Australia Wicked Mistresses
Fired Waitress,
Hired Mistress
Robyn
Grady
His Mistress for a Million
Trish
Morey
Friday Night Mistress
Jan
Colley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Fired Waitress, Hired Mistress

About the Author

One Christmas long ago, ROBYN GRADY received a book from her big sister and immediately fell in love with Cinderella. Sprinklings of magic, deepest wishes come true—she was hooked! Picture books with glass slippers later gave way to romance novels and, more recently, the real-life dream of writing for Mills & Boon.

After a fifteen-year career in television, Robyn met her own modern-day hero. They live on Australia’s Sunshine Coast with their three little princesses two poodles, and a cat called Tinkie. Robyn loves new shoes, worn jeans, lunches at Moffat Beach and hanging out with her friends on eHarlequin. Learn about her latest releases at www.robyngrady.com, and don’t forget to say hi. She’d love to hear from you!

This one’s for the mega-talented ‘209ers RWA Bootcamp’ gals! Thanks Rachel, Alison and Nikki, for organising a great couple of days. Onward and upward, ladies!

With thanks, as always, to my fab editor Kimberley Young for helping to bring out the best in my work.

CHAPTER ONE

FROM the moment Nina Petrelle opened her eyes, she was painfully aware of three things.

One: she had a pounding great bump on the back of her head. Two: her ankle was stuck in what felt like a soggy, splintered vice. Three: cool, salty water was lapping the length of her prostrate body … was filling her mouth and her lungs.

Choking on seawater, Nina came fully to. She sat bolt upright and, an instant later, yelped in hair-raising agony. Gritting her teeth, she clutched at her thigh. When the red-tipped arrows firing up her shin gradually eased, Nina withered back down.

But she wouldn’t give in to the tears. Damned if she would. Instead Nina thumped both fists hard against the sand.

Little by little over the last two months she’d felt tiny pieces of herself falling away. The sense that she was losing the battle kept rubbing and chipping at her strength until this afternoon, after a gruelling shift, she’d fixed her heart upon escape. But what she’d truly wanted to leave behind—the question she didn’t want to face—had followed her.

Lately it had haunted her.

Who am I?

She didn’t know any more.

Once life had shone out before her like a glittering golden path. Her father had owned a highly successful engineering firm and, growing up, she’d thought nothing of her family’s numerous house staff, nor her expectations of having the best clothes, the best food—the best of everything. Of course that had been before her father had died, her manic mother had stripped the family coffers clean and her usually responsible kid sister had got pregnant by a deadbeat who hadn’t hung around.

While her mother had gone into a tailspin, Nina had pulled up her sleeves. After completing her university degree, she’d landed a job in publishing—a fast-paced, intense world she adored. Until recently she’d worked as the features editor for an acclaimed teen magazine, Shimmer.

Then the blunt axe had fallen.

Along with a number of other staff she’d been retrenched. With a sizeable mortgage, and other commitments, she’d needed a job, but well-paid positions weren’t so easy to come by, particularly in her field. With everyone tightening their belts, the shrivelled industry grapevine was as quiet as a church.

One morning, while prioritising her mounting bills, a long-time friend had called. Alice Sully’s family owned a travel agency and, if Nina was desperate, her dad could wangle her a stint working on an exclusive holiday retreat; he knew the owner. Waitressing hours there would be long, Alice had warned her, but the money was great.

Slumping with relief, Nina had accepted, and these past six weeks she’d worked her butt off at Diamond Shores, Australia’s premier Great Barrier Reef resort.

And not one moment went by when she didn’t wish herself back home.

Most of the other staff had let her know they weren’t happy that she’d swung a ticket here via the back door. A job at what many considered Australia’s holiday Mecca was supposed to be hard-won, and two years helping part-time at the uni cafeteria didn’t make muster.

But, needing the work, she’d been determined to do her best. So she held her head high, when most of the time she felt like a big fat pretender. She smiled till her face ached. Even when pampered patrons accused her of getting their orders wrong. Or commanded her to do silly things, like massage their temples for ridiculous amounts of time if they felt a headache coming on. And that was only the beginning. When she crashed, late at night, her dreams were a jumble of spilled cocktails, tumbling plates and an endless parade of growling, super-rich guests.

That was the hardest.

Once Nina Petrelle had lounged on the A list. She’d sipped chilled Cristal cocktails and worried about little other than her designer tan, acrylic tips, or the lack of room to accommodate her ever-expanding wardrobe. Now, existing on the other side of the glass wall, that kind of over-indulgence near sickened her. She wanted to shake these out-of-touch squillionaires and let them know there were real people out there and they were doing it tough.

But alongside her indignation lived another emotion. A desire that, in the still dead of night, made Nina’s cheeks burn with shame.

Envy.

Secretly she craved to cast off her uniform and rest her weary limbs. She wanted to sprawl out on one of those sunwashed deckchairs and beg, borrow or steal the chance to return to the decadence of her previously worry-free life—if just for a day or two.

She hadn’t thought she’d miss extravagance. Had never imagined ever wanting to be a society princess again. She had a new life, and obscene luxury simply wasn’t her any more.

Yet here she was—torn between opposing self-indulgence and desperately wanting it back.

A monster of a wave crashed on the shore and Nina was brought back to the harrowing present. As the sea rushed in, a cry slipped from her throat, but, with water flooding her windpipe, her “Help!” came out a spluttering cough.

Who would hear anyway?

Determined to keep her mind off her troubles, and maybe trim up those saddlebags, this afternoon she’d strolled along the powder-soft sand until she’d reached the island’s unpopulated southern tip. Collecting shells and other flux, she’d happened upon a tree fallen across the full width of the beach. Its trunk had looked solid enough, but as she’d leaped over, her foot had broken through a patch of rotting wood. Off balance, she’d tumbled back, and had struck her head on something hard.

Nina touched that stinging lump now, and winced at the same time as another vivid memory flashed to mind.

A heartbeat before passing out she’d seen an angel standing on a nearby cliff … a brilliant vision, arched against the unsettled sky, which had made her heart hammer as well as melt.

She pushed up onto her elbows and angled her throbbing head. Tropical sunshine struggled through darkening clouds to bounce off the jagged ledges, but no angel adorned the cliff’s peak.

Pity. The image burned into her brain was of a male with raven’s wing hair, linebacker shoulders and a set of windblown white wings. Given the distance, those few delicious details ought to have been it. And yet a deeper, unshakable impression remained …

Strong, chiselled features. Mesmerising ice-blue eyes. A bare chest bronzed the colour of warm oak. His confident stance had conveyed not only a sense of authority but also …

What was it?

Destiny? Perhaps purpose? And what about the raw sexuality that had rippled off him in blistering waves? Did angels have dibs on that stuff? She’d never seen anything more powerful.

More beautiful.

Before she’d slipped into darkness Nina imagined their eyes had met and a message had passed between them. He’d told her not to worry, that he knew and would protect her.

She looked around, and a slightly hysterical laugh slipped out.

How wild was that? And how fitting. These past months she’d needed a guardian angel and, with another enormous breaker rolling in, never more than now.

The rush of cool water flooded in, higher this time. As the wash ebbed out Nina tried to rotate her trapped ankle, but bit her lip when splinters pierced the skin. She tried sitting up to pry the wood away, but while the area her foot had penetrated was weak, the surrounding timber felt like concrete.

Slumping back, she covered her face with both wet, gritty hands and prayed.

Before her father had died her brother had also passed away, in tragic circumstances. Now her mother, her sister Jill and nephew Codie were the only family Nina had left. She would give anything—everything—to get out of this and get back home to see them all again.

Another wave smashed on the sand. Frothy scallops swirled up, and this time Nina barely held her chin above water. Jill had always said her sister’s one big flaw was her reluctance to accept help. Nina only wished Jill were here now. She wouldn’t merely accept help, she’d happily beg. That roller about to break looked big enough to drown.

Assessing the dense grey-green foliage behind her, she waited for the cackle of a kookaburra to fade. Then she filled her lungs and, giving it her all, cried out—

“Heeeelp! Can anyone hear me? I need help!”

Long before Gabriel Steele heard the distant cry for help, he was hyper-aware of three things.

A: the thousand branches lashing at his flesh as he tore down the slope hurt like a bitch.

B: his new track shoes were worth their weight in gold.

C: he was running out of time.

His heart belting against his ribs, Gabriel kept his eye on each footfall as he rushed to negotiate the rugged decline. Fast was good. Reaching the bottom in one piece was better. He’d be as useful to that woman as a tiger with no teeth if he broke his leg—or his neck.

And why, in high heaven, had she wandered so far from the resort complex anyway?

Standing atop that cliff earlier, contemplating its drop and the danger, he’d seen her advance along the beach—had watched, unconcerned initially, when she’d skipped across that log. As if the wood were paper, her foot had plunged straight through. She’d toppled back, and when her head had hit that rock he’d felt the thwack to his bones.

Out cold.

And, because things could always get worse, the tide was pushing in.

He could boast better than twenty-twenty, but a blind man could see the situation looked grim.

Now, with shirt-tails flapping behind him, Gabriel bounced down the same steep track he’d climbed half an hour earlier. So much for stealing time to face a challenge that, for once, had nothing to do with corporate tax law.

In truth, he loathed taking time out from his position as director of Steele Chartered Accountants. During his decade-long rise up the corporate ladder he’d accrued a sizeable fortune, but he still had a way to go before his personal worth equalled that of his more affluent clients. He’d worked too damn hard to slack off now—particularly after breaking a cardinal rule.

Never over-extend.

Four weeks ago he’d taken a huge gamble, investing nearly all his equity in a venture he felt to his bones would pay off. The business’s solvency had dropped close to bankruptcy, but if he made every move the right one he knew he could not only turn the entity around, he would also make it the envy of every tycoon in Australasia.

Now was “make or break” time. There was zero room for sentimentality. Less room for weak links.

“Help. Pleeease. Help!”

Brought back, Gabriel upped his pace. When a surprise branch whipped his forehead, his roar of a curse rattled the treetops. Once he’d shaken off the stars, he pushed all the harder. He had to reach that woman in time. He’d do the same for anyone.

Wished he could have done the same—

He tamped down futile memories to concentrate on his task, on that woman … and on the not unpleasant sensation that had curled in his stomach as he’d watched her from his vantage point earlier.

She seemed somehow familiar, her hair a caramel-gold waterfall pouring down her back, her legs endless, shapely and tanned. Stooping to collect a shell here and there, she’d conveyed a grace that only fine breeding could assure.

And yet her cut-offs were ragged around her firm thighs, and her feet were bare. No Manolo Blahnik flats in sight. Not that those legs needed expensive accessories. He could have watched her toned calves flex all day as she’d sifted through the powder-fine sand and—

A boulder sprang up out of nowhere. Gabriel hurdled and landed safely at the same time as a notion struck.

That was why she seemed so familiar. Watching her in those cut-offs had reminded him of a long-ago childhood vacation by the sea, when he’d gone barefoot twenty-four-seven and his fishing rod hadn’t left his hand. Aunt Faith had been a gem, providing her studious nephew with plenty to eat and lashings of love. Despite the tragic circumstances surrounding his mother’s disappearance, from the age of four Gabriel had enjoyed a well-rounded, relatively hassle-free upbringing.

Then his best friend had died.

At last Gabriel tore through the last layer of brush and burst into the light. His lungs burning from lack of air, his body lathered in sweat, he spotted the woman twenty metres away. He dug deep to mine what remained of his strength, then sprinted as the spill from a colossal wave consumed her.

His gaze held the circling froth where she’d disappeared until, plunging into the wet cool, he found her and urged her head clear of the torrent. As her arms shot out, and she gasped and coughed, he summed up the dire situation. Her ankle was locked at an ugly angle. No telling if bones had been broken.

One arm supporting her shoulders, he cleaned the filigree of clinging hair from her face as she struggled to take in air. If he’d had time to dwell he’d have said she was beautiful, in a bedraggled, drenched kitten kind of way.

“Can you hear me?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

She grasped the top of her leg and found a grateful smile. “I am now. I’m just a little—” She flinched. “A little in pain.”

As the wave sucked back out he laid her down, then manipulated his fingers between her ankle and the wood. It seemed her foot had slipped through a knot; sadly, the surrounding shell felt tough as nails. She wouldn’t have been able to budge it even if she’d had the strength to try.

After a couple of tugs, attempting to weaken the wood, he was quietly worried. He inhaled, rallied determination, and gave another, more serious wrench. A small piece broke off, then a bit more. No screams of pain; she gave little more than a thankful shudder as he freed her foot a second before water swept up and their world became a muted, cold-rush blur.

Fully submerged, holding his breath, he relied on his sense of touch to scoop the woman up and heave them both clear of the churning pool. He trudged well out of tide range and, on a sparsely grassed knoll, laid her down. Any minute the steady pump of adrenaline would give way to the burn of muscle fatigue, but for now he’d keep moving.

How bad were her injuries?

As she worked to catch her breath, Gabriel knelt close and collected her ankle. No compound fractures. When he rode two fingers over the arch of her foot, her peach-polished toes flexed up. Cupping her heel with one hand, his other palm resting on her shin, he applied a token amount of pressure to test the ligament. When she didn’t complain, he applied a bit more. She cringed, but didn’t cry out.

Brave girl.

There were nasty scratches and welts that would ripen to bruises. She’d need an X-ray, and a day or two of rest, but—fingers crossed—in a month or so her ankle would look as good as new.

Searching for other wounds, his gaze travelled the length of her leg, and higher. But at a tug low in his gut—a kick of kindling heat—he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. Inviting as she looked—wet tee-shirt moulding to the swell of her breasts, nipples puckered beneath transparent white interlock—this was so not the time.

He swept sand into a slanting step with one hand and then, to help with the swelling, set her foot upon the “pillow.” Finally falling back on his rump, he laid one forearm on a raised knee, dragged down a settling breath, then blew it out in a rush. His heart was chugging like a steam train. He hadn’t felt this juiced in years—not since torturing himself competing in triathlons in his late teens. Great for building stamina. Not so good for fending off ghosts.

He told her, “Nothing appears to be broken.” Thank God.

Her chest deflated as she wheezed out a breath. “You sure? Coz it really isn’t my day.”

He grinned at her impish tone, her slight but sexy lisp. “You’re scratched up, and—”

“My God—” Her eyes went wide in horror. “So are you.”

As if to prove her point, a warm trickle slid past the corner of his eye. He ran his thumb over his temple, inspected the smear of blood, then swiped the red on his soaked chinos.

No headache. No sting. “Nothing serious.”

Her unconvinced gaze zigzagged over his scored torso. “That’s a whole pile of ‘nothing serious,’ if you ask me.”

Her concern was appreciated, but he’d live. Thankfully so would she.

“There doesn’t appear to be any ligament damage.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“An accountant.”

She looked uneasy. “No offence, but I thought accountants were supposed to wear black-rimmed glasses and look kind of nerdy.”

He smiled. “No offence taken.”

He’d worn just that type of glasses once—not that she needed to know. They were strangers, thrown together by situation and sheer luck. Of course that didn’t mean they couldn’t get to know one another. Might be the extraordinary circumstances, the overload of adrenaline, but somehow she seemed …

Different.

Oh, he dated. Hard not to when he was considered one of the country’s most eligible bachelors, and friends constantly set him up with “possibilities.” And, sure, women were nice. Hell, he wouldn’t want to live in a world without them. But he was way too busy to worry about relationships. Too busy for anything other than casual.

As if that thought were a wish, an alternative vision of this woman swam up in his mind. With the tee removed, shortie-shorts too, her tan would be all over, her breasts mouth-wateringly full. The vee at the apex of her thighs shone with a tantalising tuft of caramel-gold—and why, dear heaven, was he letting his imagination run away on him like this?

Gabriel scrubbed his bristled jaw and shook his head clear.

Okay. Cold showers—and/or oceans—weren’t cutting it any more. It had been way too long. Still, he could control his overloaded testosterone levels. Willpower, in everything, was his speciality.

He squared his shoulders, then moved to check the contusion on her head. After parting the clotted hair, his fingertips circled the injury and she hissed.

“Sorry,” he murmured, then, “No cut. But you’ve got an egg.”

“Laid by an emu, feels like.”

Cupping her chin, he checked for uneven dilation of the pupils. When her large jewelled eyes blinked up at him, his groin flexed. Clearing his throat, he reminded himself of their circumstances and edged away.

“You were knocked out. Do you remember how it happened? Your name? Is there any ringing in your ears?”

What were the other signs of concussion?

But she didn’t appear to be listening. Rather, those sparkling topaz eyes, surrounded by lush damp lashes, were examining him with new, almost innocent wonder.

“You were standing up there, weren’t you? On that cliff.”

His brows jumped. “You saw me?”

“Only for a moment.” Her gaze dropped before catching his again. “This’ll sound crazy, but as I blacked out I thought you were … Well, I thought you were an angel.”

He chuckled at her almost reverent tone. “Sorry to disappoint you again.” Not a doctor. Definitely not an angel.

As a late afternoon breeze rustled through the palm fronds, and seagulls squawked overhead, her eyes glistened and her brow furrowed more.

“Still, you … you seem familiar.”

Really?

Maybe it was more than seaside memories that made her seem familiar too. Had they met before? At a dinner? Maybe they lived in the same neighbourhood? Potts Point, Sydney, was pricey, but then anyone vacationing at Diamond Shores had money and plenty of it.

Before he could ask, she held her head and groaned over an apologetic smile.

“I’m all muddled. My head feels like it’s packed with cotton wool.”

“I’m not surprised.”

She needed that knock checked out properly, along with some painkillers and an appropriate bandage for her foot. She needed civilisation, asap.

“Give me a moment,” he said, determined to ignore the creak of tightening hamstrings, “and I’ll get you to a doctor.”

The island enjoyed a full-time physician, as well as a seaplane and an emergency helicopter, both of which, he believed, served French champagne. Luxury at its decadent best.

“That’d be great,” she said, tipping up. “You can lend me an arm. Or I could use a branch for a crutch.”

He urged her back down. She needed to rest and lie flat. “You’re not walking anywhere.”

Her doubtful gaze drilled his. “What’ll we do, then? Close our eyes and click our heels three times?”

He grinned. Cute.

“I’ll carry you.”

“All the way to the resort?” She half coughed, half laughed. “Your arms will break off.”

