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

Surely now...?

‘As enticing a prospect as that is, I think we’ll have breakfast first,’ Chase said, and Millie let out a huff of breath.

‘Stop reading my mind.’

‘It’s too easy. Every thought is reflected in your eyes.’

‘Not every thought,’ Millie objected. She knew she had some secrets and she wanted to keep it that way.

Didn’t she?

‘More than you think,’ Chase said softly, and he drew her towards him for a lingering kiss. It was the kind of kiss you had after you made love, slow and sated. It didn’t have the urgency she expected, that she felt. Because today was day three of her week’s holiday and since she’d met Chase time had started slipping by all too fast.

‘Soon,’ Chase murmured against her lips and she groaned.

‘Stop that.’

‘Actually, I think you kind of like it.’

She didn’t answer, because she knew he was right, even if the way he read her so easily was seriously annoying. She liked being known. ‘What are we doing today?’ she asked as she followed him out of the bedroom into the kitchen. Sunlight poured through the picture windows and Chase, still only wearing boxers, was reaching for the coffee grinder. Within seconds the wonderful aroma of freshly ground beans was wafting through the air.

‘I thought you could decide that,’ he said as he poured the ground beans into the coffee maker.

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you. You’re not just along for the ride, you know.’

‘I sort of thought I was. Your terms, remember?’

‘Exactly. And my terms state that today you decide what we do. Of course, I have the right to veto any and all suggestions.’

‘Oh, I see. Thanks for making that clear.’

‘No problem.’

What did she want to do today? As Chase got out fresh melon and papaya and began slicing both, Millie considered. What did she want to do with Chase?

‘I want to paint you.’

He paused, a mug in each hand, eyebrow arched. ‘Too bad your paints are in the rubbish bin, then.’

‘I can draw you,’ Millie said firmly, surprised by how certain she felt. ‘I brought charcoals too. They’re in my suitcase.’

‘So you’ve changed your mind about the painting thing?’

‘Technically I won’t be painting.’

‘You are such a literalist.’

‘Yes,’ Millie said quietly, and it felt like a confession. ‘I’ve changed my mind.’

Chase stared at her long and hard, and the moment unfurled, stretched between them into something that pulsed with both life and hope.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Breakfast, and then you can draw. I assume you’d prefer a nude model?’

She laughed and shook her head. ‘You can keep your boxers on. For now.’

After a breakfast of coffee, fresh fruit and eggs Chase scrambled while Millie sat at the table and imagined just how she would sketch him, she fetched her paper and charcoals and they headed outside.

The day was warm, the sun already hot, although a fresh breeze blew off the sea. Millie had changed into a polo shirt and capris, and Chase had, on her instruction, put on a tee-shirt and shorts.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me nude?’ he said, sounding disappointed, and Millie shook her head.

‘Far too distracting.’

‘Well, that’s something at least.’

‘Just try to act natural.’

He gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Whenever someone says that, you can’t act natural any more.’

‘Try.’

‘I bet you’re a real ball-breaker at work.’

‘That,’ Millie informed him, ‘is a horrible, sexist term.’

‘But you are, right?’ He positioned himself on the sand, hands stretched out behind him, legs in front. ‘This OK?’

‘Perfect.’ She found a comfortable spot just a little bit away and laid the sketch pad across her knees. After staring at Chase this morning, she realised how much she wanted to draw him, to capture the ease and joy of his body and face so she could remember it always.

So she could have something of him even when this week was over.

She swallowed, also realising just how much she was starting to care for him. Forty-eight hours—forty-eight intense hours—were changing how she felt. Changing her.

‘You going to put pencil to paper this time, Scary?’

‘Yes.’ Swallowing, she looked down at her paper, began to roughly sketch the shape of him.

‘So you haven’t been doing the art thing for a while,’ Chase remarked, gazing out to the sea so she should capture his profile. ‘Why did you stop?’

Millie hesitated. She knew she should remind him about the no-talking rule, but it seemed kind of pointless to keep at it now. She didn’t even want to. She could still control what she told him. ‘Life happened,’ she said. ‘I got too busy and drawing seemed kind of a silly pastime.’ And totally out of sync with her and Rob’s focused, career-driven lives.

‘And then you finally took a holiday and thought you might like to try again?’

‘Basically.’

‘So why did you throw out the paints when I first met you?’