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Had she no shame? No self-control?
Then his eyes opened.
Suddenly Lizzie was aware of how close she was, her face inches from his, her hand poised above his chest. She dropped it back on to the sheet.
Cormac watched her, his eyes the colour of moss, clouded with sleep. Then the sleep cleared and was replaced with awareness.
Attraction.
They stared at each other, neither speaking, and Lizzie was conscious of how her body responded to just that look, her blood heating as if he’d stroked her with his hands instead of with his eyes.
Her hair fell forward, brushing against his bare chest, and Lizzie heard his breath hitch.
Still, neither of them spoke, neither of them moved.
She felt trapped by his gaze—trapped, tortured, tempted.
In a weekend of utter falseness, this felt amazingly real.
A bird called raucously outside and the shutter banged in the breeze.
The moment was broken. Lizzie saw it in the coolness that stole into his eyes, the knowing smile curving that mobile mouth.
‘Had a good look?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Lizzie said.
‘Change your mind?’
‘No.’ She gave a knowing smile of her own. ‘You snore.’
He chuckled disbelievingly and shook his head. ‘No one’s told me that before.’
‘I didn’t think your women stayed the night,’ Lizzie threw back, and he stilled.
‘No, they don’t.’ He paused thoughtfully, although something—not sleep—clouded his eyes once more. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever shared a bed with another person for the whole night before.’
‘Me, neither,’ Lizzie admitted, and he chuckled.
‘That I believe, my little virgin.’
She scooted off the bed and busied herself pulling clothes from the cupboard. ‘What are we doing today?’
‘Jan and Hilda are taking us over to the building site. We’ll talk shop while you ladies gossip, and then we’ll all head to the beach for an afternoon of sun, sand and surf. Tomorrow Jan wants to see our formal presentations.’
‘I really am just here as arm candy,’ Lizzie said with a shake of her head. ‘Whatever anyone says about family values.’
‘Delicious arm candy, at that,’ Cormac said. Somehow he’d sneaked up behind her while she’d been selecting her clothes and now he murmured in her ear, ‘If only I could have a taste.’
‘Don’t,’ she snapped, and he laughed.
‘You’re so easy to rile, Chandler. It almost takes the fun away.’
She turned around, one eyebrow raised. ‘Almost?’
He grinned, suddenly looking boyish and uncomplicated. If only. ‘Almost, but not quite.’
Lizzie grabbed the rest of her clothes and headed into the bathroom. She didn’t like Cormac when he was charming. Didn’t trust him. At his most enticing, he was also the most dangerous.
No, Lizzie realised, she did like him at his most charming—or even just a bit charming—and that was the problem. It would be so easy to succumb to temptation. To desire.
She climbed into the shower, let the hot water stream over her and imagined what that would be like. Feel like.
What would Cormac be like as a lover? Would he be commanding, authoritative, taking control with skilled, knowing hands? Or would he be tender, gentle, awakening her responses with a supreme confidence that didn’t need him to be in control?
Lizzie shook her head, suppressed a shudder. She had no business wondering about Cormac, what he was like as a lover, who he really was. Not if she wanted to keep herself—body and soul—safe.
Yet she was curious. Curious about sex, curious about Cormac. Curious about Cormac as a lover…and as a man. What had made him the way he was? What would change him?
‘The trouble with you,’ she told her reflection in the mirror as she towelled herself dry, ‘is that you’ve had no one to care about since Dani left. You’re just lonely and you want someone to fix.’
The realisation sobered her. Saddened her, too. For the last ten years she’d given her life to her younger sister, had poured her emotions and her soul into Dani’s well-being. She knew it was what her parents would have wanted, and she’d been happy to do it.
But now Dani—carefree, laughing Dani—was gone, happily tucked away at university, and at twenty-eight Lizzie was left wondering what to do with the rest of her life.
Whatever happened, the rest of her life, her personal life, would have nothing to do with Cormac, she told herself sternly. So her mind and heart and treacherous body had all better remember that.
She dressed quickly in white capris and a pale pink blouse—sleeveless, cool and elegantly simple. Since they’d be outside for most of the day, she caught her hair up in a loose bun, wisps curling around her face.
Back in the bedroom, she saw that Cormac had changed into khaki trousers and a dark green shirt that matched his eyes, deepening them to the colour of the jungle.
‘Don’t forget your swimming costume,’ he said, and Lizzie mentally cringed at the thought of the jade bikini the boutique assistant had chosen for her—two tiny scraps of shiny material and a bit of string. Suddenly the thought of Cormac—never mind anyone else—seeing her in it made her feel horribly exposed and vulnerable.
Reluctantly, she fished the costume out of her suitcase and packed it in a canvas bag with some sun-cream and a hat.
Outside the villa, two Jeeps had been brought around the drive to take them all to the building site. Hilda and Jan were in the first one, and Lizzie saw Geoffrey and Lara snag the back seats of their hosts’ Jeep, no doubt in an attempt to ingratiate themselves with the Hassells.