He cocked a brow. “I assure you they won’t.”

Her cheeks pinked up before she gave a conciliatory sigh. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done. You’ve been two hundred percent chivalrous and I’ll be forever grateful. But I’m not exactly a flyweight.”

Correct. She was shapely. Voluptuous, really. Precisely how a woman ought to be.

He cut short his discreet assessment at the same time as she pushed back up on her elbows and sent over an all-settled, I’m-used-to-getting-my-own-way smile. “So, we’re agreed?”

His hand on her shoulder eased her down again. “Lie flat.” She didn’t need to risk nausea or dizziness. “I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”

“That can’t include giving yourself a heart attack.” Her eyes lit up. “I know. You can go for help and I’ll wait here.”

“You need medical attention now, not later.”

Besides, he wouldn’t leave her alone. She might get it into her head that she knew best and try to limp back to the resort.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “I was big-boned before getting friendly with the food here. If you’ve tried the desserts, you’ll know you can’t stop at one.”

Her lush lips were soft and parted now, and a delicate pulse beat at the base of her throat. I wonder what that pulse would feel like against my tongue? Gabriel thought.

Wonder what she’d be like in bed?

“Hello?” she cooed. “Are you listening?”

He grunted, drove a hand through his hair. “Sure. Delicious. No control.”

She nodded, then winced and touched her head. “You’re all fired up, and obviously capable, but I can’t have you putting your back out.” She pushed up again. “And, seeing I have final say in the matter—”

“Absolutely you have a say.” He tipped her back down. “You can say, Yes, sir.”

Her mouth dropped open and a mew of outrage escaped.

Doubly determined, she pushed up again. “I didn’t realise I’d joined the army.”

“I’ll count to three,” he warned, half hoping she’d defy him.

She didn’t disappoint. “I’m more than capable of making my own decisions, thank you very much.”

Done with words, he pointed at the ground. When her face hardened with a you-can’t-make-me look, his jaw shifted. He admired spunk, but only one person was in charge here and it was time she learned who that was.

In one smooth, purposeful movement, he angled closer, crowding her back as he bent forward until, eyes gone wide, she lay horizontal again. By the time he stopped crowding, his head was slanted over hers and their mouths all but touched.

His gaze licked her lips as he grinned.

“You were saying?”

CHAPTER TWO

STARING into the wicked eyes of a beast, Nina kept still and swallowed hard.

There she’d been, wondering if she could possibly get out of that fix alive, then pow! So broad through the chest, so capable and infuriatingly confident, this superhero type showed up out of nowhere.

But she was confused. Where did he fit on her character chart? Was this man exceptionally good, or primarily perfectly bad?

Anyone with half a brain and a pair of scales must see he couldn’t carry her all the way back to the resort. Nevertheless, he hadn’t merely dismissed her suggestions. He’d gone so far as to pin her body beneath his to get his point across.

She was trapped. She should be fuming!

Instead her nerve-endings simmered with indisputable awareness, and her fuzzy brain kept wondering how well his lips might fit closed over hers.

“You’re quiet,” he noted, his mouth a hair’s breadth from hers.

Wondering if he might manacle her wrists next—and not wholly against the idea—she squirmed. “I’m thinking.”

“About behaving, I hope.”

His voice was rough, dangerously deep, and the whisper of his breath against her lips felt far less invasive than it ought to.

“Do I need to point out,” she said, “that I’m not the one behaving badly?”

“Won’t make a difference. If I let you have your way, you could do yourself another injury.” Wet dark hair flopped over his brow when he cocked his head. “Or would you rather I ignore the fact you might have concussion?”

“I’d rather you quit with the caveman mentality.”

He growled and leaned a smidge closer. “You’re only alive because that caveman mentality got me to you before the sharks tucked in for dinner.”

She held her breath while her heart thumped high in her chest.

Oh, crap. She hated to admit it, but his brutish logic made sense. He would never convince her he could carry her all the way back to the resort, but her head did feel light. If she stood up now, tried to walk, she might very well fall over. Maybe even knock herself out a second time. Like it or not, in a roughish kind of way, he was still rescuing her—protecting her—this time from herself.

She issued a reluctant nod and, fire fading from his eyes, he curled away.

As he repositioned himself beside her, the sinking sun fell behind his head, bathing his splendid form in a golden-rose halo. Nina squeezed her eyes shut, then looked again. He wasn’t an angel. She was certain of that now. And yet his presence, this scene, everything about this time here with him seemed surreal. Make-believe.

Maybe she was still unconscious? Maybe her lungs were filled with water and she’d hallucinated all this while succumbing to the final phase of drowning? Was she experiencing some incredible dream on her way to the hereafter? That wasn’t so unlikely. She’d heard stories before.

Was any of this real?

Determined to find out, she reached and touched his pec, an inch above that small flat nipple. Her fingertip sizzled like creamy butter on a hotplate, at the same time as her centre glowed and blood tingled with fresh life. As her fingers fanned over the black, crisp hair, bolts of crackling electricity ripped through her veins. His flesh was so firm, so masculine and—

She stopped.

Inched her gaze up.

He was looking down his aquiline nose at her fingers—which were kneading the warm cushioned steel as if they belonged there.

Tilting his cleft chin, he raised a dark brow and his entrancing eyes met hers.

“Let me know when it’s my turn.”

She snatched her hand away. Her breathing was all over the place again and her face was flaming. Simply put, she wanted to die.

“I was just … er … just making sure they were—I mean, that you were—” Embarrassed beyond words, she spat out the rest. “I was making sure you were real.”

“Oh, is that what you were doing?”

His lopsided grin drew a crease down one side of that highly kissable mouth. And his eyes …

They were so clear and bright and laughing.

Laughing at her.

She understood why. She was acting like a loon. A suspicious, ungrateful, concussed, groping loon.

But then his gaze sharpened and his expression changed.

“Are you cold?” he asked, edging close again.

“I don’t think so.” But that noise … Were her teeth chattering? Checking out the clouds building to black overhead, she shivered and instinctively hugged herself. “I am kind of shaky.”

A line cut between his brows and he cupped her chin, turned her head gently one way then the next. His gaze intensified, and for a giddy moment Nina imagined she’d fallen head-first into those amazing ice-blue eyes. When he checked her pulse against his platinum Omega, she relented and played compliant patient. After six weeks of serving other people’s every whim, there was part of her that needed this one-on-one attention, mandatory though the attention might be.

“What’s the verdict, Doc?” Did he want her to open her mouth and say ah?

Her answer came when he rolled his shoulders back and peeled off his shirt. Her eyes popped out of her head. Mamma mia. What a specimen.

“You need to be kept warm,” he told her, stripping a sleeve off one dynamite arm and then the other.

“Thanks,” she managed to wheeze, “but I don’t think a wet shirt will cut it.”

“Body heat will.”

“Y-you’re going to hold me?”

He blindly tossed the shirt on a bush, then loomed over her, the chiselled planes of his face unforgivably close. “Any objection?”

Her gaze zeroed in on his mouth, on the dusky pink of his full bottom lip, and her pelvic floor muscles squeezed.

She’d tried to refuse him before and her opposition had got her nowhere. If anything, being obstinate had made matters worse. An air of entitlement, albeit tempered by GQ looks and bad-boy charm, was a quality that stuck in her craw. She’d kow-towed to similar sorts too often these past weeks … people who would once have classed her as their equal.

All that aside, this guy was no idiot. If he said she needed to be held—hell, he was probably right. And if she must be gathered up against some unknown body … heck, it might as well be his.

When she mustered a haughty look and shrugged one shoulder, he scooped an arm beneath her neck.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he said, careful of her bump and her foot as he lay beside her.

He drew her close until her ear rested on the plateau of flesh and muscle below his collarbone. Despite her irritation, she almost sighed when one iron-warm palm splayed over the small of her back, pressing her deftly against his powerhouse length.

His breath brushed her ear. “How’s that?”

She could be smarmy, could fib and say she was uncomfortable; she was in a way—only because he had, indeed, been right. It seemed those remarkable arms gathering her near were exactly what her traumatised body had needed.

Comfort … a masculine mountain of it.

She buried her nose in his chest and mumbled, “Better.”

She imagined his grin. “Good.”

He was damp but hot, as if a furnace were blazing away beneath the skin, and when she closed her eyes everything but the impression of security and strength faded from mind. His earthy scent, mixed with a lingering hint of aftershave or soap, burrowed into her pores and played havoc with her rag-taggle reason.

This felt nice. He felt nice. Nice and strong and not-so-plain-or-simple sexy.

She inwardly sighed.

Oh, why not admit it? The throb in the base of her belly wasn’t a consequence of relief or gratitude, or even exasperation. It was desire—the forbidden, molten lava kind that blocked out other stimuli, heightened each sense and alerted every fibre. It was the kind of intense physical attraction that had her half convinced she needed to dissolve into this man right here, right now, or simply cease to be.

Crazy.

Clearly the knock on her head had bumped the arousal lever in her brain up to high. Every synapse seemed to have direct dial to the pulse ticking merrily away between her thighs. Every nerve-ending was wired to zap the burning tips of her breasts. All of which made her horribly nervous.

And terribly curious.

They were strangers, brought together by near tragedy. She was a level-headed woman who, admittedly, hadn’t had a man in a while. A good while. And certainly never one like this. But her urge to gaze up, look into those incredible eyes and offer him her lips …

It was wrong. Totally off beam.

Wasn’t it?

A moment ago his bedraggled kitten had wanted to know if this was real. Now Gabriel wondered too. He hadn’t peeled off his shirt and drawn her close for any reason other than her shaking. She needed to be kept warm.

Sure, he was benefiting too. Lying on this cushiony spread of sandy grass and listening to the rhythmic wash of waves gave him a chance to recuperate. His system needed a break. Only …

He didn’t feel all that relaxed.

His body was a simmering mass of anticipation. His heartbeat was a booming bass beat in his ears. Those symptoms weren’t a consequence of exertion any more than the ambitious tightening in his groin, or the groan of awareness building like thermal movement deep in his chest.

He was a man who lived well—the finest food and accommodation, state-of-the-art high-powered cars. But holding a beautiful woman was on a shelf all its own. She seemed to be on a shelf all her own.

He was no stranger to sex. Slow sex, hot sex—wild sex even better. But, no matter how stimulating the company, he’d never needed to worry about maintaining a certain level of control. He never truly lost himself in the moment. And yet the desire rippling through his veins now was distinct. Unique.

Disturbing.

It had to be the setting, the extraordinary circumstances, but it was all he could do not to tug this woman’s supple curves closer, coax her shapely hips nearer, tilt her chin higher and kiss her.

Hard.

Normally he knew when a woman was interested too. A lidded look. An arched brow. A sensual smile when she caught his gaze and held it. That kind of nonverbal communication had been perfected by nature over eons to ensure the survival of the species. I’m available. Me too. No genius there.

But, lying beneath this palm tree with Miz Crusoe nestled alongside him, he was stumped. She’d been grateful, stubborn, teasing, and finally accepting. It couldn’t be his imagination that she was enjoying this contact as much as he was.

So where did pumped-up high-stakes drama end, and good old-fashioned foreplay with an attractive, might-as-well-be-naked woman begin? If he rolled more towards her, how would she react? With outrage, as she’d done earlier, before he’d flattened her against the ground to make sure she wouldn’t hurt herself? Or would her gaze become heavy with an I-feel-it-too glow?

When she gave a violent shiver, the choice was made for him. Before she trembled a second time Gabriel held her more firmly, grazing a warming palm up and down her chilled arm.

After a moment she looked up, and her full lips twitched. “You must think I’m horrible.”

He grinned. “Worse than Godzilla and the giant Powder Puff man combined.”

Her perfect smile fanned wider before she sobered. “While I can’t condone all your tactics, I truly am grateful. For everything. You’re right. I’d have been fish food if you hadn’t come along when you did.”

“I’m glad I was able to help.” More than she’d ever know. “How’s your foot?”

Her leg moved and she flinched. “Hurts a little.”

“We ought to get moving before the pain gets worse.”

She hummed out an affirmation, but then only laid her cheek back upon his chest.

He gauged the sun’s heavy position in the sky, the storm clouds meshing together overhead, then closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of her hand on his ribs.

Ah, what the hell? A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

His palm trailed her arm again, up over the slender shoulder, down to her elbow. Seagulls wheeled and squawked above while time wrapped around them like a promise-filled cocoon. If anyone had happened along they’d have mistaken them for lovers.

“Guess we really should get going,” she murmured. “You’ve probably got someone waiting.”

He nailed the quality in her voice: overly blasé. People came to Diamond Shores to fulfil their island fantasy while soaking up every laid-back luxury. Make the rates exorbitant, and it was a licence to print money. It added up that kitten here was looking to be indulged too. But in what way? And to what extent?

Time for a test line.

“There’s nobody waiting in the way you’re implying,” he said.

“What way is that?”

“How many ways are there?”

“Let’s see. You could be here on a reckless weekend with a bud.”

“Nope.”

“Could be showing a client a good time, hoping to tie the bow on a multi-million-dollar deal.”

“Good guess, but no banana.”

“You’re here with your girl?”

“Don’t have one.”

Two beats of silence, then her breath brushed his chest again. “Maybe you’re here to find one?”

“Is that an invitation?”

She gave a humourless laugh, but didn’t search out his gaze. “Believe me, I’m not your type.”

“What type are you?”

“I should start with clumsy.”

“So this kind of incident isn’t a one-off?”

“Yesterday I spilled a drink in the lap of an Arab prince.”

He cringed. “Bet he offered to buy you another one.”

When she groaned, the vibration blew a pleasant tingling rash down one side of his body. “Hardly.”

“International model types weren’t the Prince’s thing?”

She lifted her head to give him a pull-the-other-one look. “Models are super tall and thin.”

“So, not a model?” he conjectured. “More athlete, then. You compete in the European show-jump circuit?”

“Horses make me sneeze. And I’m clumsy, remember? I’d break my neck, and the poor horse’s too.”

“Okay. Your father’s one of the country’s leading barristers and you’re fresh out of law school, ready to fry your first bad guy’s butt,” he surmised, and she laughed.

“I like your imagination,” she said, “but …”

“I’m off track?”

“Way off.”

“A hint would be good.”

“But not as fun as hearing what you come up with next.”

Her eyes were dancing now, and a stream of hair had fallen down the centre of her forehead, criss-crossing her slim straight nose. He scooped the hair behind her ear and his blood heated more.

“Got it.” He lowered his hand. “You’re a misunderstood heiress running from the press.”

“Not this year.”

He chuckled, so she did too, but then she winced and touched her head.

His stomach muscles crunched and welts stung for the first time as he sat up. “How’s the lump?”

“Only hurts when I laugh.”

He mock-frowned. “I can be serious.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I want to hold you closer.”

Her hand drifted away from her bump. “You want to do what?”

“Hold you closer.”

Her eyes rounded to saucers.

“That’s not a command, by the way,” he added. “More a suggestion.”

“If I say no?”

“We head off to the resort.”

“If I say yes?”

“Then I’ll add another wish to my list.”

She blinked several times, as if she were having trouble taking it all in, but she didn’t try to wriggle away. In fact she leaned nearer. “Tell me.”

He craned his neck to graze his lips over the satin and grit of her brow, and the contact made the skin tighten over his flesh. “I’d do this.”

He heard her intake of air, felt her slight tremble as he grazed again.

Her hand bunched slowly on his chest, sending positive signals to regions below.

“And then?” she asked.

He cupped her nape, his thumb circling the base of her neck before his hand slid around to her chin. His lips skied down the slope where a moment ago he’d brushed her hair away.

“I’d tip your chin higher.” With a knuckle, he angled her mouth towards his. “Like this.”

Her lips parted as she inhaled, silent but deep, and her heavy gaze sparkled into his.

“Then what?”

Smiling softly, he moved closer.

“Then this.”

CHAPTER THREE

THE touch of his kiss was faint, yet the intensity of sensation was all-consuming. The promise of what was to come gave Nina a heady rush and goosebumps down to her toes. Today she’d nearly lost her life, but this—dear heaven—was almost worth dying for.

With his thumb guiding her jaw, he steered her chin higher and kissed her again, this time with his mouth slanted at a different, more exacting angle.

Nina sighed.

He felt like magic … omnipotent, skilled, sultry. This caress was barely there, yet somehow it lifted her to another plane, where warm hands understood how to stroke and leisurely lips knew how to thrill. If there was an advanced school of kissing, this guy had graduated top of the class.

As his mouth reluctantly drew away, the tip of his nose brushed hers. She opened her eyes, and when he opened his, they were a dark, stormy blue-grey, and filled with a latent hunger Nina’s surging blood recognised too.

This man was every woman’s dream. Masterful, challenging, sexy to a fault. She’d never met anyone like him. She wanted him to kiss her a second time, and then she wanted him to do it again.

One problem.

Did she tell him before or after she wasn’t who or what he thought? Not an heiress fleeing from the paparazzi, not the genius daughter of a world-famous barrister, but a rather average, stressed-out waitress, struggling to get through a difficult time.

Good thing he had track shoes on. He might want to run a mile.

“I have to say,” he murmured in a rich, drugging voice that spoke directly to her G spot, “that felt good.”

Despite her concerns, she couldn’t help but smile back. “I second that.”

His absorbed gaze dropped to devour her lips. “I vote we get more inventive.”

“Which entails …?”

“For you … simply lie back and enjoy.”

“Oh, I have to enjoy it?” she teased.

He nipped her bottom lip. “That’s the idea.”

At the notion of total surrender—arms draped over her head, taking every wonderful delight he had to offer—syrupy warmth condensed at the heart of her. The idea of making love with a thoroughly gorgeous man she barely knew was not only reckless, it was irresistible. Who said she wasn’t allowed to forget her problems for an hour or two? Wrapping herself in his silver lining sounded pretty good about now.

With a cooling breeze blowing over her skin, teasing her nipples, she wet her lips.

“What about you? Do you get to enjoy it too?”

He shifted up, so that one side of his impressive chest hovered over hers. His arm curled possessively above her head.

“Ask me a hard question.”

He kissed her in earnest then, his warmth flashing heat-lightning through her blood, his mouth irrevocably claiming hers. But not in a gulping, feverish fashion. More with the finesse of a man who knew what women liked. What this woman needed.

