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His eyes narrowed. Flushing, she looked away—away from the colour that rode his striking cheekbones like a slash of war paint, away from the slightly swollen line of the lips that had taught her in a few short moments what ecstasy could be like, away from the crystalline eyes scanning her face as though she were some new specimen.
From outside came the sound of the tikau’s song, each clear cascade of notes echoing in the room.
Luke said something in the local language beneath his breath, and when she stared at him he said in his usual controlled voice, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I had no intention of touching you. I won’t do it again unless it’s in public.’
‘In public?’
‘To keep up the charade we’ll have to exchange an occasional significant glance. Possibly even a light—but restrained—caress now and then,’ he said, and when she stared at him in dismay, he gave a humourless smile and went on, ‘Don’t worry, I can control my baser urges when others are around. I’ve never considered overt displays of lust to be a spectator sport.’
His contemptuous dismissal of the passion she’d felt hurt ferociously, but she managed to produce a nod.
He said, ‘Are you all right for the picnic tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’ Or as right as she ever would be.
They were taking the mining people to an island that was the Chapman private holiday home. It was to be an informal occasion, with nothing more in mind than the establishing of contacts, some fishing for those who wanted to, and a swim in the lagoon, followed by lunch.
For Fleur it would be a sail into the unknown.
‘Hey, this is fabulous!’ The blonde woman who’d embraced Luke so heartily the night before stretched languorously on the white lounger and smiled up into a sky that was the bright, brazen blue of a sapphire. Turning her head to look directly at Fleur, she let an envious smile touch her lips and purred, ‘Lucky you.’
Fleur said, ‘It’s glorious, isn’t it?’
‘So is its owner,’ the woman, whose name was Prudence, said coolly. ‘You know, I wouldn’t have thought you were Luke’s type.’
‘The world’s full of surprises.’ Fleur managed a casual shrug and a light, coolly dismissive tone. Her companion’s forth-rightness startled her, but she knew instinctively that showing astonishment would be seen as a sign of weakness.
‘Where did you meet him?’
‘At a party,’ Fleur said vaguely.
Prudence sat up and began applying sunscreen in slow, voluptuous strokes. ‘I don’t blame you for being circumspect,’ she said, a note of malice tingeing her voice. ‘He hates publicity. And maybe you are his type—he does like redheads. Is your hair natural?’
The taunt hit home. ‘Every last little wave,’ Fleur said, before she had time to think. ‘Why? Did you think it was a wig?’
‘The colour,’ Prudence said shortly. ‘You remind me very much of one of his previous lovers—Jenny…no, Janna someone. She was pretty, a model who dabbled in acting. Lots of charm but not a brain in her pretty head. He soon got tired of her.’
The implication couldn’t have been more plain. Fleur closed her eyes, opening them a second later when the woman spoke again, this time in a totally different voice. ‘Hello, Luke. What a fabulous place.’
Fabulous, Fleur thought snidely, went out in the seventies, surely? Didn’t she know any other word? She watched Luke smile, and realised that Prudence had managed to irritate him. Now, how did she know that?
Just something about the quirk of his lips when he said, ‘I’m glad you like it.’ He looked across at Fleur, and his expression altered subtly. ‘How long is it since you put on sunscreen?’
‘About half an hour,’ she said. ‘It’s supposed to last two hours.’
‘The tropical sun is tough on skin as delicate as yours.’ He came over to sit beside her on the lounger. ‘Turn your back, and I’ll make sure it’s covered properly.’
‘Would you like me to go?’ the other woman enquired archly.
Luke raised his brows. ‘Why?’ he asked in a pleasant tone, holding his hand out to Fleur for the bottle of sunscreen.
Fleur gave it to him, relieved that he was on her side. He would, she thought, make a bad enemy. He could do more with a slight lift of his brows and a barely perceptible intonation in his deep voice than other men produced with open threats.
Prudence shrugged. ‘Oh, I just thought you might need some privacy.’
Luke let the silence last a heartbeat too long before saying, ‘No.’
And that was the end of that. Without trying to answer, the other woman waved languidly at someone down the beach before donning her sunglasses and lying back on her lounger. Suddenly cold, in spite of the heat of the sun, Fleur shivered while Luke applied sunscreen to Fleur’s back, his hands sweeping the lukewarm liquid across her skin.
She could feel his cold anger, and wondered why Prudence had provoked it. To make an impression? Possibly. If so, it had backfired—unless Luke would rather be doing this to the other woman and was angry that he had to keep up the pretence with Fleur?
Who cares? she thought bluntly. He’d set this situation up. If he wanted to bed the luscious executive, with her outdated slang and overt willingness, he had only himself to blame that he couldn’t.
