Authors: Sara Craven
The driver was lanky and cheerful, with a permanent grin. He had one of those miniature cassette players tucked into his shirt pocket and earphones on, and he sang along to a variety of tunes, making up in rhythm what he lacked in pitch.
Kate would have enjoyed the performance thoroughly if it hadn't been for the fact that Matt had put his arm round her as soon as they'd got into the car. It was draped across her shoulders quite casually, but his thumb was stroking along her collar bone and the hollow at the base of her throat, and his fingers weren't an inch from the swell of her breast, and she was finding it difficult to breathe suddenly, even though he'd murmured, 'Just local colour,' as his mouth grazed her ear. The instinct to strike out, to push him away had been almost overwhelming. She sat dry-mouthed and rigid in the curve of his arm, enduring this whisper of a caress, oblivious of the scenery or anything else except the sensuous probing of his fingers under the neckline of her shirt.
Last night they had slept together in an enormous bed, but he had been nowhere near as close to her as he was now, and his nearness, the scent of his skin, was acting on her like a drug, making her feel lightheaded, strange, totally unlike herself. It would be easy, so fatally easy to turn her head and put her mouth against the long column of his throat, discover whether his pulses were thudding as erratically as her own.
She was shaken at the strength of the impulse, and a little frightened too. She had never felt like this before. Certainly with Clive there had never been this terrifying urge to touch him, to learn the shape of his body with her hands, to let her mouth, her tongue discover the taste of him.
Her hands closed round each other in her lap, gripping until the knuckles turned white, and she sensed Matt's swift downward glance, and heard the dryness in his tone as he said, 'Relax. We've arrived.'
The Paradis Hotel wasn't over-large. There was a reception block, long and low and gleaming white which also contained the dining room, a hairdressing salon and some boutiques, and two small wings of bedrooms. The rest of the accommodation was in bungalows scattered through the grounds which led through a fringing of shrubs and palm trees directly on to the beach of silver sand.
The bungalows were white too, with green shutters opening on to terraces with padded chairs and loungers. The interior gave an impression of space and coolness in spite of the heat. There was a living area, furnished with a settee and chairs in the ubiquitous bamboo, and from this doors led into a compact bathroom tiled in a colour like the delicate inside of a shell, and the bedroom.
'Twin beds,' Matt pointed out sardonically, when they were alone. 'Another blow struck for chastity!'
Kate unlocked her case and began taking out her things and hanging them away in the fitted wardrobe.
After the way her thoughts had been running in the taxi, that was almost funny, she reflected wryly, but fortunately there was no way he could know that.
He was lounging on one of the beds, watching her. He said with a slanting smile, 'You don't think you'll be bored?'
She shook out a dress and slid it on to a hanger. 'I'll try and keep myself amused,' she countered lightly. 'Without, of course, interfering in your work.'
'I don't imagine you'll do that.' Matt lifted a shoulder in a negligent shrug. 'But I am a little concerned about your co-operation—or lack of it.'
'If you mean that little interlude in the taxi,' Kate said tautly, 'what did you expect—a full-blown necking session?'
'Hardly,' he said. 'But I'd prefer it if you didn't jump a mile every time I touch you. That's always given you away, as a matter of fact. Even if I'd been the kind of arrogant, randy idiot you had me marked as, I'd still have been able to recognise that you were trembling from panic rather than passion.'
'You're more used to the latter, of course.' Kate began to put the bikinis she'd brought into one of the drawers.
'If you say so.' He sounded amused. 'But you need to loosen up, otherwise there isn't a soul in the world who'll believe we're lovers once they see us together.'
She looked down at the scraps of brightly coloured fabric in her hands. 'And is it really so important that they should do so?' She let her scepticism show.
'I've told you it is.'
'Yes, you've told me,' Kate said. 'But you still haven't told me why it's so necessary—what you're doing here.'
'No,' he said. And that was all.
She turned and looked at him 'You're not prepared to take me into your confidence?'
'Not yet.'
'But you'd have told Alison all about it, no doubt.' She wished she hadn't said that as soon as the words were uttered, because it sounded more like a jealous whinge than a statement of fact.