His slightly roughened palm trailed down her neck. His thumb rested in the hollow of her beating throat before his touch skimmed down her décolletage, then slid to encircle her upper arm, coaxing her up and in. The suggestion of ownership in the gesture was unmistakable, as well as enthralling—all the more so given the way his mouth worked unhurriedly yet intently with hers.

Her arms coiled around his neck and she pulled herself up, offering more, as delectable desire built and bubbled away—a steaming kettle ready to boil. She was physically, helplessly drawn to him, like a tide to the moon or a bird to blue sky. When his tongue probed deeper Nina whimpered with mind-tingling longing, and a strange sense of belonging seeped through her.

This embrace wasn’t merely great, it was fated. In this thin slice of time she wasn’t Jill’s sister or little Codie’s aunt. She wasn’t the pampered princess who’d once had everything, or the twenty-year-old who’d slogged her guts out to ace her journalism class. She wasn’t a magazine editor who’d found herself at a crossroads.

At this moment she was pure woman, hovering at the pinnacle of creation’s best ever kiss. She felt so fired up she could barely breathe—but, unlike during her near drowning moments ago, she didn’t want to come up for air. She’d much rather relinquish herself to her mystery man’s caress until she expired from exhaustion and sheer joy.

When his thumb brushed the outside of her breast she groaned. The sensitive peak tightened and her leg instinctively moved in. But the scratches on her ankle rubbed and, wincing, she jerked back an inch. When he pulled back too, the set of his jaw and refocusing eyes said he’d remembered where they were.

Oh, but this couldn’t end now. What were a couple of scratches compared to the chance to truly escape and float on cloud nine?

Her arm still around his neck, she tugged. “I’m perfectly fine—honest.”

His chin kicked up a notch. “You don’t know how much I’d like to believe that.”

Her fingers filed up through the back of his hair. “Believe it.”

He set his forehead upon hers. “I’m afraid this, my dear, is not the time.”

She pouted. “Really?”

“Really, really.”

Sorry. She couldn’t accept it. Her hand snaked down and she drew a suggestive circle around his right nipple, smiling when the disc hardened beneath her touch.

Folding her hand up in his, he pressed his warm lips to the palm. “Doctor first. Advanced introductions later.”

“Maybe one more quick hello?”

He laughed, a gorgeous black velvet sound she would never tire of hearing. This guy had it all. Looks, charm, Herculean strength. Sure, he was a little overconfident, but, given the circumstances, after that kiss, she could find it in her heart to forgive him.

“Later,” he confirmed, and cocked an enquiring brow. “Maybe over dinner?”

Nina’s expression dissolved into a walking-on-air smile.

Fate was so unpredictable. A couple of months ago she’d had the next ten years mapped out—work her way up the magazine industry ladder and ultimately secure a spot on a top international rag overseas. By that time Jill would have met the guy of her dreams and Codie would be a real little man. One day Nina had hoped to find her soul mate—someone who truly understood and respected her.

Then her life had landed in a dumpster.

From heiress to editor to wayward waitress. What came next?

When her Galahad sprang to his feet and dusted himself off, Nina sighed. The most amazing few minutes of her life were over. But there was always dinner tonight.

Or was there?

The clientele here seemed oblivious to everything other than their own over-inflated issues and comfort. They lived to compare carats over a leisurely back rub or two. Was this man cut from that same cloth? How would he react when he found out he’d been making love to the hired help?

And, if that wasn’t enough to dampen those dinner plans, there was always the resort’s staunchest staff rule. No socialising with guests. Ever.

His shadow crept over her a second before his strong arms scooped beneath her shoulders and knees. Jolted back, she pushed against his chest. “What are you doing?”

“We’ve had this discussion.”

“I’m not sure we came to any decision.” None that she’d been happy with.

“If memory serves, you called me a caveman, I beat my chest, and the matter was settled. Now, we need to hurry. Rain’s on the way.”

Folding her arms over her waist, she tried to weigh herself down—not that she wasn’t heavy enough. Nevertheless, he swooped her effortlessly up.

His white teeth flashed. “Light as a feather.”

Uh-huh? Veins were already popping at his temples. She could sense the strain in his arms. Why-oh-why had she taken that slab of chocolate torte back to her room last night?

“Put your arms around my neck,” he ordered.

“So you’re intent on doing this?” Giving yourself a hernia.

His response was a sexy wry smile.

She held his gaze, then finally exhaled. He was implacable. What choice did she have? She only hoped he didn’t keel over from a coronary before he’d finished saving her.

She was securing her arms around his hot neck when a light bulb went off in her head. “Hey, I’ve had another thought. You could make a tray out of a big banana leaf and pull me along. Like a snow sled, only on sand.”

His eyes narrowed even as he smiled. “No bananas growing here.”

“Well, you must have a cellphone. You could call for the helicopter to chopper me out. We could make a giant X on the beach with driftwood so they know where to land, and—”

Her words were cut off when his mouth took hers. And just like that the magic was in full swing again, drifting over her like tingling confetti as his kiss worked its spell and he urged her against his granite-like frame.

She dissolved into him. Melted completely. Of its own volition a hand wandered to the centre of his hard chest, fanned over the rock of a pec, then sailed higher, tracking the topography of the bulging cords in his neck, the sandpaper bristle of his firm square jaw. Only when his mouth left hers did the fog partly lift and she realised.

It was sprinkling rain.

Lifting her face, Nina blinked as another drop hit her cheek, then her arm. When he looked up too, as if waving a green flag, the rain came down in earnest.

She let go a shriek. Could her poor body take another beating?

But, while the rain fell in buckets, the water felt soft and revitalising on her skin. Perhaps it was her near brush with death, the lingering effects of that better-than-bliss kiss, or the fact that for the first time in weeks she felt truly free, but a jet of abandon surged up from her centre and a bubble of laughter escaped. Going with impulse, she shut her eyes and tilted back her head. When she opened her mouth wide, sweet rain filled her throat.

She gulped twice, three times, then, through the gauzy mist of rain, searched out his eyes.

Streams were coursing down his ruggedly handsome face, running off the tip of his nose. He studied her, his head slanted, before a crooked smile broke and he rocked back his neck as she had done. Laughing again, she joined him, and as he held her beneath the opened sky, she felt their strength restored.

Some quenching moments later he shook his head, like a dog after a bath, then near shouted over the water clattering through the layers of thirsty foliage behind them.

“We need shelter.”

From beneath sodden lashes, she cast a glance around. The sea had darkened and whipped up too, each slate-green crest rising ever higher before smashing on the shore. The evocative scent of fresh rainfall seemed to rise off the earth’s every pore. No birds in the sky, no tiny soldier crabs scurrying over the sand … everything seemed hidden away, as if nature had called a time out.

As the rain fell harder still, he took matters into his own hands—but he didn’t charge north towards the resort. Rather he headed inland, weaving with precise guerrilla-like movements through a break in the bush.

“Cover your face,” he called as he strode through the underbrush.

She did as he asked and protected herself. “Where are we going?”

Was there a cave close by?

But he didn’t answer, and she didn’t push. Curling into him, making herself small against the branches lashing by, once again she put her faith in this remarkable man.

Finally his gait slowed, and she was jolted when his shoulder crashed against something hard. Then the rain stopped, although she still heard it …

Thrashing on a roof?

Gingerly she uncovered her face and swiped sopping hair from her eyes, in time to see him kick a crude-looking door shut. The noise of the rain outside was cut off and they were alone, dripping puddles at the inside entrance of what looked to be a cabin—boxy, barely furnished, and located in the middle of the island’s dense tropical forest.

He crossed to a single wooden chair set beside a small round table. In the shadowy light she saw a coffee cup pushed near the plastered wall. When he lowered her upon the chair her arm unravelled from around his neck, and as his warmth drew away a violent chill racked her body. She hugged herself as he moved to a kitchenette and flicked a switch. Over the din on the tin roof, her ears picked up the hiss of a kettle.

She twined her legs around one another and, hunching her shoulders, rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms. The exposed beam ceiling was low. An old sepia-tone photo hung on the opposite wall. A gnarly wooden coatstand guarded the door. The only other furniture was a double bed to her right. Shivering, Nina clutched herself tighter. That plump blue and yellow patchwork quilt looked mighty inviting.

The photo on the wall drew her eye. A gently smiling woman sat sloped towards her husband. Humour shone in the man’s dark eyes, and Nina almost felt his hand lying upon her shoulder, as it did on his wife’s in the picture. The hairstyles and garb said mid last-century.

“How did you find this place?” she asked. Had he stumbled upon it during his walk?

The kettle had boiled and he was sliding a coffee bottle over the counter. It was overly large, with a palm tree embossed on one side. It must have been here as long as that picture.

“This isn’t what you’re used to, I expect.”

An unpolished wooden floor, a square-paned window with no curtain to draw against a view of the deluge. The cabin was austere, but also dry and cosy … and, in its intimate isolation, rustically romantic. But foremost it was somebody else’s property. Were the people in that photo still alive? Given the circumstances, she supposed the owners wouldn’t mind them sheltering here, but she frowned as he poured water from the kettle.

“Do you think we should help ourselves to the pantry?”

He paused, setting the kettle down, but then sent over a smile. “This place is mine for the week—along with a bungalow back at the resort.”

Nina lifted her brows. So this millionaire liked to rough it? And this was about as rough as it got.

He asked about sugar and milk. It seemed they both liked their coffee black, so he added some cold water from the tap and brought the much appreciated drink over.

Taking the warm mug in two hands, she sipped. The bitter but tasty brew filtered heat through her blood and most of the goosebumps faded.

Running an eye over the kitchen—retro orange tiles, super-old stove, modern microwave—she pressed the mug to her cheek, then her breastbone. “How did you know this even existed?” She hadn’t heard a murmur about a rental bush cabin from the staff.

He heeled off his shoes near the cold ashes of the fireplace. “The owner built it decades ago.” She had her mouth open to ask more, but he changed the subject. “You need to get out of those clothes.”

The nerves high in Nina’s stomach kicked—firstly at his words, then at the thought of that double bed and its come-hither quilt. But he wasn’t suggesting anything other than the obvious. The rain had set in, and sitting here, shivering and sopping, wasn’t smart. They both needed to get dry.

Striding past her towards the bed, he threw back a filmy curtain, which was hooked up to a chrome rail. “I’ll run a tub and you can get that grit off.”

Nina craned her neck. A chipped porcelain clawfoot bathtub. Hardly five-star—she set her mug aside—but if hot water was involved, she was there.

After he had twisted the stiff faucets, unseen pipes shuddered and groaned to life. He tested the water and, with the other hand propping his weight on the tub’s rim, sought out her gaze.

“You okay to undress and get in?”

His question came at the same time as she found her feet. Her blood pressure dropped and, suddenly giddy, she closed her eyes and withered back down.

He was concerned she mightn’t be able to manage with her ankle, but for her this last half-hour had moved too fast. First the appearance of her angel on the cliff, then the rescue, heightened by that once-in-a-lifetime kiss. Finally she’d been whisked away to this delectable man’s secret lair.

On the beach, as his hands had traced over her body and his mouth had covered hers, she’d craved far more than his kiss. Here was her opportunity. Maybe she ought to take up his offer to help her undress.

She felt a familiar heat and opened her eyes. He was hunkered down beside her, dark brows drawn, the bristles on his jaw rough and close enough to touch.

“Hey … you all right?”

Genuine concern shone in his eyes. For so many reasons, it wasn’t the time to think beyond what was relevant. Salt had dried on her skin where the rain hadn’t reached. Sand, stuck to her shorts and her back, rubbed against the seat. And her scratches should be washed out properly too. Never mind about getting naked. Right now she needed to get clean.

Carefully she pushed to her feet again. “I think a hot bath is exactly what I need.”

He loaned her an arm, collected the chair in his free hand, and she hobbled with him over to the tub. He set the chair below a tarnished brass rack and, before drawing the curtain, said, “That’s a fresh towel.”

Then the curtain whizzed closed and she was alone.

She slipped out of her clothes. When a perfect fan-shaped shell fell from her shorts pocket she set it on a rickety shelf. A few minutes later she slipped into warm liquid heaven.

Her ankle twinged briefly before she slid against the porcelain until she was fully under. Working her fingertips over her skull and through her hair, she shifted the stubborn sand and salt. After coming up for air, she repeated the exercise twice more. Then she closed her eyes and, resting her neck against the rim, simply floated.

When her nostrils blew air into the water, she yanked herself up with a start. She’d drifted close to sleep, and the bath had lost its steamy edge. Past time to dry off.

But as she reached for the towel her attention honed in on the rain, still thumping on the roof, and the wet clothes piled near the chair.

Her throat closed.

She had nothing to wear.

A gust of wind blew the curtain in, and she snatched the towel to her breast. But the wind dropped just as suddenly as it had appeared and the curtain fell straight again.

Wet hair running rivers over her shoulders, Nina first straddled the bath’s rim then, careful of her foot, stepped out and secured the towel under her arms. The door had opened and shut; her companion must have left while she’d been submerged, rinsing out her hair. But where had he gone?

Wondering if she should call out, she instead peeked around the curtain’s corner—and her legs all but buckled.

CHAPTER FOUR

NINA’S face flamed and her toes dug into the floor. She’d enjoyed the sight of her half-naked angel earlier, but she had only imagined the full, delectable picture standing before her now.

His back to her, he stood in the middle of the room, saturated—including the towel he now unravelled from around his hips. The moving shadows of early evening had deepened on the walls, but nothing could dim the glistening outline of his broad back as he tossed the towel near the unlit fireplace, where it landed with a heavy slap.

Bands of sinew roped in his arm when he stretched to retrieve a second towel from the table, and when he tousle-dried his hair—his long legs braced apart—Nina couldn’t tear her gaze from his hamstrings … thick and hard and rock-solid scrumptious. His buns were tight too, and beautifully masculine; she lost her breath each time he rubbed himself and one or the other flexed in turn. When he flicked the towel behind his head and gave his back a two-handed rub down, the rippling muscles sang to her like a Ravel composition come to life.

Too soon he knotted that towel around his hips and thrust both hands through his damp dark hair. At the same time he rotated her way. Her mind slotted into gear and Nina ducked back behind the curtain. Heartbeat knocking at her ribs, she watched his shadow’s languid gait as he moved towards the bed. She bit her lip and almost whimpered. To think a man like that truly existed and, better yet, was here with her.

“Are you all right back there?”

At the deep enquiring voice Nina’s pulse leapt and she squeaked, “Fine. I’m fine.”

“I used the outside shower to wash off.”

Outside shower? “Oh?”

“A broken drainpipe,” he explained, at the same time as an arm materialised behind the curtain. A green chequered shirt was thrust towards her.

“This’ll have to do for now,” came the voice, so near and rich the vibrations shot a fiery dart directly at her core. “Can’t help in the underwear department,” he added as she took the shirt and the hand withdrew. “When you’re dressed we’ll bandage those cuts. I want to know they’re clean.”

She finished drying, then slipped the oversized laundered shirt over her head. Bath, shirt, bandages. Do this, do that. He might have saved her life, but did he ever give over being such a boss?

Shirt-tails brushing her knees, she straightened the collar, then drew back the curtain and said, “You love being in charge, don’t you?”

He was crouched by a kitchen cupboard. He seemed to deliberate on his answer and then, hitching back one shoulder, pushed to his bare feet. “It’s what I do.”

Right. Like Alexander had led armies. Only Alexander hadn’t been a bean-counter—

And he hadn’t worn jeans like this man could.

But even as she unconsciously wet her lips at the heart-pumping sight standing tall before her, another vision sprang to mind and she couldn’t smother a laugh.

A wry glint in his eye, he sauntered over. “What’s the joke?”

“It’s just commanding and accountant don’t seem to go. I can’t help picturing a masked crusader, with a big A on his chest and a turbo-blasting calculator cocked in one hand.”

Faint lines branching from the corners of his eyes deepened. “Never underestimate the power of a turbo-blasting calculator.” His gaze fixed on hers, he moved closer still, the low band of his jeans riding and sliding with each deliberate step.

“What about you?”

“Me?” Her attention shot up from the dark hair trailing down from his navel. “What about me?”

“We’re done with the guessing game. Spill.” His pale eyes twinkled. “Who are you?”

Very good question.

“I’m … er … in hospitality.”

His eyes darkened. “Here to check out the opposition?”

“I’m a hands-on type.”

He nodded as if he understood. “How long are you staying?”

“That’s up in the air.”

Seemingly not surprised, he undid the first aid kit she now realised he held. “I’m here for a wedding on Saturday.”

“The Wilson wedding?”

His gaze sharpened. “You’re a friend of April’s?”

“Not exactly.”

“A friend of the groom’s, then? I’m Gabriel Steele, by the way. April’s boss. Or should I say former boss.”

“The bride-to-be resigned?” she asked, and he nodded. “And you’re not happy about it.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped twice before he crossed to the fireplace. He placed the first aid kit on the mantel and, with kindling prepared, struck a match. “April’s a great PA.”

“Guess her fiancé thinks she’ll make a great wife.” And he didn’t want to share with macho man here. Understandable. She’d bet Gabriel had a harem of Girl Fridays back at the office, all eager to rip their veils off.

He retrieved a poker and, with one perfectly sculptured arm bracing the mantel, stirred the embers while virgin flames licked around the logs. “These days I didn’t think marriage meant a woman had to give up her career.” He sniffed. “But good luck to them.”

A vote for feminism? Nina thought not. Did he disapprove of his PA’s fiancé? Or were his reasons more personal? Perhaps he had a thing for this April himself? Or was it more a classic case of “eligible male against marriage” syndrome? Those guys ought to form a club.

But then her mind scuttled back to his name.

She’d known a Gabriel once. Of course she hadn’t seen or heard from him in years. Not since the funeral.

Her stomach double-clutched at the thought of that day and she studied her host’s face again, this time in the wavering firelight. The hawkish nose, the cleft in his shadowed chin, the sharp widow’s peak dead centre of his forehead as he set the poker aside.

The Gabriel she’d known—Gabe Turner—had been a friend of her brother’s, and they’d made an unlikely pair. While Anthony had been sporty, charming, and much sought after by the girls, Geeky Gabe had sat on the chess squad, had worn his hair parted way over on one side, and had owned glasses with super-thick lenses that darkened when hit by the light. Sadder still, Gabe had been poor … or poor by Petrelle standards.