Although he was anointing her with skill and experience, there was nothing sensual about the slow strokes of his hand. Not for him, anyway. He was doing a job and getting it done as quickly as he could, while through her little rivulets of fire ran from nerve to nerve, sweeping everything before them in honeyed enchantment. Her breath quickened, and she fixed her unseeing eyes on the swimmers in the lagoon.
Until a movement caught her eyes and she said sharply, ‘Luke!’
His hand stopped immediately as he followed her line of sight. ‘What—?’ He bit back an imprecation and got to his feet in one lithe movement.
She catapulted off the lounger, and ran behind him down the white sand and into the water. Although he forged ahead, she swam on, keeping him in sight until he reached deeper water, where he dived.
Thank God the lagoon was as clear as crystal; by the time she got there he’d already hauled the swimmer—a woman—to the surface, ruthlessly controlling her struggles and holding her head well clear while she coughed and retched.
‘I can do this,’ Fleur said, panting. ‘We need a boat out here.’
Luke demanded, ‘Can you keep her upright?’
‘Yes.’
‘Show me.’
Fleur slid her arm around the swimmer in the classic life-saver’s hold. The woman had stopped struggling and, although she was blue around the lips, her breathing was already stabilising.
Luke said briefly, ‘Good girl.’ He turned his head to the shore. ‘Where the hell is the boat?’
The sound of the engines warned them of its imminent arrival. It came roaring up, stopping rather suddenly when Luke held up his hand in a command that couldn’t be ignored.
‘All right?’ he asked Fleur.
She nodded. ‘The West Coast Beaches junior lifesavers would be proud of me,’ she said lightly, because the woman in her arms was choking back tears.
Luke smiled. ‘I’m proud of you,’ he said, and swam to the idling dinghy, hauling himself over the side with a whoosh that nearly capsized it.
He brought it carefully up to the two of them in the water, where he and one of the crew from the yacht helped the coughing woman into it. Then Luke bent over and hauled Fleur up, holding her for a spectacular second against his sleek, lean body.
‘Are you all right?’ he demanded, studying her face with half-closed, searching eyes. ‘No after-effects? No exhaustion?’
Surprised, she said, ‘No. No, I feel fine. Just a bit puffed, but I haven’t been swimming recently.’
And because her body was reacting very oddly to being held in a close embrace, she said, ‘Truly, I’m fine. I’ve fully recovered from my faint.’
‘Collapse. Good, let’s get ashore,’ he said, releasing her after a swift, hard hug.
Back on the beach, the other guests had gathered in a knot just above the wave line.
‘We’ll use one of the loungers as a stretcher to carry her up to the house,’ Luke said. He nodded at Fleur. ‘We’ll need you.’
The house was small and sparsely furnished, clearly used only for holidays. The four men who’d carried the still weeping woman up set the lounger down carefully in the shade of the terrace and stood around a bit awkwardly.
Addressing one of them, Fleur asked, ‘Can you find and bring up her clothes, please?’ She looked at the rest of the men and said firmly, ‘Thank you so much. I’ll come down and let you know when she’s ready to have visitors.’
They left, and the woman said between sobs, ‘I don’t know why I’m crying!’
‘Because you’re in shock,’ Fleur said robustly. ‘I’ve been there—I know what it’s like. What you need is a warm shower—’
‘Some brandy first,’ Luke said, appearing from the house with a small glass. He gave Fleur a swift, challenging grin that curled her toes, then held out the glass to the woman. ‘Here, Ms Baxter, drink it down even if you hate it.’
‘I do hate it,’ she said, ‘but I certainly need something!’ She drained it, shuddered, and then lay back on the lounger. ‘Stupid,’ she said wearily, and shivered again. ‘I really thought I was going to drown—I swam out to look at the coral and I got cramps in both legs. I’ve never had it before.’
‘How do you feel now?’ Fleur asked.
‘Better. I only went under twice—Luke dragged me up from the second time. I might have made it up again, but I don’t think so. I didn’t think anyone had seen me, and I knew the waves on the reef made it impossible for anyone to hear me.’
‘Fleur saw you,’ Luke said. ‘I’ve just checked with the hospital on the mainland, and they agree that you should be seen as soon as possible, so a chopper is on its way.’ He ignored her instant objection. ‘Sorry, but that’s island policy after an incident like this. There’s a risk of serious complication later unless proper medical care is given.’ He smiled at her woebegone face. ‘I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, but a night in hospital will reassure all of us that you’re fine.’
His smile seemed to work its usual magic. ‘I feel so stupid,’ the patient said weakly, lying back and closing her eyes.
‘Cramps can happen to anyone,’ Fleur said. She smiled down at the woman. ‘Would you like me to come with you?’
‘I—no,’ the woman said, her voice fading. ‘You’re needed here.’
Luke said easily, ‘I’ll manage without her.’