'Alison again,' he said softly. 'You really are obsessed with her, aren't you, darling? Almost as obsessed as she is with you.'
'What do you mean?'
Matt shrugged again. 'Think about it,' he advised. 'It will give you something to do in the long night watches—far healthier and more constructive than wondering if and when I'm going to leap on you.'
Colour burned in her face. She said, 'While we're on the subject, there is a settee in the other room.'
His brows rose mockingly. 'I'd noticed. Which of us are you suggesting should use it?'
She hesitated. 'I suppose—to be fair—we should take turns. A week each, perhaps.'
Matt gave her a grim look. 'Sometimes,' he said softly, 'I get the impression you don't hear a word I say.'
'That's not true.' She held herself very straight. 'You accuse me of being uptight, but is it any wonder?' She swallowed. 'I—I guarantee I'll do my best to play my part during the day, but at night I want some privacy.'
'That's too bad,' he said flatly.
'You won't even discuss it?'
'There's nothing to discuss,' he said wearily. 'As far as outsiders are concerned, I've come here with you to have a holiday and an enjoyable love affair. I want to give the impression that I'm absorbed with you to the exclusion of everything else, that work couldn't be further from my mind. They're not likely to believe it, if it's realised that we sleep in separate rooms.'
'You talk as if we'll be watched,' she protested. 'As if anyone will know.'
'It's a small island,' said Matt. 'There'll be waiters bringing our breakfast, and maids coming in to clean. You think they don't gossip?'
'Probably,' said Kate. 'But what does it matter? As it happens, I think you're less concerned with your cover story than you are with a possible slur on your virility. You can't bear anyone to think you haven't scored.'
The blue eyes glittered, and she saw a muscle move beside the firm mouth. She'd made him angry, she judged, and suddenly she wished very much that she hadn't.
He said softly, 'You really have a rock-bottom opinion of me, don't you, darling? I may as well justify it.'
He swung himself off the bed and came towards her. Kate shrank, but there was no retreat possible. She was trapped between his advancing figure and the bulk of the wardrobe unit behind her.
She said pleadingly, 'Matt—I'm sorry…'
'No, you're not.' He shook his head. 'But you will be.' One arm went round her, the other under her knees, scooping her up as effortlessly as if she had been a child.
He walked with her to one of the beds and dropped her, sprawling, on to the coverlet. For a second she lay there, robbed of breath and her dignity, then she twisted violently, attempting to roll across the bed and gain the floor on the other side, away from him.
But he was too quick for her. His hands caught her by the shoulders, dragging her back, pinning her easily against the yielding softness of the mattress. Then with one supple movement he was kneeling astride her, imprisoning her struggling body between his knees.
Kate was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling quickly, as she glared up at him.
She said huskily, 'Well, we seem to have established that you're stronger than me, if there was ever any doubt. Do you intend to go on with this macho display, or are you satisfied?'
He said between his teeth, 'No darling, I'm far from satisfied. And this dress you're wearing is an invitation in itself.' The long fingers reached down and unfastened the button at the top of the bodice, then moved down, releasing the one at the hem of the skirt, rucked up to mid-thigh by her struggles.
Her little startled gasp broke off in her throat. She said, 'No—please—no…'
'But my pleasure is otherwise,' he told her softly, mockingly. Unhurriedly, he undid two more buttons, brushing the loosened edges of the dress away from her body. Her face burned, and she sank her teeth into her lower lip as another two buttons gave way. The fire was spreading to her body, because he was touching her now, his fingertips moving softly, sensuously over her skin, her shoulders, the curves of her breasts where they rose above the demure broderie anglaise trimming of her bra, along the smooth, exposed length of her thighs. Her pulses were behaving oddly, her heart fluttering against her rib cage like a trapped bird, and there was a queer trembling ache deep inside her.
She turned her head away, feeling the softness of her tumbled hair under her cheek, closing her eyes as she did so, because she didn't want to look at him, didn't want him to see her eyes.
He was seducing her with his touch, she thought, dry-mouthed, tantalising her with this slow, calculated removal of her clothes, teasing her into wanting more. And she wanted so much more, she realised as his hand moved to the last remaining fastening at her waist, and her dress fell away.