One day she’d let Gabe into their house—more like a three-storey mansion—and when he’d taken off his shoes at the front door, the fourteen-year-old Nina had been appalled. A hole in both sets of toes. She’d whispered across, asking whether they could perhaps buy him a new pair, but Gabe had pressed his lips together and, hands clenched, strode off to Anthony’s room.

She’d only been trying to help, but, thinking back, of course she’d hurt his pride. He’d made a point of avoiding her after that, and heaven knew back then she hadn’t been used to being ignored. Consequently, whenever she’d had the opportunity, she’d pestered him to get a reaction. Any reaction. Give the guy his due, he had never once lashed out.

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

The rich timbre of his voice swept her back to the present. He’d moved into the kitchen.

“I’m Nina,” she said, and as he flicked a faucet to wash his hands she caught the smirk. Her senses sharpened. “Something wrong with my name?”

“Just the last Nina I knew was as thin as two sticks and went around with a perpetual scowl on her face.”

An ex? It didn’t sound as if they’d blasted too far off the launching pad. Still, a man with his attributes wouldn’t have pined for long.

Sauntering back, Gabriel swept the first aid kit off the ledge. Moving past, he took a seat at the foot of the bed and began to sort through bandages and lotions.

“So, Nina, how do you know the groom? You’re not an old flame here to cause trouble?” He looked up, almost hopeful. “Are you?”

“We’ve never met.”

The square angle of his jaw shifted. “You’re not a friend of the bride or the groom, yet you’re attending their wedding?”

She cleared her throat, formed words in her mind to explain her situation, but those words would not leave her mouth. She wanted to tell him. She needed to. She certainly couldn’t lie about who she was.

He dabbed a cotton ball with antiseptic, and indicated with a tip of his chin that she should sit too.

“I’ve got it,” he said. “You’re a wedding planner. One of the experts people hire to make sure everything’s perfect on the day.”

Smothering a sigh, she shook her head and joined him.

The line between his brows furrowed again. “You really don’t want me to dig any more, do you?”

“It’s not that exactly …”

“Look, if you’re more comfortable sticking with Nina the Mysterious for now, I’ll back off. Privacy can be a huge issue, I know.”

She opened her mouth to fess up, but something held her back.

The thing was … she wasn’t sure who she was any more. With each passing day she wondered more. Being here with this delectable man only seemed to confuse the matter. She was a waitress, yet he was treating her like a princess. Once she had been a princess, of sorts, but then her family had lost everything and, not long after, she’d lost her position. Much of her identity had been lost with it.

The truth was she would rather remain Nina the Mysterious for now. Lately she’d felt so exposed and raw and vulnerable … She wasn’t certain she could stand to peel off one more layer—even to the man who’d saved her life.

Not that she was embarrassed that she’d taken a waitressing job. She would rather step up any day than lie around fanning herself and hoping for some miracle to materialise and get her out of this jam. If she was embarrassed about anything it was that her performance here could have been better. If she was going to stay—and for now she had to—the other staff were right: she needed to take it up a gear.

As if agreeing to put an end to the identity discussion, he nodded at her foot. “Let’s fix you up.”

He first applied antiseptic to the bump on her head, then to her ankle. A large adhesive bandage was fitted, and a crepe one wound around that. When he was done, she ran two fingers over the joint—which didn’t feel nearly as sore as it had.

“Don’t have much in the way of other provisions.” He pushed on his thighs to stand. “Some bread and spread, if you’re hungry. And I do have a bottle of quite passable red wine.”

Watching firelight flicker behind his silhouette, shifting ever darkening shapes over the roughly hewn walls, she felt she didn’t need another thing other than that fire’s heat, this blessed mattress, and her host’s not unpleasant company. Despite the sexual awareness bubbling away below the surface—or perhaps because of it—she hadn’t felt this stress-free in ages. Being stranded with a gorgeous man clearly worked for her. Why not go for broke?

She smiled on a nod. “A glass of wine would be nice.”

In the kitchen, he opened the bottle of red and dug out a packet of peanuts and filled a ceramic bowl.

“Here’s a not so interesting fact,” he said sauntering back. “When I was a kid I wanted to run a macadamia nut farm.”

“Well, I think that’s very interesting.” She accepted a glass and he poured. “I wanted to own a ballet school. What happened to your dream?”

He hesitated in pouring. “I’m not sure. Maybe I should put it on my ‘to-do’ list.”

He raised his glass, she raised hers, and they sipped. The wine was mellow, and trailed warmth from her throat to her belly. Repositioning her weight, she leaned back on one elbow and sipped again.

“So,” he said, getting comfortable beside her, “you dance?”

She screwed up her nose. “I was awful. I just liked the costumes.”

Grinning, he grabbed some peanuts from the bowl which he’d set between them. “What else do you like?”

“You’ll laugh.”

“All the better.”

“I like boxing.”

He spluttered, and hit his chest to help clear his throat. “Didn’t you see Million Dollar Baby?”

“Not competition boxing. Just mucking around.” She protected her chin and jabbed the air. “At the gym.” She shrugged. “I’m improving.”

Her ankle throbbed once, and pain spiked up her shin. Careful of her wine, she manoeuvred back until she lay on her side, her cheek resting in one palm.

Better.

“What about you?” she asked. “Ever put on the gloves?”

“Nope. But I’ve tried practically every other sport.”

“A figures man crossed with an athlete? I’m seeing that turbo-blasting calculator guy again.”

“Ballet and boxing. We all have another side.”

She took a long sip. We sure do.

“How’s the ankle?” he asked, shaking some peanuts in his palm and throwing them back into his mouth.

“Much better.”

Chewing, he evaluated the weather through the window. “The rain’s set in.”

She finished his thought. “And we should bunk down here for the night?”

“Don’t know that there’s an alternative. The resort doctor can check your head and leg tomorrow.” His grin was crooked, and criminally sexy. “I think you’ll make it past dawn.”

“Thanks to you.”

When she smiled over her glass at him, a double-knot in Gabriel’s chest yanked tight.

More than ever before he was head-down, needing to ensure that the professional gamble he’d taken turned into a goldmine. Nothing at any point in his career had mattered more, and he’d learned that success meant keeping your eye on the ball. Always.

But as he watched his mysterious Nina in the fireglow—shadow and light playing over her heart-shaped face—a distracting something tugged inside of him. Something intense and pleasant and real.

She was beautiful, certainly—although he doubted she was aware of the power of her smile or how expressive and bright her eyes were. Her body was strong, yet wholly feminine. Sensual. She was all woman.

As she looked up from her glass and back towards the crackling fire—her drying hair splayed over her shoulder—more than physical attraction spoke to him. Even as he instinctively hardened in anticipation of enjoying another kiss or three, an added influence whispered in his ear.

He wanted to put a name to it, but the only word that came to mind hardly fitted. Trust was earned over a lifetime. Something he didn’t ask for and rarely gave away.

Still, whatever it was that stirred him up about Nina, it felt good. Even if straight-out lust was way less complicated.

He prised his gaze from her lips and found his feet. “More wine?”

She made a purring sound in her throat, and her heavy-lidded gaze met his. She stretched her good leg straight along the mattress and replied, “Half a glass. Any more after that bath and I might go to sleep.”

Relieving her of her glass, he skirted the bed and found the bottle. He poured her half, filled his up, then found a handtowel to mop up the few drops spilled on the cedar table.

“There’s a creek out the back of here, filled with fish and some platypus. Or is that platypi?” He rounded the bed and, keeping an eye on his over-full glass, sat carefully down. “I was thinking this afternoon when I first saw you that this place reminds me of a spot my aunt took me on vacation once when I was a kid …”

His words trailed off.

Her arm was stretched out over the quilt, one cheek lying on that inside elbow. Her lips were slightly parted. If he spoke loudly enough she would rouse, but her breathing said she was already on her way to dream-time. An experience like the one she’d endured today would knock it out of anyone. Couple that with a relaxing soak and glass of good wine …

Still, he was disappointed sleep had taken her so quickly.

His gaze slid down her tranquil form and he gnawed his lower lip. What should he do about those legs? The wolf inside wanted to leave them exposed, but the reluctant gentleman said she might catch a chill.

Setting down the glasses, he eased the quilt over her body, covering her legs and those peach-tipped toes. Then, so as not to disturb her, he placed the chair before the fire, which had grown to a vigorous state. Stretching the cranky muscles in his legs, he threaded fingers behind his head and clicked his thoughts over to its usual fare. To work. To that crucial venture.

To this island.

After investing so much in this project, his efforts to set this place back well on its feet couldn’t fail. Anything that didn’t work towards the reestablishment of a healthy profit margin would be culled. Nothing that worked against success would be tolerated. His involvement here must have one outcome and one outcome only.

Absolute success.

He filed figures through his mind—advertising budgets, staff payrolls. Where to cut, where to spend …

But his gaze kept wandering to his slumbering kitten, to the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath that chequered shirt. He had to let her sleep, and yet with every passing moment—with every whisper at his ear—that new tug inside of him kept willing her awake.

CHAPTER FIVE

NINA dreamed of a tidal wave, a colossal giant that made this afternoon’s rollers look like dwarfs.

The wave in her dream curled up, throwing its enormous shadow over her, before crashing an inch behind her running heels. Having thought she was clear of danger, she cried out when its cold fingers coiled around her ankles and dragged her back. She screamed, but she knew no matter what she did, however hard she tried, this time she was a goner.

As the wave overcame her she was drawn down into the churning, bubbling wash. The motion jerked and pushed her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find the surface. Then something gripped her shoulder, trying to lift her out. Needing precious air, she groped above her head, reaching for the wavering reflections dancing on the water’s surface and the shadow waiting beyond that.

Nina’s eyes popped open at the same time as she sucked down a desperate gulp of oxygen.

She felt pressure on her shoulder, took in her shadowy surrounds, then heard her name murmured in a gravelled voice. The floating pieces of the jigsaw clicked together and, heart thumping, she rolled over.

In the dying firelight, Gabriel sat on the edge of the bed, one knee angled over the sheet, concern lining his handsome face. As his gaze roamed her brow, her cheek, she remembered her scream from the dream and knew she must have cried out.

Emptying her bursting lungs, she touched her forehead and patted the damp away. “I dreamt I was drowning and you saved me.”

A sultry grin sparkled in his eyes. “That wasn’t a dream. Here—push up.” He helped her to straighten higher on the bed, eased the sheet up, then pulled the quilt around her neck. “You’re safe now. Go back to sleep.”

In her mind Nina relieved the moment he’d dragged her out of the wash and laid her upon that sandy knoll. Thank God he’d been there.

She hugged the quilt tight.

Thank God he was here now. For the first time in weeks she did feel safe and certain.

Lighter rain pattered on the roof. She rubbed one eye, then glanced out of the window. Still dark, but no morning bird calls echoed through the bush outside. How long had she slept?

Gabriel had moved to the fireplace to stir the embers. The room smelled of firewood warmth—the kind electric blankets and heaters couldn’t compete with.

Over one broad shoulder, his gaze hooked hers. “You’re wide awake now, aren’t you?”

She nodded and shifted higher.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, replacing the poker. “Thirsty?”

She wasn’t hungry in the least, but … “I’d love a glass of water.”

He brought a large glass over, and she drank it down without stopping.

“Better?” he asked when she handed the empty glass back.

“Much. Thank you.”

She wiggled and got more comfortable. She felt positively toasty. A little sore from her struggles earlier, but also beautifully rested. This unpretentious atmosphere certainly helped.

“Why did you rent this place?” she asked as he slid the glass onto the side table.

She’d already surmised that he must like to rough it, and she was aware of this cabin’s charm, but what deeper reason did he have for preferring bare essentials to the luxury available down the way? Had he played Davy Crockett as a boy? Perhaps he longed to be a social hermit, like Howard Hughes? But then why come to this island at all? Australia’s isolated Outback might be a better choice.

He shrugged, and in a trick of the fading firelight his chest seemed to grow before her eyes.

“I had the wedding to come to here, and some business to attend to, but in between I wanted to take the opportunity to really get away. I haven’t done that since I was a kid.” He nodded at the bed. “Mind if I sit down?” He rubbed his butt. “That chair’s not meant for catching zeds.”

Without a second thought she moved over, and the mattress dipped as he joined her. He stretched one denim-clad leg down over the quilt; the other foot he rested on the floorboards.

“What kind of kid were you?” she asked, snuggling back down into the pillows, hands clasped under her cheek.

“Typical, I guess. Sometimes lonely. What about you?”

Definitely not lonely. She’d had plenty of friends. Plenty to keep her occupied. Singing and dancing lessons. An interest in art. “You could’ve probably summed me up as confident.” She wouldn’t say cocky.

His chuckle warmed her more. “I have no trouble imagining that.”

She recalled her idyllic past, how she hadn’t wanted for a thing, but couldn’t settle on the feeling those memories gave her. “It seems so long ago now … like that girl was someone else.” Her mouth tugged to one side and she sighed. That Nina had been someone else.

“Sounds as if you’d like to go back.”

“Yes. And no.” She pushed up onto an elbow. “What I’d like to know is who I’m meant to be now. Who I’ll be in the future.” She relaxed the tension biting between her shoulders, and almost succeeded in keeping the embarrassment from her voice. “Too much information.”

“I’m all for honesty.”

Nina blinked over, and watched him watching the firelight. He liked the truth? Maybe she should give it to him. There was something about the intimacy of being surrounded by lush, tropical vegetation, that gave her the courage to try.

“Those questions never bothered me until recently,” she ventured. “I had a set of goalposts in my mind—” to be a huge success in publishing “—and I was headed straight for the middle.”

“Then something knocked the wind out of you?”

“Exactly.”

She’d lost her job, but she might as well have been ploughed down and kicked in the gut. She’d never felt insecure before that, even when her mother had blown the Petrelle money. She’d been angry, yes, and disappointed at such waste. But ultimately she’d known she had her own abilities to rely upon.

Then her livelihood had been ripped out from under her and her confidence had been shaken to her core. She’d felt physically winded for days. But she’d forced herself out from beneath the covers, had mailed résumés off and returned to the gym. She’d promised herself things would work out. She would get back on her feet and eventually kick a winning goal right through the centre of those posts.

Only those posts seemed so far away now.

“Worse things have happened in my life,” she continued, peering into the flames and remembering her brother’s and father’s deaths. “But I’d always held it together—”

Stinging emotion filled her throat and she had to stop and swallow. She felt his gaze on her.

“Want to tell me about it?”

Her cheeks hot, she shook her head. She’d said enough. If she said any more she might cry, and that wasn’t something she liked to do too often.

“It’s nothing that a million other people haven’t faced.”

“Maybe you’re trying too hard not to disappoint other people?” he said. “Or trying too hard not to disappoint yourself. Cut yourself a break. Give it time. I see a strength in you I don’t see in too many people.”

She coughed out a laugh. “You saw that strength when? While I was trapped and screaming for help?”

He slid down a little. With his forehead near hers, their noses all but touching, he mock-frowned at her. “Did you hear the part about cutting yourself a break?”

Her gaze lowered to his mouth, and her own lips tingled with want. His scent was so intoxicating … the temptation to taste him again so strong …

But he moved away and, resting against the bedhead, threaded his fingers behind his head. Man, he had the best set of biceps.

“You said yourself,” he told her, “most people face a crisis. More than one. But no one knows what their most vulnerable spot is until fate uncovers it. Recovering from a meltdown can take time, but then you shape up even stronger. Whatever it is you’re facing—” he winked across at her “—you’ll be okay.”

It sounded as if he knew what he was talking about, and, despite feeling low a lot of the time here, this experience had toughened her up. She’d found new ways to adapt. New qualities to admire—in others as well as herself.

Still, she couldn’t help wincing as a prickly knot formed low in her stomach.

You’ll be okay.

She sighed. “I wish I could believe that.”

She must have sounded pathetically in need of TLC, because next she knew his arm was around her shoulder and he’d urged her cheek to rest against the slope of his hot bare chest. His fingers trailed up and down her arm before he gave her an encouraging squeeze. “I’ll believe in you.”

She blew out a quiet breath and, happy to surrender, curled in. With him holding her, his warm breath stirring her hair, anything seemed possible.

Now she’d shared so much, would he open up too?

She hesitated then asked, “Can I ask what your crisis was?”

He exhaled slowly. “I lost someone close. Someone who had faith in me when he didn’t need to.”

With his voice rumbling against her ear, her heart squeezed for him. Was there anything more difficult than saying goodbye for ever to someone you loved?

“For a long time I felt stuck, wanting to go back and change things,” he said, and his hand unconsciously tightened on her arm. “I let that person down.”

“I can’t imagine you ever letting anyone down.” Her palm skimmed higher, to rest where his heartbeat boomed. “You should try to remember why that person had faith in you.”

“I never quite worked that one out. But I’ll never forget it.”

His tone was low and painfully earnest. As far as confessions went, that was a doozy. He seemed so capable; someone to rely on. So where had such an admission come from? Had he confessed that to anyone before? Instinct said not.

She pressed her ear to his heartbeat and, closing her eyes, willed her belief in him to soak through.

Then she smiled. “I might have a solution.”

“Tell me.” His words were patient, amused.

“Let someone have faith in you again.” The same way he said he’d believe in her.

But when he stiffened, a shrivelling feeling fell through her middle. He’d opened up, but clearly she’d overstepped the mark. She hadn’t meant to imply he was in any way unreliable, if that was how he’d taken it. So many people must count on him every day in his business life, for starters.

But then he breathed again, deeper than before, and when his arm moved higher his fingers brushed hair away from her face.

“What does having faith mean to you?” he asked, as the embers flickered lower and the room darkened more, cocooning them in their own little world.

“Loyalty,” she replied, relieved he didn’t sound defensive. “Commitment. Trust.”

“Trust …”

When his mouth brushed her crown her pulse quickened, and her nipples hardened beneath the stiff fabric of her shirt. His arm urged her closer, and the growth of his day-old beard rasped over her. As her heart galloped high in her chest his mouth touched her hair, and anticipation sucked through her veins like a thousand-degree backdraft.

“I’d like for you to trust me,” he said, and he turned her slightly in his arms. But she felt so overwhelmed, her pulse was racing so fast, she couldn’t meet his eyes.

