Innocent Virgin, Wild Surrender

‘Hell, no.’ Matt shook his head, though his gaze barely acknowledged her. ‘This is a nighthawk. I had it done while I was at college. My father didn’t approve, but it was too late then to do anything about it.’ He grimaced. ‘Finish getting dressed. Then I’ll take you back to the hotel.’

‘Oh.’ Rachel let out a sigh. ‘Must we?’

Matt’s frown wasn’t encouraging. ‘Must we what?’

‘Go back,’ Rachel said, knowing he’d understood her the first time. ‘Look, I know I overreacted before, but that’s just me.’

‘Really?’

His frown deepened, but he didn’t immediately say anything else. Instead, to her amazement, he turned his back on her and pushed his wet boxers down his legs.

Rachel’s eyes widened. She’d been right. He was totally uninhibited. He didn’t care who saw him, or that she might find his behaviour offensive.

But she couldn’t deny he was good to look at. Wide shoulders tapered to narrow hips, his buttocks rounded and tight. And he was brown all over. No boring privacy line for him. As he used his shirt to dry himself again, Rachel found she was holding her breath.

She didn’t suck another gulp of air into her labouring lungs until he’d pulled on his cargo shorts. He wrung out the boxers he’d worn to swim in, and then put on the damp body shirt that clung even closer now. She could count the vertebrae in his spine, the neat lacing of muscles over his stomach. And then she realised, with a sense of frustration, that she hadn’t even begun to get dressed herself.

Fool, she thought impatiently. She was acting like a moonstruck schoolgirl. Heaven knew what her mother would think if she could see her now.

She fumbled beneath the towel, trying to dislodge the swimsuit. But her body was wet, the suit damp and clingy. She couldn’t help thinking how much easier it would be if she dared drop the towel and strip in front of him.

Of course she didn’t do any such thing. And to her relief Matt bent to gather up his shoes. With a supreme effort she managed to kick the swimsuit off her legs. It was fairly simple, after that, to step into her skirt and panties using the towel to protect her as she pulled on her tank top.

It was only as she was stuffing the damp towel into her backpack that she saw her bra still lying on the sand. She said a rude word under her breath, but it was too late to worry about it now. She stuffed it into the bag, too, suddenly aware that Matt had started away along the shoreline.

He glanced back when she straightened, however, and his timing was so perfect she had to wonder if he’d been as indifferent to her struggles as she’d believed.

‘Let’s walk,’ he said neutrally, apparently prepared to humour her. ‘If you can stand the heat.’

‘I think I can.’

Rachel slung the backpack over her shoulder and hurried to catch up with him. But when she came level he reached over and lifted the bag from her arm.

‘Leave it here,’ he said, dropping it onto the sand. He spread an all-encompassing arm. ‘No one’s likely to steal it.’ He pulled a wry face. ‘Except him, of course.’ He indicated the pelican, who looked poised for flight. ‘But I doubt he’d find one of my towels to his taste.’

Rachel glanced up at him. ‘I know. I shouldn’t have brought it.’

‘Did I say that?’

‘You didn’t have to. I feel guilty enough as it is.’

‘Forget it.’ He dismissed her claim. ‘What’s one towel or more between enemies?’

Rachel caught her breath. ‘Are we enemies, Mr Brody?’

‘Matt,’ he corrected her shortly. And then, ‘Well, we’re sure as hell not friends.’ He started to walk again. ‘Come on. Keep moving. Or you’re going to need to cover up.’

Which wasn’t his problem, thought Rachel, trying to distract herself. But if she wanted to stay with him she had to do as he said. And it was surprisingly pleasant, walking in the shallows, feeling the sand melting away between her toes.

They walked for a while in silence. Rachel had expected to feel uncomfortable after what he’d just said, but she didn’t. In actual fact she enjoyed the sense of isolation, with only the cry of birds and the muted thunder of the ocean to disturb the peace.

And then he asked the question she’d been dreading.

‘Why did you come to St Antoine, Ms Claiborne?’

Chapter Four

MATT had halted and Rachel was forced to do the same.

She took a breath. ‘My name’s Rachel, as I’m sure you know.’

‘Okay.’ He was tolerant. ‘Why did you come to St Antoine, Rachel?’

She couldn’t tell him. Not like this. Not so baldly. She just couldn’t.

‘Um—why do people usually come to the island?’ she prevaricated lightly. ‘I needed a break and St Antoine seemed an ideal place to chill.’

‘To chill?’

Sceptical eyes drifted down over the defensive angle of her jaw to the creamy hollow of her throat.

And beyond.

Rachel was instantly aware of the disadvantages of not wearing a bra when his eyes lingered on her cleavage. The hard peaks of her breasts must be clearly visible, taut against the soft fabric of her top. And, short of covering them with her hands, there was nothing she could do about it.

‘You should have gone to the South Pole,’ he remarked mockingly. ‘I’m told it’s pretty chilly there.’

Rachel’s nostrils flared. ‘I think you know what I meant.’

‘Yeah.’

He conceded the point and started walking again. And Rachel was so relieved to be free of those scathing eyes she fell into step beside him.

But he wasn’t finished.

‘That doesn’t really explain why you chose this island,’ he persisted. ‘I mean, we’re not exactly on the tourist map.’

‘You get tourists here.’

‘They’re often recommendations,’ Matt informed her smoothly. ‘And usually from the States.’

Rachel managed a short laugh. ‘You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think that you didn’t welcome new visitors, Mr Brody. If all your guests are subjected to this inquisition.’

‘Matt.’ He stopped again, his voice hardening with impatience. ‘And they’re not.’

‘Oh.’ Rachel made a moue of her lips. ‘Well, I’m here now.’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry if I’m in the way.’

Matt studied her apparently innocent expression for another long disturbing moment, and then made a chopping movement with his hand.