‘I’ll just get our bags,’ Fleur said. ‘I refuse to go for my first helicopter flight in a bikini.’
His eyes kindled, but he turned and called to one of the staff, his voice sharper than normal.
When the chopper arrived, he said, ‘Thank you for this. I’ve arranged with my PA to attend to all the paperwork, but Sue Baxter is still shocked, and I think she’d like to have you with her at least until she’s seen a doctor.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she said briskly. ‘You can’t go, and no one else has offered.’ Besides, she knew what it was like to wake up in a strange place and wonder where she was and what had happened.
‘She’s a senior executive from one of the big Australian companies. Unfortunately she’s here on her own,’ he told her. ‘Her company’s been notified.’
To her astonishment he bent and kissed her, his arms tightening around her and his mouth taking hers in a dominant stamp of possession.
Flushed and breathless, Fleur hustled into the chopper, and as it rose saw the reason for his final embrace—a woman was watching the chopper pad. Prudence of the hungry eyes and determined mouth. Fleur wondered bleakly if she’d try more of her wiles on Luke.
Chapter Six
SOME hours later Fleur’s attention was attracted by a nurse who appeared in the doorway of the private room waving a mobile phone.
Startled, Fleur raised her brows and pointed to her chest. The nurse nodded vigorously. It had to be Luke. Her mouth suddenly dry, Fleur got up from her seat beside the sleeping woman’s bed and went across to the door.
‘Mr Luke Chapman,’ the nurse mouthed, and sighed as she held out the phone.
Handling it rather as if it were a snake, Fleur said into the mouthpiece, ‘Hello?’
‘Ah, Fleur.’ His voice was impersonal, he could have been talking to his PA, but her heart performed an odd revolution before pumping at a much faster pace. ‘How is Ms Baxter?’
‘She’s sleeping now. The tests didn’t show any damage, and there’s no sign of complications, but the doctors want her to stay in overnight.’ Her voice sounded weird, almost croaky, and her pulse picked up even more speed.
‘I suspected they would. The chopper’s on stand-by if you want to come back.’
So this was how the very rich lived—every available aid waiting for them. She glanced at her watch. ‘You’re leaving for home in an hour or so, aren’t you?’ she asked. ‘It doesn’t seem worth it.’
‘I’ll collect you myself, then. Don’t leave the hospital until I come.’
He spoke perfectly normally, yet a barely discernible undertone in his voice lifted the hair on her skin. ‘Why?’
After a pause so slight she wondered if she’d imagined it, he told her, ‘Because the last time you were let out on your own you collapsed. Humour me, all right?’
Fleur swallowed. ‘OK,’ she said tautly. ‘I’ll stay put.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘See you soon.’
Fleur switched off the phone and went to the door, noticing for the first time the tall islander standing on the other side of the corridor. He smiled respectfully, and she realised with a jolt that he was security of some sort. She smiled back and set off to the nurses’ station with the telephone.
‘All right?’ the nurse asked, looking up from sheets of paper.
She nodded. ‘Mr Chapman wanted to know how Ms Baxter is.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ the nurse said professionally, eyeing Fleur with interest. ‘He’s a good man, Luke Chapman—sexy, too! You look a bit stiff when you move. Did you drag her out?’
‘Helped,’ she admitted.
The nurse said, ‘You look as though you need a shower. Why don’t you use the bathroom down the corridor—it’s well past the patients’ showering time.’
Accustomed to the protectiveness with which her mother’s hospital had guarded its facilities, Fleur said uncertainly, ‘Will that be all right?’
‘Of course!’ The nurse grinned. ‘The Chapman family set up this hospital and they provide a lot of money for its running. In fact, there’s some big charity do soon that’s fundraising for a cancer ward here. Nobody’s going to object if you use a bit of our water and electricity.’ She eyed Fleur. ‘Are you keeping up your water intake?’
‘How did—?’ Fleur stopped, because of course everyone on the island would know by now that she’d fainted dramatically in front of Luke’s car. And if they didn’t know that, they certainly knew she’d been living in his house.
The nurse laughed. ‘Oh, like any small community we keep tabs on people, but I’ll make sure some lime juice goes to Ms Baxter’s room for you. Keep drinking it—we don’t want Mr Luke mad at us for not looking after you.’
The power of the Chapman name, Fleur thought as she collected her bag on the way to the bathroom. Not just here on their home territory, either. If she’d learned anything during her stay here, it was that Luke was sought after by people all around the world.
The shower was bliss, and the iced lime juice waiting in the ward was delicious, too. Not quite so good was the fact that after checking Sue Baxter out, the doctor insisted on doing the same for Fleur, finally saying, ‘What it is to be young and healthy. You’re in good shape, but have a rest every afternoon, and—’
