grace, Matt brought his legs up to his body and then straightened to tread water beside her. He’d left his dark glasses on the beach, as she had, and his eyes were unmistakably sardonic.

‘I got the impression you wished you hadn’t accepted my invitation,’ he said, reaching out to wipe a strand of wet hair from her face. He saw her flinch and his expression hardened. ‘Lighten up, can’t you? Or do you think every man who touches you wants to jump your bones?’

‘I’m sure you don’t, Mr Brody,’ she retorted, her enjoyment of the day souring on the bitterness of his words. Without waiting for his response, she turned and swam back towards the shore. He was impossible, she thought irritably. He turned everything into a personal assault.

Matt overtook her before she reached the shallows, so she was obliged to follow him as he walked up out of the water. But she found her stomach tightening instinctively when she got a good look at his underwear. He was wearing black stretch boxers that clung to him like a second skin.

He turned, picking up his body shirt and using it to dry his chest and stomach. As before, he didn’t seem to care what she thought of his behaviour, but Rachel was finding it very hard to drag her eyes away. It infuriated her, but she found everything about him unbearably sexy. She was beginning to understand why the girls in the office gossiped constantly about their sexual experiences.

The bravado of bringing one of the hotel towels seemed unnecessary now. Rachel felt distinctly guilty when she pulled the towel out of her backpack. But Matt wasn’t looking at her. As he continued to rub his chest and arms, his attention seemed fixed on a large bird foraging among debris further along the sand.

Rachel couldn’t help herself. Wrapping the towel about her, she exclaimed, ‘What is that?’

‘A pelican.’ Matt sounded indifferent. ‘It’s evidently found something to eat amongst the seaweed. This beach is usually deserted. I guess it thought it wouldn’t be disturbed.’

‘A pelican.’ Rachel shook her head in wonder. ‘I’ve never seen a pelican before.’ She looked at Matt. ‘Is that what you’ve got tattooed on your arm?’