They’d kissed on the beach, but that had been different; she’d been swept up in the high-risk animation of the moment. But now every cell in her body was acutely aware of what lay beyond this caress. With each word and enticing touch he’d let her know his intentions. He wanted her to trust him. Enough to take this next step.

A thumb strummed an inch below one shoulder-blade. When his chin made its way with an agonising lack of speed across her brow down her cheek to her jaw—when the delicious contrast of his lips whispered over hers—Nina felt so light-headed and doused with desire she wondered if she might faint. Then his mouth parted, feathering over hers, and her core caught light.

More than anything she’d ever wanted, she wanted him to kiss her now. Intensely.

Completely.

“I want to make love to you,” he said, and that thumb travelled down the dent of her back. He kneaded the dip at the base of her spine as his teeth nipped and tugged her lower lip. “I want to make love to you like I’ve never wanted to make love to anyone before.”

The gravelled timbre of those words pulled a final trigger. Mouthwatering hunger flooded her centre, and her body reflexively bowed towards his. But the nerves in her throat were convulsing so badly she couldn’t trust herself to speak. So she combed her fingers over the sandpaper of his jaw and let her eyes and her trembling want speak for her.

He turned his head slightly to kiss her palm, then, cupping her bottom, scooped her in while his lips slowly circled over hers. When the thick ridge of his erection ground against her belly, creamy warmth dampened her inside thighs.

“I want all of you,” he told her, and then his mouth claimed hers and the velvet heat of his tongue pushed deep inside.

He kissed her for heady, blistering moments, breaking off briefly to murmur again, “I want to feel all of you, taste all of you.” His fingers curved around the back of her thigh, between her legs. “Every inch and all night.”

Turned inside out, she shook with maddening need. If he wanted her—wanted her all night—she wanted him more.

As they slipped further down the bed he systematically released each button of her shirt. When the last was undone, and she was quivering from head to foot, the backs of his fingers brushed up the curls at the apex of her thighs before drifting higher to trace over her belly.

His eyes found hers, and as his gaze glowed across he wound fabric around two fingers and slid one half of her shirt fully open. His head cocked as he examined the swell of her breast in the firelight, then he rolled her on her back and drove down both sides of the shirt, until the sleeves hung halfway down her arms. His gaze burned over her breasts, then ran a deliberate line of fire all the way down. When, as if more than satisfied, he raised his chin, her lips parted to take in more air.

Where would he kiss her next? The sensitive sides of her waist? The smouldering tips of her breasts? Or would his mouth caress the intimate folds that ached for so much of his touch? Every inch of her begged for the caress of his mouth, the skilled flick and curl of his tongue.

His palm traced up her side and found her breast. The pad of his thumb circled the areola before he gently pinched the tip. She writhed against the sheets and her hand automatically reached to hold his. His hand folded hers back at the same time as his mouth came down, tasting and then laving her nipple, as if it were dipped in thick honey.

Her breathing ragged, she held his head and slipped her good leg around the back of his thigh. His teeth clamped her nipple, and as he drew slowly back she arced with him until he released her to move off the bed.

He unzipped, denim fell, and her eyes rounded. She was more than ready for him; her body was a hopscotch of lit firecrackers waiting to explode. But the sight of his heavy rigid shaft dried her mouth. Everything about Gabriel was larger than life.

Joining her, he eased her up slightly in order to peel the fabric completely from her arms. He tossed the shirt, then lay beside her. In the dancing shadows he searched her eyes. A lazy finger trailed down the side of her ribs, over her hip, and drew a leisurely circle around her navel before his hot palm flattened against her belly. She bit her lip and shut her eyes as his touch delved and slipped between her thighs. When his fingers rode back up and stroked her with just the right pressure, to create just the right burn, she focused inward, concentrating on the rising tide.

With her mind filled with bright darting lights, his mouth covered hers—not gently this time; his tongue probed so thoroughly she wondered if he needed more from her than she could give. But to know the unbridled depth of his desire felt intoxicating. Felt wickedly, wonderfully right.

Her fingers combed up the back of his head, flexing through his hair before sculpting down the sides of his face so she could lock his kiss to hers. She wanted to sear these emotions in her mind … the feel of his jaw working with hers … his magnificent chest grazing her breasts.

She was perched on the teetering brink of release when the kiss ended, a second too soon. He took her wrist, kissing the inside before he moved to position himself above her. Holding her eyes with his, he eased in the tip of his erection, and reflexively her muscles clenched to draw more of him inside.

He began to move, filling her, caressing her. Surrendering to sensation, she fanned her palms over his shoulders as her head rocked back, driving into the pillow. The intensity left perspiration on her brow … left her brilliantly, blissfully out of her mind.

Her nails dug in as she craned up to kiss his chest, so steamy and strong, and all hers for the night.

I knew it would be like this, she thought. This was more than two bodies joining … this was so much more than just sex.

He nipped her chin, thrust again, and hit a spot so high and deep the jolt and thrill tore a sob from her chest. The tremors building in the base of her belly quickened as her throat ached and moisture filled the corners of her eyes. The intensity of pleasure was too much to contain.

She held the hair either side of his temples and, teetering on the edge, thought again, Are you real?

He answered her by taking her lips, and when the stroke of his kiss melded seamlessly with the rhythm of his hips the ticking time bomb at her centre compressed and shone, supernova bright.

She began to fold in on herself. With all the world fading away his body braced above hers and the muscles in his big shoulders bunched. When his head craned back, and he bared his teeth at the sky, she felt him shudder and empty his energy inside of her.

Her own tremors rose higher … soaring, spiking.

Peaking.

The instant a thousand waves crashed in at once he groaned, and drank his name from her lips.

CHAPTER SIX

ONCE was only the beginning.

They made love again, and a third time, and as the rain eased and the yellow fingers of dawn reached through that single window pane Nina snuggled back into the incomparable warmth of her lover.

Gabriel sat at the head of the bed, his back against the rest, his powerful arms coiled around her waist. She sat between his legs, her head slanted against his chest, her arms wrapped around his. The previous hours had raced by as if they’d only been minutes.

Tomorrow was almost here.

His chin brushed over her crown and she felt him harden against the small of her back. Teasing, she wriggled against him. “Aren’t you sick of me yet?”

“Nope.” His expert mouth found the sweep of her neck. Goosebumps erupted down her right side as his teeth danced over the still wanting sweep of skin. He whispered at her ear, “Stay with me.”

She froze, then blinked several times. Had she heard right?

“What do you mean, stay?”

He hummed at her temple. “Here. With me.”

What a crazy, wonderful idea, but … “Gabriel, I can’t.”

“Sure you can.” He urged her face around and kissed her thoroughly. Her lips felt swollen from his all-night attention, but she only melted again now. Kissing, in all its forms, was his absolute forte.

The kiss broke softly. With a growl in his throat, he circled the tip of her nose with his.

“Stay.”

She fisted her hand against his chest. Oh, God, how she wanted to. “It’s not that easy.”

The light in his gaze dimmed, and for the first time she saw something else in his eyes … something hard and close to unforgiving.

His voice dropped enough to make her shiver. “Is there someone else?”

“Of course not,” she shot back, and the light in his eyes faded back up.

“In that case …” he edged her around more “… let me convince you.”

Holding her chin in the vee of one hand, he tipped her back until she lay flat. The line of kisses he dropped down to her cleavage blew fresh life into embers wanting to flash hot again. And when his mouth tasted one tender nipple, and his tongue wove down to her midriff, her hands stretched towards him and her fingers twined through his hair.

She wanted to stay—so much that it hurt. But the idea was ridiculous. For one, as long as her ankle held up, she had a shift later today. Which led to a far bigger problem. Gabriel had no idea who she was. Or who she wasn’t. He’d given her the option of remaining Nina the Mysterious, and at the time withholding her identity had seemed the easier, more attractive option. But that had been before they’d slept together.

The last few hours had seemed surreal. She could almost convince herself she was just another rich guest enjoying a no-consequences holiday fling with a gorgeous playboy. But of course that dream couldn’t last. She couldn’t stay. Inevitably they would see each other at the resort and her secret would be out.

She pinched the bridge of her nose to stem the sting of emotion.

Okay. She would simply tell him now. Come clean with everything. Then the ball would be back in his court. He’d said, I’ll believe in you. Not light words. If it hadn’t been a line, he deserved the chance to prove he’d meant it. Prove to her that her faith in him wasn’t built purely on firelight and fantasy.

Willing her heart to quit crashing against her ribs, she found a rational voice. “Gabriel, there’s something I need to tell you.”

His tongue twirled languidly around her navel.

She gripped his arms and tried to pull him up. “Are you listening?”

His mouth only dropped lower. “I can multi-task.”

She didn’t doubt it. “There’s more you need to know.”

He grazed all the way up, until his eyes twinkled directly into hers. “All I need to know is …” he tasted her chin “… I want to be with you.”

He said it so easily. As if this could really mean more than a night or two if she let it. But she had to face facts. Clearly Gabriel was no novice at this kind of encounter. He’d known what he wanted and he’d set out to get it. She’d be crazy to believe this interlude meant anything more to him than a dab of icing on his holiday cake; she’d seen enough of his I’m-kicking-back-on-vacation type to know. Hell, rather than irritated, he might be pleased to discover she was a waitress. The thanks-and-sorry-it-didn’t-work-out would be easier that way.

She realised he was looking deeply into her eyes.

A fingertip stroked her cheek. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She sighed. Oh, just everything.

“Gabriel …” She tried to find the right words to begin. “This day has been unbelievable. You make me feel so good. Too good.”

A sexy smile tugged the corner of his mouth before he suckled a line up her throat to her lips. “Trust me. There’s no such thing as too good.”

Nina woke with a start.

Blinking open her eyes, she remembered the rain … the hideaway cabin in the bush. Foremost she remembered waking in the midnight hours, and how Gabriel’s soft, skilled mouth and hard, practised body had claimed hers again and again.

Her every fibre lit up and tingled, recalling the bone-melting orgasms he’d given her. The way his tongue and hands had endlessly explored. She’d mindlessly given herself over to every wondrous stroke and squeeze.

Then he’d asked her to stay.

Her stomach somersaulted. She turned over, tried to focus her sleep-deprived brain, and realised she was alone amid the tangle of sheets. Where was Gabriel? She’d got severely sidetracked last night, but they still had a conversation to finish.

She had a confession to make.

Unfortunately talking quietly in romantic firelight was a far cry from coming clean in the cold light of day. She wasn’t a wealthy guest at Diamond Shores. She worked at the resort. She’d let Gabriel believe what he’d wanted about her identity, but now she needed to speak up.

He was attracted to her. He wanted this holiday fling to continue. Only he had no idea who the woman he was making love with was. Hell, she didn’t know who she was any more—or who’d she’d be next week. Next year.

Nina eased out of bed. Bringing a sheet along, she limped to the window. She had to believe he wouldn’t be upset by her news. They’d spent a glorious night together. Precious time not every couple got to enjoy.

She stopped by the window. He didn’t appear to be outside. When he hadn’t returned after a few minutes she removed her bandage and drew a bath. As she slipped into the warm water she fantasised about him sneaking in and surprising her. But when the bath cooled, she dried and dressed again in the shirt Gabriel had stripped from her late last night. She finger-brushed her teeth with some paste she found while her stomach knotted.

She needed to get this off her chest. How much longer would he be?

Through the smudge of glass, and a break in the canopy of palms and vines, a flawless dome of blue smiled down. The leaves looked greener, hanging low and heavy with morning dew. While the air had felt chilly last night, heat was already building inside the cabin. Another tropical day in paradise.

She’d felt so down of late. In limbo. Lost. Feeling alive again last night had felt so real! The light and smell and sound of everything had seemed amplified. Brighter. She wanted to feel that alive again, and now she knew how to make that happen.

Not by continuing this charade with Gabriel; hiding behind a fantasy, no matter how wonderful, wasn’t the answer. She had to step up and get her life back on track as quickly as possible. Until that opportunity arose, she’d put one hundred and ten percent into doing the best job she could here. Put her all into winning even a little respect from her co-workers.

Hope. A real belief that she could regain her pride. Her beautiful night here with Gabriel had given her that.

Her stomach growled. She’d eaten nothing but a handful of nuts since a scant salad yesterday at lunch. When a fruit bowl caught her eye, she chose an apple and chomped as she made her way aimlessly around.

She was about to make herself a coffee when a movement outside caught her eye. She tipped closer to the window and peered out.

Three … no, four wallabies!

When she swung open the door, air, fresh and minty, filled her lungs. She breathed deeply, listening to a symphony of birds, their squawks and chirps and whistles echoing off the treetops and jutting cliffs. To her left, the wallabies’ ears turned in her direction.

Three were sunning themselves, resting on their sides on a nearby red and black-patched ledge. The fourth had a joey in her pouch; Nina held her breath as two tiny ears and a black nose twitched from the soft furry purse on its mother’s tummy. They were similar to, but far smaller than, their marsupial kangaroo cousins. Their petite jaws munched rhythmically, and Nina longed to furrow her fingers through the thick brown fur of the curved backs. Their strong tails, which ended with a white tip, seemed to go on for ever.

Careful not to startle them, she bit off some apple, crept closer, then lobbed the fruit over. The mother used her tail and small front paws to edge away in the opposite direction. The others twitched their ears, but didn’t deign to turn their onyx long-lashed gazes towards their visitor. She sat on a nearby boulder, and after a time one wallaby rocked slowly over. It collected the apple in its paws and ignored her while it chewed.

This same scene would have existed fifty years ago. A hundred and fifty years ago. How peaceful it would be to live here without television or the internet, Nina thought. No sales pitches or rush-rush schedules. Just the gentle sights and sounds of timeless nature.

She was about to throw more apple when the wallabies straightened, fully alert. Their ears pricked up and then they bounded off, their tails acting as precision springboards. As they disappeared over the rocks and into the bush Nina heard it too—a motor, distant, but coming this way.

She perched upon the wallabies’ ledge and waited to greet her arrival. A few moments later Gabriel appeared, wheeling in a motorbike. Nothing large and mean—rather a fun ride, with chunky tyres obviously meant for off-road.

He stopped when he saw her, and his eyes opened in surprise. “You’re up.”

She eased off the ledge. “You were up earlier.”

He performed a flourishing bow. “Your limousine, madame.”

She laughed, but with a touch of irony. She hadn’t ridden in a limousine for a very long time.

He kicked down the bike’s stand, whipped a carry-bag off the handlebars and closed the distance separating them in three long strides. Then arms that felt like heaven gathered her in and his mouth dropped over hers. As one hand edged up to cradle and faintly rotate the back of her head, Nina dissolved into their best kiss yet. Her fingers fanned up to knead the muscle beneath his fresh jersey knit shirt.

His lips left hers reluctantly, coming back to sip again before he deftly took her hand and began to lead her inside. Her mind stopped spinning enough for her to pull up. She wouldn’t be distracted again. Before he swept her up into the clouds again they needed to talk. He needed to know this was no run-of-the-mill holiday fling. She needed to lay her cards on the table and own up to who she was … or at least who she wasn’t.

When she stopped, he stopped too, a frown tugging at his brows. Then he shook his head as if to clear it.

“I’m an idiot.” He swooped her up into his arms. “I forgot your ankle. I’ll carry you.”

Nina fought the impulse to hold onto him. His no-argument brand of chivalry was intoxicating, but … “My ankle’s fine.”

He wasn’t listening. Instead he moved with her towards the open cabin door.

He stepped over the threshold, and a sense of déjà vu filtered through her. Had so much time passed since that sudden rainstorm yesterday? They were here again, standing in the exact same spot, and he was just as imposing and commanding and delicious as ever.

But he wasn’t heading for the bed. He was looking down at her with a mix of desire and depth and …

Trust?

She cleared the lump from her throat and took a breath. Now or never.

“Last night,” she began, “you asked if I wanted to stay.”

He nodded.

She blew out a breath. “Well, Gabriel—see, it’s like this—”

“You want to go back to the resort, don’t you?” His jaw tightened. “You’re missing the spa tubs and silver service.”

“God, no. That’s not it at all.”

His brows snapped together. “You don’t like the resort?”

“If you really want to know …” She scrunched her nose and shook her head. Not a bit.

A pulse in his cheek started to tick and his jaw shifted to one side. “So what’s wrong with it?”

Nina was taken aback. That stony look and tone … Suddenly he seemed so serious. About her dislike of the resort?

He’d said he’d taken this cabin to get away from it all. She’d believed him. But his questions and the intense glint in his eye didn’t sit with his carefree “escape into the wilderness” story. Something didn’t add up.

He wanted to know what was wrong with the resort?

She quizzed him. “Maybe you should tell me?”

He blinked several times before his chin tucked in. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m getting the feeling you don’t like Diamond Shores so much either.”

His pupils dilated, swallowing the pale irises until his eyes appeared almost black. “I’m simply interested.”

He crossed the room, sat her on the chair, but she stood straight back up.

His ears were pink with irritation, and there was a weird, distant look in his eye. She wasn’t mistaken. There was far more to his questions than simple interest. Did he trust her enough to tell her what was wrong?

Maybe if she gave him a chance to thaw out?

She collected the bottle off the counter to make two strong coffees. But when she screwed the lid it wouldn’t budge. She clamped the bottle under one arm and twisted hard. Stuck fast.

In the meantime, Gabriel had frowned over. “Are you staying on the island with friends?”

She sighed. If only.

She took a hesitant step nearer. He sounded so gruff. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I need to know what people are saying. What they’re thinking.”

When he thumped his fist against the wall she jumped. Then he growled under his breath, something about, “… hiding out here … playing Huck Finn … should be back there, making changes …”

With worry choking off her breath, she slowly brought the bottle close to her chest. “Gabriel … what are you talking about?”

Letting out a defeated breath, he sank into the chair.

“I bought this island a week ago,” he ground out. “It’s on the brink of bankruptcy, and I’m here to make sure everything and everyone who doesn’t perform is eliminated.” He lifted his chin. “Pronto.”

The coffee bottle slipped from her hands, smashed, and shattered to pieces. As the crash ricocheted off the walls, Gabriel shot to his feet. The way Nina’s face had paled, the way her hands clutched at her throat, she might have thrown a javelin that had missed his heart by an inch.

She stared blindly at the mess at her feet, then fixed her huge topaz-coloured eyes on his.