He said, 'No protests, Kate? No last-minute pleas for mercy?'
She said nothing. Even if she could have trusted her voice, she wouldn't have known what to say.
She felt him move. She wasn't a prisoner any more, because now he was lying beside her, his hands sliding the brief sleeves of the dress down from her shoulders, freeing her arms. He touched her face, cupping her chin, turning her gently but inexorably towards him, and then his mouth covered hers. A long quiver ran through her body as her lips parted under his, shyly at first, then completely as his intimate invasion of her mouth kindled her response.
Her fingers curled into the woven fabric of the coverlet and her body tensed as his fingers traced the cleft between her breasts down to the clip which fastened her bra. He was teasing again, playing with the clip, allowing his fingers to explore so far and no further inside the fragile cups. His other hand skimmed the flatness of her stomach, and curved about the rounding of her hip.
She felt a little moan rising in her throat. The blood was singing in her ears, her senses were clamouring for a fulfilment they had never known.
He said her name against her lips, then the clip on her bra was twisted free and she gasped as she felt his hands on her naked breasts. His touch was a sensuous agony. He moulded and caressed, brushing his palms softly across her nipples, and for the first time she put her arms round him, her hands moving over his shoulders and clasping finally at the back of his head, her body lifting towards his in an arc of sheer abandonment.
She wasn't sure when she first became aware of the voices and the laughter. At first, they seemed to be in another world, then Matt lifted his head sharply, saying, 'What the…?'
The bedroom door bounced open and two women appeared in the doorway, carrying towels and linen. Looking over Matt's shoulder, Kate saw their embarrassed faces, their mouths forming 'o's of sheer consternation, then they were backing away hurriedly, and the door was closing.
Matt said something succinct and obscene under his breath, then he was off the bed and across the room in pursuit.
Kate watched him go, feeling dazed and breathless and curiously bereft. She half sat up, propping herself on one elbow, and as she did so, she caught a glimpse of herself in the dressing table mirror, and gulped, realising for the first time what they must have seen— the tumbled hair, the flushed, aroused face, her body naked except for a pair of flimsy briefs.
She crimsoned, fumbling in the folds of the coverlet for her bra, and huddling into it, struggling clumsily with the suddenly recalcitrant clip. Her dress was on the floor, and she kicked it out of the way as she slid off the bed and ran to her case, dragging out her robe.
A stranger's face looked back at her from the mirror as she tried to drag a brush through her tangled hair, then the image blurred under a mist of humiliated tears. She swallowed, fighting them back, as she heard Matt returning.
He kicked the door shut behind him. He said grimly, 'It was a wrong number. They actually wanted the bungalow next door.'
'Really?' Kate gave her hair a vicious tug with the brush. 'How very convenient!'
He came to stand behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders, and she twisted away from him. 'Would you mind not touching me?' There was a note of hysteria in her voice, and he frowned, the blue eyes searching her face.
He said quite gently, 'Don't you think you're overreacting?'
'No,' she said, 'I don't. You wanted gossip, didn't you? You wanted your unknown victim to be assured that you were here to have an affair and not to pursue him—or her. Well, you've achieved that beyond your wildest dreams.'
He looked at her incredulously. 'You think: that I— arranged that? Kate, for God's sake, it was one of those things—an unfortunate coincidence.' He hesitated. Tor a variety of reasons, I'm more sorry than I can say that it happened.'
She picked up a pot of cream and began to remove what was left of her make-up. 'I expect you are,' she said expressionlessly.
'While you, of course, are totally unaffected.' His voice was cynical suddenly. 'We're back to the buttoned-up Miss Marston, the wedding guest's scourge, are we?' He shook his head. 'No way, Kate. That undesirable female has gone for ever, and bloody good riddance!'
Transformed by you, I suppose?' Kate screwed the lid back on the jar as if it was someone's neck. 'So what do you do for an encore, Mr Matt Personality of the Year Lincoln—kiss frogs and turn them into;— princesses?' She drew a deep breath. 'My God, I despise men like you!'