Powerful and Proud: Beneath the Veil of Paradise / In the Heat of the Spotlight / His Brand of Passion

‘Kind of like sex on a beach.’

‘Exactly. Both overrated.’ He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. ‘Look, let’s hit rewind on this evening. Go back on deck and forget this happened.’

‘Well,’ she said, sounding almost mischievous, ‘I don’t think I’m going to forget the sight of you naked in a hurry.’

Chase grinned. ‘Me neither, Scary. Me neither.’ Still smiling, he reached for her hand and felt a clean sweep of thankfulness when she took it. How bizarre that all that tension, anger and hurt had melted and reformed into something else. Something deeper and truer. Friendship.

‘I hope,’ Millie said as he led her from the cabin, ‘we’re not diving for dinner.’

‘Definitely not.’ He felt himself warm from the inside out, and he gave her hand a squeeze before helping her up the ladder.

* * *

Millie walked to the cushioned bench in the back of the boat on wobbly legs. She felt exhausted, both emotionally and physically, by the events of the day and especially the last hour. Chase Bryant was putting her through the wringer. Or maybe she was doing it to herself, by trying to have the desperate, mindless sex she’d thought she wanted until her body had rebelled and thrown up a whole lot of conch.

Chase was right, of course. It wasn’t the conch that had made her sick. It was the memories. She couldn’t turn her brain off, as much as she wanted to. Couldn’t stop remembering, regretting. She’d wanted to have this fling so she could forget, but it wasn’t happening that way at all. It was making things worse. Chase was opening up things inside her, stirring to life everything she’d wanted to be forgotten and buried, gone.

She watched as he set sail, part of her mind admiring the lean strength of his tanned, muscled body even as the rest whirled and spun in confusion. She hadn’t expected him to become so angry earlier. And she hadn’t expected him to be so understanding just then.

For a moment there on the bed, the cabin silent except for the draw and sigh of their own breathing, she’d actually wanted to tell him things. Confide all her confusion, sadness and guilt. But that would mean telling him about Rob. About Charlotte. And she never spoke about Charlotte. Even now the pain ripped through her, all too fresh even though it had been two years. Two years since the phone call that had torn her world apart, taken everyone she loved.

Shouldn’t two years be enough time for the scars to heal? To finally feel ready to move on?

She felt the cushion dip beneath her and blinked to see Chase sitting next to her. She’d been so lost in her own miserable thoughts she hadn’t seen him coming.

He touched her mouth and even now, after everything that had and hadn’t happened, she felt that quiver of awareness, the remnant of desire. ‘Scars, Scary. I’m serious.’

She let out a trembling little laugh. ‘It’s hard to stop something you’re not even aware you’re doing.’

‘What deep thoughts are making you bite your lip?’

‘They’re not particularly deep.’ She turned a little bit away from him, forcing him to drop his hand. ‘Are we heading back to the resort?’

‘No. To my villa.’

She turned back to him, felt a frisson of—what? Not fear. Not excitement. No, this felt strange and suddenly she knew why. She felt hope. Even after the absolute disaster below deck, Chase was giving her—them—a second chance.

‘What are we going to do there?’

He regarded her speculatively for a moment. ‘I’m going to cook for you while you soak in my jacuzzi. Then we’re going to eat the fantastic meal I’ve whipped up, watch a movie, maybe have a glass of wine. Or sparkling water, as the case may be.’

‘That sounds surprisingly relaxing.’

‘Glad you think so.’

‘And then?’

‘And then we’ll go to sleep in my very comfortable, king-sized bed and I’ll hold you all night long.’

He spoke breezily enough, yet Millie heard the heartfelt sincerity underneath the lightness, and she felt tears sting her eyes. She blinked hard.

‘Why are you being so nice to me?’

‘Hasn’t a man been nice to you before, Millie?’ He spoke quietly, as if he felt sad for her. She shook her head.

‘Don’t pity me, Chase. I’ve—I’ve had a perfectly fine relationship before.’

‘That sounds incredibly boring and unromantic, but OK. Good for you.’

She let out a trembling laugh. He never let up, but then neither did she. ‘This doesn’t sound very intense, though,’ she told him. ‘I thought this week was all about excitement.’

‘There are different kinds of intense. And I think a quiet evening at home will be intense enough for you.’

He rose from the bench and Millie watched as he steered the boat, one hand on the tiller. The wind ruffled his short hair, his eyes narrowed against the setting sun. He paused, his hand still on the tiller, to watch the glorious descent of that orb of fire towards the now-placid sea. Shock jolted through her because for a moment Chase looked like she felt. Desperate. Sad. Longing to hope.

Then he straightened his shoulders and turned back to her with a smile, all lightness restored. ‘Almost there.’

Half an hour later Millie was soaking in the most opulent tub she’d ever seen, huge, sunken and made of black marble. Chase had filled it right to the top with steaming water, half a bottle of bubble bath, and then left not one but two thick, fluffy towels on the side. Then with a smile and a salute he’d closed the door and gone to cook dinner.

When, Millie wondered, had she ever felt so incredibly pampered? So loved?

She froze, even in all that hot, fragrant water. Don’t even think that, she told herself. Don’t go there. The dreaded L-word. She’d loved Rob. She’d loved Charlotte. And here she was, two years later, heartbroken and alone.

She slipped beneath the foaming water and scrubbed the sand from her hair. The thoughts from her mind. She wanted to enjoy this evening, all the lovely things Chase had promised her. It had been so long since she’d had anything like this.

Since she’d felt anything like this.

Don’t think. One week. That was all they had, all she wanted to have. One week of enjoyment, of fun and, yes, of sex. Despite today’s disaster they could still have it. Enjoy it.

And then walk away. Move on, just like she wanted to, because anything else—anything real or lasting—was way too frightening. She’d loved once. Lost once. And it wasn’t going to happen again.

One week suited her perfectly. One intense, wonderful week.

When Millie came out of the bathroom she saw, to her surprise, her suitcase laid out by the bed. How on earth had Chase been able to get into her room and take her stuff?

The answer was obvious: he was a Bryant. For a little while there she’d forgotten; he’d just been Chase. Annoyance and affection warred within her. It was nice to have her clothes, but it was a little too thoughtful. Sighing, she discarded her towel and reached for one of the boring outfits her secretary had chosen, this one a beige linen dress with short sleeves and no shape. She glanced down at it and gave a grimace of disgust. She wished, suddenly and fiercely, that she owned something sexy.

But then she’d never owned anything sexy. She and Rob hadn’t been about sexy. Their sex life had been good enough, certainly, but they had both been so focused. There had been no time or inclination for sexy or silly or fun.

Everything that Chase was.

Was that why she’d chosen him for her first fling? Because, despite initial appearances, he was utterly unlike her husband?

Her thoughts felt too tangled to separate or understand. And maybe, like Chase said, she was over-thinking this. Straightening the boring dress, Millie headed out into the rest of the villa.

It was a gorgeous house, made of a natural stone that blended into its beach-side surroundings, the inside all soaring space and light. She found Chase in the gourmet kitchen that flowed seamlessly into the villa’s main living space with scattered leather sofas and a huge picture-window framing an expanse of sand and sky.

‘That smells delicious.’