“I broke the bottle,” she croaked out, and when her lashes blinked he thought he saw her eyes glisten.

This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. He hadn’t wanted three cheers, but owning Diamond Shores wasn’t chickenfeed. Or it wasn’t to him. His announcement was at least worth a sentence or two of recognition. Still, God knew how much Nina’s family was worth. Owning an island might well seem inconsequential to many of the guests who stayed here.

He ground his back teeth and ploughed a hand through his hair. It frustrated the hell out of him. Regardless of how far he’d come, there were still times when he felt like someone’s poor relation.

Nina was concentrating on the mess on the floor, as if she couldn’t get her mind around how to clean it up.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he moved forward. “Don’t worry about that.” There was more to worry about than an old broken bottle.

But she didn’t seem to hear. Instead her hands covered her face. “Oh, God, what a mess.”

He took her hands from her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” he said more gently. “I’ll get someone in to clean it up.” But she wound out of his hold, stooped and began to pick up the pieces. He hunkered down and eased the glass from her hand. “You don’t need to do that.” When she collected another piece, he held her wrist. “Nina, I’ll get a maid in from the resort.”

Biting her lip, she stood and spun away, her hands bracing the counter. “We should go. We should go now.”

He tugged an earlobe and groaned.

Okay. He had an idea what was wrong.

Stepping closer, he cupped her shoulders. “Don’t be embarrassed. Yes, I own the island, but I’m glad you told me how unhappy you are with the resort.”

When he’d arrived three days ago he’d introduced himself to key people but had insisted that his true identity be kept from the rest of the staff. He wanted to experience April’s wedding and the resort incognito. He’d also made it clear he needed to be informed of every suggestion for improvements and all complaints.

After he’d jogged to the resort this morning, to bring back some wheels, he’d dropped in to his bungalow and had been greeted by an avalanche of messages. Various managers wanted his ear. One guest had complained he’d been injured—the result of an incompetent ski-boat driver. A celebrity wedding had been cancelled; the bride had heard rumours regarding “off” seafood. The music at the nightclub wasn’t exciting enough. The childminders weren’t any fun.

And so it went on.

A meeting was scheduled for the day before he flew back to Sydney—Monday. He and the managers would crunch figures and implement a kick-butt game plan. But this morning he hadn’t wanted to face the hassle. Face the possibility that this time he might have gone beyond his limits. He’d only wanted to get back to Nina and re-ignite the fires which had raged within these walls last night.

She affected him like a drug, and he wanted to enjoy that all-over high again and again. But he’d been an idiot, a coward, to buy into that distraction. His captivating lover also happened to be a guest at Diamond Shores—a guest who’d admitted in the plainest of terms how dissatisfied she was with the facilities. Talk about a wake-up call.

Every day, every minute counted towards getting this resort back on its feet.

He moved to collect the parcel bag he’d brought in.

Nina was right. They needed to go.

“I put your clothes in to be laundered. I had one of the boutique managers—”

“Whose name did you use?”

To clean her clothes?

He frowned. “Mine.”

Surely she wasn’t concerned about a pair of cutoffs? Although second-hand-looking fashion could be sexy.

He retrieved a wrap and a one-piece from the bag.

So, too, was designer fashion.

From the bottom of the bag he handed over a pair of sunglasses. Her eyes rounded and a puff of wind left her lungs; he might have handed her a priceless jewel.

“I’ve seen these in the window. They’re Bulgari.” She pointed out the arms. “Those are real diamonds.”

As if on autopilot, she slipped them on and moved to the window to check her reflection. He was feeling somewhat redeemed, thinking about how big a bonus to give that astute boutique manager, when Nina’s shoulders came down and she lowered the shades.

She turned back with a sombre face. “I can’t accept these.”

He gave her a sidelong look. “You don’t like them?”

“I love them.”

“Then don’t be modest.”

Although he did admire that quality. Women he dated were often eager to hear about gifts—the more expensive the better. When they started talking diamond rings, he stopped calling. He’d had no time for that kind of commitment. He had less time now.

“It’s not modesty.” She joined him and handed the glasses back. “Not really.”

His laugh was edgy. “Nina, you’re confusing me.”

She inhaled deeply, then her gaze lowered.

Why was she acting like this—avoiding eye contact, drawing away from him? It wasn’t that she was overwhelmed by the fact he owned this place. The only other logical answer came to mind.

“I’m not trying to fob you off,” he assured her. “These aren’t payment or a pay-off for last night. I wanted us to spend the day here together.”

He’d wanted her in that bed again tonight. And their time together didn’t have to be over.

Why couldn’t their connection continue back at the resort? He didn’t know how long she was staying, but surely he would be able to wangle at least some quality time with her before he left on Monday.

His hands settled on her hips and he urged her close. “I have an idea. Move your things into my bungalow. You haven’t been happy with Diamond Shores, but I’ll do everything I can to fix that.” His forehead tipped against hers and he grinned. “Our own private beach. The staff will treat you like a princess. There’ll be hell to pay if they don’t—”

“No.”

When she pulled away, the muscles in his gut wrenched. It was all he could do not to drag her back. Was it so important where they were?

Their kind of chemistry didn’t rely on location. Even if important business was calling him away, they could still come together in the evening. After last night—the way she’d given herself so completely—Nina couldn’t pretend she hadn’t come to this island seeking a little one-on-one companionship. A fling hadn’t figured on his agenda, but it had happened. No reason in the world that it couldn’t continue a few more days yet.

But now she seemed determined to play hard to get.

“I want to go back.” She lifted her eyes to meet his. “And I want to stay in my own room.”

Her cool determination hit him in the chest. He bit down and did what he should have done sooner. He found her arm, brought her back, and held her firmly against him.

His gaze roamed her face as he spoke unforgivably near to her lips. “What about last night?”

He’d meant what he’d said. He’d never wanted to make love to anyone the way he’d wanted to make love to her. He hadn’t been disappointed. She hadn’t been either; he’d made sure of it. After her abandon, why the hard-to-get act now?

He held his breath.

Or had the act been last night?

Had this time away in the bush been nothing more than an adventure for a bored heiress?

She didn’t answer his question. Rather the sparkle he loved to see in her eyes seemed to fade and die.

Gabriel’s heart began to pound. He’d spoken to this woman about trust. About faith. And now, just like that, she wanted out?

She seemed about to say something more—something important. But then the resignation returned to her face and she put out her hand to accept the clothes. “I’ll get changed and we can go.”

He thought about her in those cut-offs … in his arms … in her prima-donna life away from here. He thought about how easily she was prepared to walk away, and a cold ball settled in the cradle of his stomach.

Setting his jaw, he handed over the clothes and, kicking himself for almost falling for a rich girl’s games, stepped aside and let her pass.

CHAPTER SEVEN

NINA moved behind the curtain and changed into the stunning aqua one-piece and matching wrap Gabriel had brought back from the resort.

She ought to feel beautiful. Special. Instead she felt empty. She’d had such high hopes this morning about how this day would evolve, but in these last few minutes everything had soured.

Gabriel had knocked her for six with his admission that he owned this island. Owned it. She hadn’t known Diamond Shores had changed hands since Alice had helped her get her job. In effect, Gabriel was her supreme boss; as well as the woman he wanted to sleep with, she was also one of the problems he needed to have removed. How on earth was she supposed to tell him that?

A few moments later they were tearing along the beach, the bike’s engine roaring, the ocean waves crashing—and Gabriel’s broad, obstinate back in her face. She was torn between needing to wean herself off the magnificent feel of him and desperately wanting to hold on tighter.

As they neared the tall blue side gates of the resort Gabriel changed down gears. When he skidded the bike to a stop, he averted his gaze while she alighted. Her feet on solid ground, she straightened the colourful wrap around her legs, and that empty feeling turned to flat-line hopelessness.

Gabriel Steele’s mission here was to wipe out any rot. Given the many eyes and ears around Diamond Shores, her position wouldn’t be a secret for long. Soon enough he’d hear about Nina Petrelle—her substandard performance, how the other staff disapproved of her breezy ticket in.

She didn’t need to purge herself to him now. Tell him how she’d got to this place in her life. How she’d felt so displaced until he’d brought her back to life last night. He’d find out what he needed to know soon enough. Then it would only be a matter of time before she received her marching orders.

“Can you walk?” He dismounted the bike but kept his sunglasses in place. “I’ll organise a motorised buggy if you’re not sure of your ankle.”

A sea breeze peeled through his dark hair, making it dance above the widow’s peak, but his expression—or what she could see of it—remained unmoved. She hated his stiffness, that formal air. A few hours ago they’d talked and laughed and made the sweetest, and at other times wildest love. Now she had trouble imagining how the firm line of that mouth had pressed such tender affection upon her. The most beautiful time of her life was over.

“I’m fine to walk,” she told him, determined to hold onto what remained of her dignity. “Thank you.”

The mirrors of his glasses flashed in the sunlight as his head dipped a margin. “Can I make an appointment for our doctor to check out your leg and that bump on your head?”

“You’ve done enough.”

Bittersweet longing ribboned around her heart. Yes, he’d done more than enough. He’d saved her life. She was standing here only because of this man’s action and focus. That debt could never be repaid. If she felt gutted now, if she wished things could be different—that time could somehow rewind—she needed to remember she’d been given a second chance and go from there.

She headed off towards her quarters. Her vision had blurred and her heart was steadily sinking when that rich, deep voice came from behind her.

“Nina. Wait.”

Her breath caught. After dashing a tear away, she spun back round. Sunglasses removed, he stood before her in those sexy jeans, his legs braced apart.

“I want you to have dinner with me tonight,” he stated.

The unexpected thrill of having him follow her flashed brighter before it fizzled out. Dinner with Gabriel sounded like heaven, but any liaison was out of the question. When he found out who and what she was, he’d understand why.

“Gabriel, please—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” He took both her hands in his, and the smile that made her melt sparkled up in his eyes. “You know it won’t do any good to argue.” When she squared her shoulders and stood her shaky ground, he shrugged. “I could always sweep you up and carry you off. It’s worked before.”

A laugh almost escaped.

From churlish to charming—and Gabriel’s charming was so very hard to resist. But she had no choice. Now they were back at the resort, and their positions had changed so dramatically they couldn’t go back to “last night.”

She was working up another refusal when she spotted a woman in staff uniform gaping over at her: Tori Scribbins—Nina’s roommate, and one of her few friends here. Tori’s hand went theatrically to her heart and she pretended to faint. Nina’s smile broke, and Gabriel’s face slanted into her line of vision. With a precision movement he angled her, and next Nina knew she was shrieking with surprise, back in the cradle of those indomitable arms.

Her first instinct was to slap his shoulder, insist he let her down, but more powerful was the knowledge that he wasn’t giving up on her. He never seemed to give up.

Maybe, just maybe …

Was it too stupid to hope again?

But she’d need to explain what was so difficult to put into words—how she’d come to be on this island, why she’d felt so lost—and she couldn’t do that here. They needed privacy. She had a shift in the kitchen that ended at nine tonight. If she went to his bungalow after that …

He’d begun to stride off, but she pushed against his chest to pull him up.

“I’m busy till nine,” she shot out.

His pace died while his crooked smile grew. “Which restaurant do you prefer?”

“Can we eat in? At your place?”

The sparkle in his eyes heated up. “It’s a date.”

Out the corner of her eye Nina spied Tori, leaning against the doorjamb of the room she must be cleaning; her jaw had dropped to the floor. She guessed this scene would look pretty remarkable … a strong, handsome, determined man whisking Nina the waitress away.

Tori was a true romantic. She’d be hearing wedding bells and planning honeymoons. Nina wouldn’t presume to think that far ahead, but perhaps this rollercoaster Cinderella story might have some kind of happy ending after all.

Gabriel was saying, “Now I’ve got you, I might as well carry you to your room.”

Her room was small and bare and in the staff quarters. No reason she couldn’t get everything off her chest there—but no guarantee he would take the news well. Right or wrong, weak or strong, she wanted to hold onto hope as long as she could. Besides, she needed to get to her shift and he needed to get to work …

To his elimination plan.

“I don’t want to be carried.” But she smiled when she added, “And don’t bother arguing this one. Put me down and I promise I’ll see you after nine.”

He studied her eyes, then reluctantly lowered her to her feet. He stole a lingering kiss from her cheek and murmured near her ear, “I’ll have the champagne poured.”

After she’d watched him stride away around a clump of pygmy date palms, Nina turned back to Tori, who was madly waving her over.

When Nina reached her roommate, Tori swept her into the suite and clapped the door shut.

Tori’s coffee-coloured eyes were dancing with excitement. Her large watermelon wedge earrings swung as she clasped her hands under her chin and literally jumped up and down.

“When you didn’t come in last night I didn’t know what to think. I was going to call the alert if you weren’t back by lunch. Now I understand why you went missing. My only question is … why are you back so soon? You should have called in a sickie.”

Nine chewed her lip. She shouldn’t blab. She didn’t want to risk her secret leaking out before seeing Gabriel tonight. But she simply had to talk. She was bursting to spill about the first good thing to have happened to her in weeks.

They’d moved into the main room and now sat together on the massive semi-circular couch which faced a breathtaking view. The flutter in Nina’s stomach beat faster as she told all about her fantastical evening—up to the point where her cliff-top angel had confessed his true identity as owner of the Diamond Shores Resort.

Tori slumped against the silk brocade cushions and held her cheeks. “Oh. My. Gosh. I’d have passed out. He owns the place? Everything?” Nina nodded and Tori tipped closer. “When are you going to see him again?”

“Tonight. After my shift.”

“Are you going to tell him who you are before or after?”

“Before or after what?”

“He throws you down and ravages you, of course.”

Nina’s sucked down a breath. No use denying she wanted that to happen. A few minutes away from him seemed like an hour. An hour would seem like a week. By tonight she would be near ready to throw herself at him.

But she couldn’t afford any more delays. The longer she kept her secret from Gabriel, the more chance he had of finding out the truth. It was better the news came from her.

“I’ll tell him as soon as I get there.”

They would either kiss, and the fun times would be on again, or he would not be amused and would refuse to contribute to delinquent behaviour as far as resort standards and reputation were concerned. Then again he was the boss. He could make new rules.

Sinking further into the couch, Tori draped her arms over her head and spoke to the rattan fan, circulating air around the vaulted wood beam ceiling. “I bet he kisses like a dream.”

Nina recalled the sensation of Gabriel’s lips covering hers … the way his mouth had coaxed her into sublime submission. “He kisses better than a dream.”

He was drop-dead delectable. That body. That face. That creamy, dreamy voice.

“Maybe he has a brother you could introduce me to?” Tori pushed up and, sashaying over to her vacuum cleaner, gave her watermelon earring a sassy flick. “I could handle putting my duster out to pasture.”

Nina was watching that earring swing. “You could get in trouble, wearing those.” No jewellery was allowed other than studs and a watch. Mr Dorset, the general manager, was a stickler for dress code. Mr Dorset was a stickler for every rule.

Tori struck a pose oozing with attitude. “You’re playing ‘to the manner born’ and I might get in trouble?”

The joke was that Nina was to the manner born. She hadn’t appreciated the privileges she’d enjoyed growing up. She hadn’t missed them when she’d had a well-paid job. Her life had seemed full. She’d been good at what she’d done. Her colleagues had respected her and vice versa.

Tori was deep in thought, fingering that earring. “If you ask me, management need to loosen up. Don’t be overly friendly with the guests,” she sing-songed. “Don’t cough in public or we’ll dock your pay.”

“You wouldn’t be docked for coughing.” Unless it was excessive.

Adjusting the vacuum head, Tori sent her a dry look. “This place needs a darn good shake-up. And you can tell your rich boyfriend that from me.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Tori stepped on the power, the vacuum roared to life, and she swung her hips in a hoola circle. “Work it, baby.”

Promising to give Tori an update, either tomorrow or later that night, depending on how things went, Nina headed off to change. But she was preoccupied with hoping things would go well, buoyed by fond thoughts of her previous job back in Sydney. She’d belonged at Shimmer magazine in a way she would never belong here. One thing was certain. She needed to feel that sense of belonging again.

While dragging her uniform out from the single-door wardrobe, the phone extension caught Nina’s eye. She’d asked the receptionist at Shimmer to keep her ear to the ground; sometimes management cut too many corners and people were needed back to fill the gaps. So why not take the initiative and call?

A moment later a voice Nina didn’t recognise answered the connection in Sydney, and Nina cleared her throat. “Hello. Would Abbey King be there?”

“Abbey left last week. Can anyone else help?”

Nina’s stomach bottomed out. Abbey was gone too? “Uh, I’m not sure who’s there any more.”

“May I ask who’s speaking?”

“Nina Petrelle.”

“And you’re enquiring about …?”

“I used to work there.”

The receptionist’s tone changed, became low and flat. “Shimmer have no vacancies at this time.”

Nina’s hand fisted around the receiver as suffocating heat crept up her neck.

I was in charge of Features, she wanted to say. I used to buy a latte with extra sprinkles every morning before work. I used to sit around the boardroom and discuss upcoming stories and strategies with my colleagues. I was part of that office, dammit!

The receptionist’s voice infiltrated the red haze. “Hello? Were you calling about a job?”

Nina set her teeth. “I already have a job.”

She slammed the receiver down.

Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.

If she started she might not be able to stop, because that same draining question was whispering again in her mind …

Who are you? Where will you end up?

She knew she would survive. It was just a matter of staying strong.

But if Gabriel threw her out tonight she didn’t know what she’d do.

With a spring in his step, Gabriel headed down the wide slate path, which was lined by a jungle of lush tropical garden. Unwilling to admit defeat, he’d made a no-holds-barred play to see Nina again and she’d acquiesced. He wasn’t prepared to throw in the towel without at least writing a closing chapter to their beach-side affair.

When he’d told her that he owned this island resort initially he’d thought she was embarrassed. Then he’d thought she was being a princess, and then he’d surmised that he’d merely lost his appeal. But when she’d walked away, resigned yet also somehow brave, he’d known something more lay behind her change in attitude.

He remembered their conversation the previous night … the way she’d opened up.

What had knocked the wind out of her? he wondered. She’d said she wanted to know who she was. He’d blamed her general dislike of the resort on service and facilities, but after seeing how bereft she’d looked before he’d called her back, he knew it went deeper than that. The obstacle, the crisis bringing her down, was waiting for her here.

Something dug into his hip. He reached and pulled a shell from his pocket. Before leaving this morning he’d found it on the bathroom shelf. Knowing Nina must have left it there, on impulse he’d taken it with him. He focused on the shell’s decorative rays and remembered Nina’s incredible smile.

He held the shell tighter.

He wouldn’t rest until A: he found out all of Nina’s story, and B: he fixed whatever was wrong. If she needed an ally, no matter how busy he got here, he’d be it.

“Excuse me, Mr Steele?”

Gabe wheeled around. Horace Dorset, General Manager of Diamond Shores Resort, was striding up the path. Dorset, with a lemon rosebud adorning his lapel, gave him a pleasant, enquiring look. “Everything well with you, sir?”

“I received your message,” said Gabe. Dorset wanted to speak with him about standardising staff prerequisites. Good plan, but not now. “I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

Dorset nodded, but didn’t bow off. “I see you’ve introduced yourself to some of the staff.”

Gabriel cast his mind back. “No. Only the managers.”

“The young lady …?”

Young lady? He meant Nina?

Gabriel laughed. “You’re mistaken. Nina’s a guest.” Dorset’s brows slanted, then he shook his head. “You’re confusing her with someone else,’ Gabriel pointed out. Although he wasn’t sure how anyone could mistake an air that confirmed an impeccable upbringing … the way she held herself … the way she spoke.

Dorset thought she was staff? Absurd.

And yet Dorset kept looking at him with something like pity pinching his brows.

Gabriel thought more, then waved an impatient arm towards the hotel. “I saw her go into her room, for God’s sake.”

“Not her room, Mr Steele. A housekeeping trolley was outside. Perhaps Nina entered to help another staff member clean.”

Gabriel probed Dorset’s cool gaze. If Dorset thought this was funny, he wasn’t laughing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The woman you saw is a waitress. Nina Petrelle started with Diamond Shores six weeks ago.” Dorset’s shoulders rolled back. “We like to pride ourselves on our standards, and I’m afraid Nina has made one too many errors. I’ve been patient so far, but this episode, withholding her identity from a guest—from you, Mr Steele—is an infringement that cannot be ignored. Measures must be taken.”

Gabriel’s mind felt frozen. He opened his palm and glared at the shell. Had he heard her name right?

“The staff are well aware of our number one rule,” Dorset continued. “No fraternising with guests. I want you to know I’m very strict on that. It can be tempting for a single young woman to covet what others here enjoy—”

Gabriel shot up a hand. He was interested in only one thing. “What did you say her name was?”

“Nina.”

“Last name?”

“Petrelle.”

Nina Petrelle. Anthony Petrelle’s baby sister?

A thousand memories flashed through his mind—playing touch in the Petrelles’ enormous manicured backyard … surfing at Bondi that last summer … Anthony’s sister, that right little madam, sticking it to him every chance she got. If she wasn’t jeering at his favourite shoes, she was niggling about his numerous after-school jobs, or insisting he should do them all a favour and buy a new pair of glasses.

She’d been the kind of over-indulged kid who had a tantrum if no one noticed the new designer ribbon in her silky blonde hair. Nina Petrelle had been the poster girl for spoilt rotten. But for the sake of his friendship with Anthony, who’d been as down to earth as the next bloke, he’d kept his mouth shut.

Gabriel shook his brain and came back to the present.

How the tables had turned. When he’d known Nina last his surname had been Turner, his mother’s name. But if Nina didn’t recognise him, he sure as hell hadn’t recognised her. For one, she was twice the size—and in all the right places. Her hair was six shades darker too.

He remembered her body writhing beneath him in the firelight last night and his insides twisted.

He’d made love to Nina Petrelle?

Dorset’s voice cut into his thoughts. “Mr Steele, I apologise for her behaviour. Gold-digging will not be tolerated here. I’ll go speak with her now.”

As Dorset moved off, Gabriel gripped the older man’s forearm. His tone was close to dangerous. “I don’t want you to say or do a thing with regard to Miss Petrelle.”

“I—I beg your pardon—?”

“You heard me.” He released Dorset’s arm. “I’ll handle this.”

Dorset opened his mouth to protest, but when Gabriel glowered Dorset nodded, although clearly unhappy with the decision. “As you wish.”

Gabriel continued on to his accommodation, the shell tucked inside one clenched hand. He felt as if his chest had been rammed by a tree trunk.

Yes, when she’d told him her name he’d thought twice, but she looked nothing like the squirt who’d hung around and annoyed the crap out of him all those years ago. What was she doing working here? Her family was loaded.

Perhaps they’d had a falling out? She obviously needed money—badly enough to hunt down and snare herself a millionaire. Although her near drowning must have been an accident; no one would risk their life that way. But clearly she’d taken advantage of the situation from there, playing him with a combination of coy and sassy to see which stoked his fires best.

Let someone have faith in you again, she’d said. Hell, he’d really thought she’d cared.

He kicked open his front door.

What a schmuck!

As he stood in the foyer of his bungalow, another thought sprang to mind.

Nina knew he owned this island, but she didn’t know who he was—or rather who he’d been: Gabe Turner, her brother’s egghead friend, the “pauper” she’d lived to humiliate. The guy who’d kept his lip buttoned while she tried to put him in his place.

Gabriel’s smile was more a sneer.

He couldn’t wait to see her face when she found out.

But a greater challenge awaited her. Not only was Nina a down-on-her-luck gold-digger, according to Dorset she was no good at her job. How on earth had she got a position here in the first place?

But the bigger question was …

He dropped the shell and ground it beneath his heel.

How soon could he get rid of her?

CHAPTER EIGHT

AFTER her shift in the kitchen, Nina showered, slipped into a light summer dress, and made her way to Gabriel Steele’s ultra-private bungalow. Her throat was tight with nerves and her stomach was riding a rollercoaster by the time she dropped the knocker on the imposing double doors. After several moments, when no one answered, she dared to turn the handle and ease inside.

Towering potted palms, mirror-polished marble counters, exquisitely crafted teak furniture, fresh sprays of exotic flowers … Surrounded by such luxury, in “guest” versus “employee” mode, she felt the dizzy scent of excess fill her head.

Spending last night with Gabriel in that cabin had been like a beautiful elixir, a once-in-a-lifetime experience which would live for ever in her mind and her heart. Being here in this setting, about to be with Gabriel again, was possibly an even headier thrill. After spending hours packing dishwashers, the sight of that cushiony white couch was almost enough to convince her that indulgence—this kind of over-the-top lavish extravagance—wasn’t so offensive after all. She would love to lie back on the couch and put her feet up.

Massaging the weary small of her spine, she did another sweep of the main room. Gabriel wasn’t here. Limping slightly, she edged towards the opened concertina doors.

The full moon spilled a shimmering river of gold across an otherwise black sea. The scent of salt and natural floral perfumes filled the warm air, and on the deck Gabriel stood with a phone pressed to his ear. He wore dark tailored trousers and a crisp white Oxford shirt. His sleeves were rolled to below the elbow, leaving tanned corded forearms exposed. His dark hair was freshly showered, wet and stylishly messy.

The overall picture—complete with a vee of wiry hair visible at his throat and broad shoulders adorned in silk weave—was enough for Nina to clutch at her fast-beating heart. She hadn’t thought he could be more attractive than when she’d first seen him—muscles pumped and bare chest battle-whipped.

She’d been wrong.

Without trying, he dominated any scene.

Angling around, Gabriel spotted her. He nodded twice into the phone, gave a parting remark, then disconnected and moved towards her.

“Important call?” she asked, when she might easily have said, The sight of you turns my legs to jelly.

“My second in charge,” he said, sauntering nearer. “Zane Rutley knows as much about my company as I do, but he likes to keep me up to date. Says there’s no rest for the wicked.”

“You’ve known him long?”

“Since university. We duxed Management Accounting and Strategy.”

“Ooh, bad boys.”

He grinned. “I can’t speak for Zane.”

She didn’t know about Zane Rutley either, but Gabriel Steele could make any woman melt at a hundred paces. His every move was measured, exact, and at the same time effected with inherent masculine grace. Her cheeks heated. Although he hadn’t touched her yet, she was already simmering inside.

When he stopped before her, she expected his mouth to break into his trademark sexy-as-sin smile. She expected him to sweep her up and kiss her as he’d kissed her through the magical hours of last night. But his lopsided grin remained fixed, and the gleam in his eye seemed somehow … cool.

She felt a little off balance when his fingers curled around her arm and his freshly shaved cheek rubbed lightly against hers.

His lips brushed her temple. “How was your afternoon?”

“Busy.” Her ankle throbbed to punctuate the point.

He drew away and assessed her butter-yellow dress, his gaze deliberately trailing her shape in a vaguely predatory fashion before he ushered her, a hand on her elbow, towards the outdoor setting.

He indicated an ice bucket. “Champagne?”

“You said you’d have it poured,” she teased.

“Nothing worse than when bubbles go flat.”

He popped the cork, and foam spilled over the rim to darken the timber near his feet. To take her mind off his intoxicating sandalwood scent, she inspected the champagne label.

“My father used to keep a couple of bottles of that for special occasions.”

“It’s a rare vintage.” He handed her a glass. “Is your father here with you on the island?”

The breath went out of her. “He died a few years ago.”

His gaze jumped up from his pouring of a second glass. His searching eyes clouded and his voice dropped. “Nina … I’m sorry.”

She sighed quietly. Gabriel could be so strong, yet there were times, like now, he could be so sensitive. As if he truly knew her. Knew her like no one else could.

But then he cleared his throat, raised his glass to his lips, and the deeper moment was gone.

“I bumped into someone this afternoon.” He sipped, swallowed. “He told me the most fascinating story.”

He was watching her over the rim of his glass and the glint in his eyes now seemed almost steely. She’d seen a few sides to Gabriel—uncompromising hero, charmer, believer, lover. When they’d left the cabin this morning he’d been cagey. But the vibes she caught now didn’t fit with any of that.

That pointed gleam in his gaze was enough to make her shiver. Who was the “someone” he’d spoken with?

She sipped champagne without tasting it and when he didn’t divulge more she asked, “What did this man say?”

A humourless smile tugged one side of his mouth. “I thought you might like to tell me.”

Her breath died in her chest. She closed her eyes as her stomach rolled over twice, then sank to her knees. Her throat convulsed and she swallowed.

“You know.”

His chin went up. “I know.”

She’d been caught out before she’d had the chance to come clean. Someone had let on that she was an employee of the island and, given the hard line of his jaw, Gabriel wasn’t pleased.

She managed to keep her voice steady. “Gabriel, let me explain—”

“I will. But first …”

His palm scooped behind her neck and his mouth opened over hers. The lip-to-lip contact sent jets of recognition shooting through her veins. Every cell in her body seemed to tremble, light up and press in. The renewed awareness was so strong, so vital, it was all she could do to remember that …

That this kiss was different.

Rougher.

Dominating.

When their lips parted, her world had slanted and the room seemed to spin. A pulse beat wildly in his cheek, and if he released her there was every possibility she might slide to the floor. As if reading her thoughts, he dragged out a chair. Numbness taking over, she fell into the seat.

“I took the liberty of ordering,” he told her, gesturing to the silver domes set on the table while her mind whirled on. He lifted one dome and the aroma of lobster mornay, scalloped potatoes and buttered asparagus filled her lungs.

He folded into the adjacent slat-backed chair.

“Before you tell your story, Nina, I thought you might like to know more about mine.” He removed his dome, then his napkin flicked out with a snap. “I became aware that Diamond Shores’ previous owner was interested in a buy-out when I paid for April’s wedding and reception. She has no family. After her dedication to her job these past five years, that gift was the least I could do.” He nodded amicably at her plate. “Eat before it gets cold.”

Her limbs were fifty-pound weights. Her lips and tongue were rubber.

“I … I’m not very hungry.”

He collected his cutlery and continued his thread. “You know the resort is running at a loss,” he said, in a monotone that still managed to send heatwaves shimmering over her skin. “The hand-over was low-key. Making my presence known here only to the managers was a strategic decision. It’s difficult to get an accurate idea of performance when fanfares announce your every move. I needed a clear indication of which heads should roll.”

His gaze, holding hers, was both ablaze and cold as a snowstorm. An arctic chill chased up her spine. She couldn’t bear the stomach knots a moment longer.

“I was features editor for a teen magazine,” she got out, clenching the napkin beside her plate. “I was retrenched along with others. I needed a job, but there was nothing available in publishing. It was all I knew.”

All she was.

“That was your crisis?” he surmised, and she nodded. His napkin patted one corner of his mouth. “How did you get a job here?”

“A friend’s father knew the owner. The former owner.” Or so it seemed.

“You had no experience?”

“Next to none.”

His short laugh was abrasive. “No wonder the place is sinking.”

She set her teeth, but continued, “Alice said the hours would be long but the money was good. I could make my mortgage repayments.” Blindly studying her plate, she leaned back. “I didn’t want to lose my house.”

When she levelled her gaze at him, something almost human flashed across his face. But then he took a mouthful of champagne and placed the glass down heavily.

“And yesterday?”

“Was my first afternoon off in what seemed like for ever,” she said. “I was physically and emotionally drained. Most of the staff don’t like me, you see. And it’s true I have a lot to learn. They have every right to feel undervalued. That doesn’t help the way I feel.” Lonely. Very nearly hopeless. “Yesterday I wanted to get as far away from the resort as I could. I started walking, collecting shells to send to my baby nephew back in Sydney.”

“Nephew?”

“My sister’s baby. Codie’s six months old. Jill’s a single mum. She deferred her Masters in Biology to look after him for the first couple of years and—” She stopped, sighed. “You’re really not interested in any of that, are you?”

Gabriel held his impassive face. She was a consummate manipulator, trying to find his vulnerable spot even now. Years had passed, but nothing had changed. Nina was used to getting what she wanted, and it seemed she wanted his sympathy. Wanted him to bail her out.

This afternoon, when he’d uncovered her game, his chest had filled with rage. Having known the princess fourteen-year-old Nina Petrelle had been, he’d easily joined the dots. He had no idea where the Petrelle fortune had gone, but the woman sitting across from him, trying to tug at his heartstrings, needed money badly enough to don an apron. She’d lucked out when he’d come bounding along yesterday to save her. She’d played her cards well and he’d fallen for her.

To a degree.

He didn’t like to be deceived. He’d envisaged sacking her on the spot, throwing her out of her lodgings. He’d imagined the crocodile tears, her pleas, those attempts to use her femme fatale skills to get her way. In hindsight he believed only one thing she’d said.

She wanted to find herself—aka needed to have, to hold, real money again.

His money.

His lips stretched over his teeth.

Time for Act II.

“You might recall I said I’d known a Nina once.” He collected his cutlery again and cut into firm asparagus. “Tell me, have you ever known anyone else called Gabriel?”

His comment pulled Nina up. Her nape prickled with a different kind of awareness as she nodded. “A friend of my brother’s. Gabe Turner.”

“What else do you remember?”

“He was a stuffed-shirt geek who my brother, for some reason, adored.” That horrid gnawing in her gut deepened. She studied the man sitting opposite and instinctively sat back. “Why do you want to know?”

His ice-blue gaze held hers for an endless moment before he announced, “Because that Gabe is this Gabe. Gabriel Turner is me.”

Nina wanted to throw back her head and laugh. She’d never heard anything so ridiculous. Instead she paused to consider the statement more deeply.

“No,” she groaned, slowly shaking her head. “You said … your name is Steele.”

But from the start hadn’t there been a distant whisper of this? Seeing him standing on that cliff a second before she’d passed out … even then he’d seemed somehow familiar. This man—the man she’d shared a bed with—he couldn’t possibly be that stiff, zero taste, no personality dweeb she remembered from all those years ago.

Could he?

“Turner was my mother’s name,” he said. “My aunt’s name. When I made amends with my father in my late teens, I took his name. Steele.”

She snapped shut her hanging jaw. “But those ugly sun-sensitive glasses?”

“Laser surgery.”

“Your hair?”

“Comb-overs were never in.”

“You look … taller.”

“I grew.”

“You’re rich.”

He grinned. “Yes, I am.”

She studied his face again, and every molecule of oxygen seeped from her lungs.

Oh, God. It was true.

Her fingers started to tingle and her heart began to pound. She needed a paper bag before she hyperventilated and passed out.

“Faith, my aunt, passed away five years ago from a stroke,” he said, colouring in the rest. “My father died from a coronary not long after we met.”

Her vision clouded and tunnelled in. Aunt Faith … yes, she remembered. His story fitted, but her brain was too overloaded to offer condolences.

As a thousand memories rained down in a battering gale, she peered into Gabe’s hard gaze and somehow managed to set her priorities straight. Not having seen her for well over a decade, Gabe Turner had shown up out of the blue and saved her life?

It was magical thinking, but she wondered whether her brother had had a hand in his buddy being in the right place at the right time. Anthony had always looked out for her in a cool, big-brother kind of way. She only wished someone had been there to look out for him when he’d needed it.

Her brow tingled.

Last night Gabriel had said he’d lost someone close. Someone who’d had faith in him when he’d had little in himself. Anthony.

An image dawned—a clear snapshot of her brother’s face—and despite the situation Nina’s mouth twitched. The image zoomed in to show Anthony’s confounded expression and a smile twitched again.

Gabriel pushed his plate aside. “You think this is funny?”

“Can you imagine what Anthony would say if he knew? He’d be thinking what a huge joke this was on us both. Gabe Turner hated me, I hated Gabe Turner more, and Anthony … well, he loved us both.”

She’d hated the way Gabe Turner had ignored her. Hated those revolting glasses. Hated the fact that his clothes were dull from too many washes and yet he still filled out trousers better than any boy she’d known. Worse, while he’d struggled to afford new socks, he’d always held his head so high. As if he was better than everyone else. Certainly better than her.

Now Gabe Turner was a wealthy man of the world. A gorgeous multimillionaire with whom she’d made love until both were so spent neither could draw another breath.

Her stomach double-flipped.

Her and Geeky Gabe. How totally weird was that?

She must have been staring at him because he pulled in his chin. “What?”

“Don’t you want to know?”

“Know what?”

“Why, when my family was so wealthy, I’m waitressing now.”

His gaze skimmed her lips, his jaw flexed, then he crossed his arms over that big delectable chest. “That question had crossed my mind.”

She was happy to answer. There happened to be a question he might be able to answer for her in return.

“Anthony’s death really shook my parents up,” she told him. “Me and Jill too, but we were young enough not to understand the full weight of the situation. That Anthony really wasn’t coming home and our lives would never be the same. He’d been the jewel in the crown of our family. Everyone loved Anthony. For a long time no one could accept he was gone.”

Gabriel’s arms slowly unravelled. “It was a tragic accident.”

“He loved speed and the idea of taking chances, pushing the limits.” Anthony had skinned his elbows and knees more than once shooting the bowl on his skateboard. “He said he was either going into the air force or to work for National Security as a secret agent.”

A distant smile shone in Gabriel’s eyes. “He’d have done it too. He had the smarts as well as the guts.”

The question burned on the tip of her tongue. She’d wanted to know for such a long time, only she hadn’t thought anyone would know—not even her father, who’d loved Anthony better than anyone. But Gabe and her brother had been so close.

“Anthony must have known he couldn’t possibly do it,” she murmured. “Not in the dead of night. The fact that the place was cursed would’ve been enough to keep me away.” She cast Gabriel—Gabe—an imploring look over the candlelit table. “Did he talk to you about going there?”

Maintaining a thousand-yard stare past her shoulder, he slanted his head and finally nodded.

Nina’s attention picked up, but rather than sharing, Gabriel only thinned the line of his mouth.

“We knew it was some kind of a dare,” she prodded. “I heard my parents talking about Roger someone.”

“Roger Maxwell.”

“That’s it. He dared Anthony to scale the north face of Mount Spectre near your school. It had something to do with a girl Anthony liked.”

“Roger started ribbing Anthony in front of her,” said Gabe, in a low, gravelled tone. “Saying he was a wimp, a chicken, which was the most idiotic thing I’d ever heard. When Anthony laughed it off and went to walk away Roger challenged him. It was only because Roger liked this girl too, and Anthony knew it. Anthony laughed again—until the girl asked whether he was afraid of the curse.”

Nina remembered. “A jilted lover was supposed to have jumped to his death there a hundred years ago. He became a ghost who guarded the peak and gave anyone who climbed such a fright that they’d rather fall to their death than face him.”

“Anthony wanted a trial run up the cliffside first,” he said. “Without Roger and the others looking on.”

“I can’t believe he risked his life to impress a girl.”

“He wanted me to come along.”

What? She sat forward. “You were there? My parents didn’t ever tell me.”

His jaw clenched. “I told him the only way I’d go was if I could manage to catch him when he fell. I knew he could be stubborn, but I didn’t think he’d try it. I was so angry with him.” He blinked and his voice deepened. “Angrier with myself.”

She knew how Gabriel felt … somehow responsible … wanting to rework history. She’d wanted to be there for Anthony too, to convince him not to be so foolish, and all for the sake of a bet. But no amount of wishing or blame would bring her brother back.

“He made the decision to climb that rock,” she assured Gabriel now. “No one else.”

His eyes burned into space. “I was his best friend. I should’ve talked him out of it. Or physically held him back.”

The way he’d physically held her back yesterday, when he’d dragged her out of the surf and she’d refused to listen to sound advice? She’d thought at the time he was being bossy, but he’d only had her best interests at heart when he’d made sure she’d lain still in case of concussion. All those years ago when she’d hated him—or thought she had—she’d recognised that strength in him too.

Natural. Unswerving.

In her mind she saw Gabriel standing on the very edge of that cliff, the wind gusting through his hair and opened shirt, as if he was daring the gods to force him off. Her gaze roamed the lines of his face and understanding crept in. Now she knew who he was, how their pasts were connected, it seemed obvious.

“You were thinking about my brother yesterday, weren’t you?”

One dark eyebrow arched and he leant back. “I didn’t set out to climb to the island’s highest point. Heights and I don’t mix well. I’d had a quiet, uneventful bushwalk in mind, to clear my mind before heading back to the cabin.” His gaze dropped and he reached for his glass. “Then you happened along.”

She fought the urge to reach over and touch his hand. “Anthony would’ve been so proud if he’d seen you dashing to my rescue.”

His eyes snapped up, but then a shadow of a smile hovered at the corners of his mouth. His gaze held hers, and as the moment wound down the space between them seemed to thrum with a different, deeper meaning.

But then he sucked back a breath and shoved to his feet. Glaring at the dark rolling sea, he drove a hand through his hair, then set his fists low on his hips. “None of that makes any difference.”

“Any difference to what?”

He faced her. “Nina, you can’t stay.”

Air seeped from her lungs. The present and its challenges rose up again and she slumped.

“You’re sacking me.” Not a question. Rather a flat-line statement.

What had she expected? A reunion with balloons and a rendition of “Auld Lang Syne”? Bottom line: no matter what vow she’d made to improve, she was a less than competent waitress, and those who didn’t perform must be eliminated.

Regardless of the way they’d made love last night, this evening it was Goodbye, Nina.

Gabriel turned back to face the ocean, wringing his hands on the rail.

He’d had the scenario worked out. Announce that he knew her identity, then slap her with the final slam-dunk details of his own. Nina had deceived him. Dorset must have thought him a fool to fall for her act. No one manipulated him the way she had and got away with it—particularly when this Nina was the obnoxious teen who years ago had rattled his cage any chance she’d got.

And yet—

Dropping his chin, Gabriel clenched the rail and let out a quiet groan.

After speaking about Anthony, he could practically hear his best mate demanding he do something to help his little sister, and do it now. No matter how much he might want to, he couldn’t and wouldn’t ignore it. Anthony had been too good a friend. God knew why he’d befriended him, the geek, but Gabriel would never forget it.

But throwing money at Nina didn’t seem right. He’d never taken charity; Anthony wouldn’t have wanted hand-outs either. If Nina was hoping for a signed blank cheque—sorry, not happening.

Keeping her on here was out of the question too. Turning this place around depended on sticking to the narrow but profitable road. Not even Anthony’s memory could influence him to jeopardise that success.

There was only one solution. For Anthony’s sake—for the sake of what he and Nina had shared last night—he would help find her more suitable employment. Somewhere she could shine, find herself again. And if she gave him any cheek about it …

His mind made up, he angled back. “I have contacts in the industry.”

She dragged her gaze from her untouched plate. “What industry?”

“Publishing. I’ll set up an interview or two in Sydney.”

Her eyes widened and she pushed to her feet. Her mouth worked soundlessly before she breathed out, “You’d do that for me?”

She could be near her sister and nephew, earn decent money. Keep her home. All she had to do was take a job which would be created after he pulled a few strings and stay the hell out of his life. His head—his pride—had been messed with enough.

But she was sighing and shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t let you do that.”

His temper spiked. “Why the hell not?”

“I can’t accept a job I haven’t won on my own merit.”

Well, she’d done it before, to get her job here. And sleeping with a rich stranger to get a leg up apparently wasn’t taboo either.

He leaned back against the rail and slid his hands into his trouser pockets. “Off nepotism? That’s very noble.”

“Not noble. I’ve learned my lesson. Next time I move on, it’ll be to something I’ve earned.”

His eyes narrowed on hers. She was playing him again, and, damn, she was good at it.

“Let me put it this way,” he said. “You need a job, a job that you know, and I insist on helping you make that happen.”

Her lips pressed together. “No.”

He withdrew his hands from his pockets. “Not even if it’ll get you back home to your family? I thought you wanted to rediscover yourself—you can’t do that here.”

“You’re right. I can’t. Not completely. But I have to believe that my reputation and credentials will get me the right job at the right time. I don’t know that I’d ever be able to gain the respect of the staff here. I won’t make that mistake twice. I won’t jump the queue and take on something I don’t deserve.”

He stopped less than an arm’s length away, and instantly the space between them crackled with heat. Despite their disagreeable past, and the battlefield they occupied now, the grooves in his mind slotted back into blistering memories of last night and the undeniable force that clawed at him whenever she was near.

He set his jaw. Got a grip. Slapped that mental wall back up.

“Nina, you can’t continue to work here.”

Her slim nostrils flared before she slowly nodded. “I understand. I do.” She glanced over their cold meals. “If it’s all the same with you, I won’t stay for dessert.”

She turned, and even as his throat and chest burned he noticed her limp as she walked through into the main room.

And don’t bother with the lame act to get sympathy either, he wanted to call after her. He wasn’t that much of a sucker.

But when the limp seemed to get worse, the further she walked, Gabriel scrubbed his jaw.

Working all afternoon and half the night, she must have been on her feet the whole time. From Mr Dorset’s account, Nina would know she didn’t have another card up her sleeve; she couldn’t call in sick or beg off early. Had the doctor even checked her out? Gabriel would bet not.

He dragged his hand down his face, tried to come up with another way. Then, cursing under his breath, he strode off to catch her up. This woman would drive him nuts.

“For God’s sake, Nina, come back and sit down.”

The way she was going she’d only cause herself more harm.

When she kept walking Anthony’s shadow breathed down Gabriel’s neck, and the voice in his head—over his shoulder—grew louder.

Stop her. Make her listen. She’s hurt. She’s my sister and she needs your help!

Gabriel put some steel in his voice. “Nina.”

“I’m going.”

“Going where?”

She angled back. “I’m looking forward to finding out.”

She was so stubborn. So annoying, and so … amazingly attractive. As her eyes glistened into his, his heartbeat boomed in his ears and he knew to his soul what had to be done.

The pull—this fierce physical attraction—was too strong to ignore. No matter how many times she walked away, he would have to bring her back because what he’d tried to block from his mind all the long day would happen. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. They would make love again and she’d better prepare herself.

The way he was feeling, last night had only been practice.

CHAPTER NINE

GABRIEL strode over and drew her body hard against his. As his mouth came crashing down upon hers, Nina braced herself not to weaken.

In a way, she’d expected this. This man’s middle name might be “irresistible,” but after that discussion she would rather jump from a plane without a parachute than confirm the terrible, wonderful heat his kiss stirred deep inside her.

He wanted her gone. No problem.

She was going.

Go … ing …

After several breathtaking, ultra-persuasive moments, the kiss softly broke and Gabriel’s hot-lidded gaze brushed over her face. His fingertips traced hair from her brow and he murmured, “Are you listening now?”

She swallowed, but held her chin high. “No.”

He kissed her again, and those defences crumbled more. Her head told her to pull back, to slap his face; who did he think he was, assaulting her like this? Her body, on the other hand, whispered to her heart to press in more.

His kisses only got better.

When his lips left hers a second time, her breathing was tellingly deep. A practised hand skimmed her side before he took a lingering kiss from her temple, her cheek. To stop herself from snaking her arms around his neck, she fisted his shirt in her hands.

Feeling giddy, she groaned, “What do you want from me?”

He cupped her chin. “You have to ask?”

She closed her eyes and prayed. She had to clear her foggy brain. Had to keep smart. Keep strong.

“You’re Gabe Turner,” she reminded herself. “You sacked me.” Her eyes opened. “If you think I’ll sleep with you again, you’ve got rocks in your head.”

He scooped her up into his arms and began to walk.

She managed to straighten to a board as her stomach pitched. “I’ll scream.”

His mouth hooked into the sexiest of smiles. “Promise?”

As he carried her into his bedroom, Nina told herself she should struggle and demand he set her down. She had to put this rabid sexual thirst away. Lock the door and throw away the double-edged key. Because, while this might seem a natural extension of their previous smouldering night together, tomorrow she would pay the price.

She’d already lost her job. She didn’t want to lose her self-respect too.

But by the time he stopped in the middle of the shadowy bedroom, and she gazed up into those haunting ice-blue eyes, her arguments had wound down to nought. Rather than warnings she heard only a sweet chorus, urging her to go forward. It was as if history were already written. The deed was already done. Right or wrong, she would go through with this. The reason was simple.

There’d never be another Gabriel. One more time with him would be more than a lifetime with anyone else.

As if he read her thoughts, the lines either side of his eyes crinkled with a soft smile. He crossed the room and set her carefully down beside the bed. Then he flicked down the quilt and stood back, running an eye over her dress, as if approving of the design but also analysing the most effective way to remove it.

Stepping close again, he gripped the hem and the dress slid like butter up over her hips, her waist, her head, finally her arms. While she trembled inside from crown to toe, his hot gaze consumed her. She felt every stroke of his appraisal as it sizzled over her strapless bra, lower, to her abdomen then across her red silk briefs.

His gaze jumped and held hers again while he peeled the shirt off his back and dropped it to the timber floor. With the broad expanse of his chest rising and falling, he pulled her up against his hard heat and, after murmuring that he’d wanted her all day, claimed her mouth with his again.

She’d expected his kiss to ignite her as it had last night, to take over her senses and leave her deliciously weak and desperately wanting. She’d expected the same fireworks to leap up, lighting her blood until flames devoured any lingering whim to resist.

She was surprised.

When they’d lain together last night she’d never felt more alive, more grateful for each breath, and for the man who’d made another day possible. Tonight his kiss went beyond that. This heady emotion wasn’t about outside influence or circumstance. It was about them … how well they meshed … how amazingly well they fitted. As his head angled more, and he kissed her thoroughly, her soul floated away and joined his, twining and spiralling off into blessed infinity.

Nina coiled her arms around his neck, unable to imagine anyone feeling as much as she felt at that moment. The desire was both an all-consuming necessity and a magnificent release that remade her, as light as the moonbeams slanting in through the open plantation blinds. No one could ever have felt this deeply before this.

Before them.

His mouth gradually broke from hers to trail down the side of her throat. She arched her neck, allowing him better access, and sighed when he snapped open her bra. As the bra dropped between them, his mouth slid along her collarbone and, one palm supporting her weight, he lowered her back upon the sheets.

He unzipped his trousers and not soon enough stood before her naked. She shouldn’t stare. She’d seen him sans clothes before. The straight stance, lean hips, hard bronzed frame that tapered into a perfect V. This sight proved yet again that he was no ordinary man. He was so much more than that.

He rested one knee on the bed and, with his hands either side of her shoulders, asked, “You okay? Your ankle?”

Relishing the abandon, she dragged him down. “I’m not thinking about my foot.”

While she battled to keep her heart behind her ribs, his palm traced down over her waist, her leg, all the way to her bandage and then up again. Above the knee, however, his direction curled in to feather up her inner thigh. When his fingertips skimmed her panties’ damp crotch a flash of darkest desire plunged through her, gripping her insides and coating them with warm liquid want.

Biting her lip, she turned her head towards the pillow. “You want to torture me?”

He chuckled. “Not the word I’d have used.”

She found his hand and held his palm against the pulse that was both freeing her spirit as well as compressing every thought and feeling gloriously tight. His lips nuzzling hers, he tugged her panties’ crotch aside. At the same time as cool air brushed between her thighs, his mouth left hers. A moment later his warm breath was a whisper away from her most intimate, private place.

Gripping the sheet at her sides, she fought the urge to buck her hips, to let him know how dearly she wanted this. Wanted him. When he urged her folds apart, and his tongue dipped to swirl over the sensitive nub, she bit her lip harder to quell the cry.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Then he kissed her again, with his lips, with his tongue, twirling and tasting until he’d drawn out every ounce of vulnerability she’d ever hidden from the world. She felt the roughness of his beard and the pleasure in his smile as he groaned and hummed against her. The vibration filtered through her blood, igniting a glittering roadmap of longing that swept along her veins. And then …

One second she was vaguely aware of her surroundings, of her individual heartbeat and the rhythmic wash of the waves outside. The next the spiral of sensation had smashed through the ceiling. The tingling burn heightened, deepened, widened, until nothing existed but the heat-lightning rushing over her breasts, scorching her nipples and shooting blazing stars through her mind to her core.

From the moment Nina surrendered, Gabriel knew tonight wouldn’t be their last. Holding her now, as she cried out his name, he was struck by another revelation. Whatever lay behind their fiery connection, it was real—and she knew it too. She wanted this to continue as much as he did—if not more.

As her contractions eased, and she breathed out a full-bodied sigh, he pulled himself up over her amazing curves. Her eyes were closed and an almost innocent smile graced her swollen lips. He drank in the sight, drawing out the anticipation, and with every passing second his want for her grew.

Dreamy, she blinked open her eyes. She focused, then her smile fanned and her arms went out to him.

Pressing tender kisses to her brow, he entered her, with finite, together-again care. When he was certain she was ready, when he felt her urgency had built again to breaking point, he gripped the top of the bedhead with one hand and cupped her nape with the other. He looked into her eyes and, in one, long slow act, drove in all the way.

Her head went back and she gasped, at the same time as he summoned every ounce of will-power to stop the intense push from getting the best of him. He couldn’t remember having experienced this kind of smouldering force before. It was like trying to catch and hold a fleet of flaming arrows in one hand.

He’d reined himself in and was moving again when the worst possible thing happened. Nuzzling up against his ear, she whispered his name.

A wave swept over his body at the same time as she trailed her fingertips up and down his sides. Goosebumps flashed over his skin and that fleet of arrows shot at his groin. He trembled, shuddered, tucked in his chin. But then she cupped his jaw and craned up to steal a tender yet urgent kiss. With her tongue edging lovingly over his, his erection throbbed and hardened to become near unmanageable.

Struggling to smile, he murmured against her mouth, “Did someone mention torture?”

Her laugh was more of a purr. “I can put you out of your misery.”

Her velvet walls contracted around him, squeezing and holding while her teeth tugged his bottom lip. His hand dropped from the bedhead to iron up over her ribcage and knead her breast. As their movements blended and synchronised, he understood he’d never enjoyed an experience quite like this. The fire was so formidable that his blood had turned to lava.

It had nothing to do with their bond over her brother. Nothing to do with saving her life. It was physical, sure, but it was beyond that too. Every ion seemed to fuse in all the right places. She fitted him, he fitted her—everywhere.

Every way.

He took her mouth and kissed her hard as his skin steamed and pressure grew. A moment later she quietened beneath him, shrinking into herself and quivering while her breathing ceased altogether. With every tendon and muscle clenched, he withdrew fully, then filled her once more, hitting a place and a moment so high neither one would reach the ground again without jumping off.

Her fingers dug into his biceps as her frame arched high. The sky opened up—fierce, bright—and Gabriel dived into the light.

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