Dan offered to drive the second Jeep, as he was familiar with driving on the right-hand side of the road, and Cormac graciously agreed.
Lizzie managed a smile as he slid into the backseat next to her, his arm going round her shoulders in an easy, thoughtless manner that she knew had to be cunningly calculated.
She wanted it to be real. The realisation hurt. She’d known this weekend would be dangerous. Cormac would be dangerous.
She hadn’t realised she would be dangerous. Her body, her heart. Her mind, her soul. Unbending, unfurling. Wanting. More.
Wanting what she’d never had.
‘Careful, Chandler,’ Cormac murmured in her ear, his breath feathering her cheek. ‘You’re not looking very happy with me right now.’
Wendy glanced back at them, smiling, and Lizzie forced herself to smile back and pat Cormac’s thigh in a perfunctory way.
Cormac trapped her hand with his own and kept it there, splayed on his thigh, too high on his leg for her comfort. She averted her head, unable to stomach the indecent intimacy.
Dan drove the Jeep out of the villa’s landscaped grounds, following Jan along a paved track that cut through the dense jungle. Lizzie could hear the chattering of monkeys and macaws even over the sound of the engine.
After a quarter of an hour, they broke through the dense foliage and came to a rocky outcrop high over the water. Lizzie took in an awed breath, for the sight of the Caribbean shimmering with sunlight to the horizon was still stunning to her.
Cormac heard the little indrawn breath and slanted her a knowing smile. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ he said softly, and for once Lizzie felt he wasn’t mocking her.
He even released her fingers and she dropped her hand into her own lap, feeling strangely, stupidly bereft.
They parked the Jeeps where the paved track ended in a pile of dirt and Jan led the party across the rocks to a flattened area that had already been set up with a table sheltered from the blazing sun by a tent.
Lizzie could feel Cormac’s tension, his energy and excitement as the men sat down to discuss blueprints, dreams and designs.
Hilda led the women down a path through the rocks to a strip of white sandy beach below, and Lizzie saw that a separate vehicle had brought all the amenities for a relaxed day at the beach.
Spread out among folding chairs and towels, sheltered by beach umbrellas, Lizzie tried to relax and enjoy the sun and sand. She felt as if she were drawn as tight as a bow string, every sense and nerve on alert.
‘They won’t be long,’ Hilda said with a smile. ‘Jan has already seen all the blueprints, you know. This weekend was simply a way of meeting the men behind the designs. That’s what is important to us.’
And who was the man behind the design? Lizzie wondered. What front would he present to Jan? She’d no doubt he had something worked out, a façade to maintain. Had he ever shown who he really was to anyone? Had he ever been that vulnerable?
The idea was laughable.
Lizzie glanced around. Lara had already stretched out on a towel, glistening with suntan oil, in a bikini that made Lizzie’s own skimpy one look modest in comparison.
In contrast, Wendy was sitting on a folding chair, one hand on her bump, looking hot and uncomfortable.
Lizzie smiled at her. ‘Can I fetch you a drink?’
Wendy smiled gratefully. ‘Water would be great.’
Lizzie found a bottle of water in one of the coolers and handed it to Wendy. ‘A bit hot, isn’t it,’ she said sympathetically, and Wendy nodded.
‘Yes. Dan didn’t want me to come, as I’m only two months from my due date, but I insisted. This commission is so important to him. He’s been struggling in a large firm, and this could really be his chance to break out.’ She bit her lip. ‘Of course, I’m sure it’s important to Cormac, too…and to Geoffrey…’
‘I’m sure every one of our husbands could design an amazing resort,’ Lizzie said a bit lamely, for she was conscious of another fresh pang of guilt.
If Cormac hadn’t insisted on his own way—and finding his own wife—men like Dan White, good, steady, honest men, would have a better chance at gaining such a prestigious commission.
If she hadn’t agreed…
She was as much to blame as Cormac. No matter what he’d threatened her with, she could have said something. Done something.
She’d simply wanted an adventure too much.
And now she’d had enough, even as she wanted more. There was a part of her that longed to run back to safety, to the shelter of her former life. And another part—a treacherous, tempting part—wanted this. A life. Cormac.
She smiled again at Wendy and returned to her seat, trying to involve herself in Hilda’s cheerful conversation about the resort and its plans.
The words washed over her, soothing sounds, no more than white noise. Her mind buzzed with questions. Questions about herself, about what she wanted.
Cormac.
What was she thinking? What did she want?
Change your mind?
No.
Finally, the men left the rocky outcrop. Lizzie watched Cormac walk over to her, smiling easily although his eyes looked blank, preoccupied.
‘How was it?’ she asked in a murmur. She glanced at Geoffrey, who was looking sulky, and Dan, who greeted Wendy with more concern than he’d ever shown about winning the commission.
‘Fine.’ Cormac raked a hand through his hair. ‘Jan likes my ideas, but Stears keeps making remarks and I can tell they’re starting to hit home.’
‘He knows, doesn’t he?’ Lizzie said, fear plunging icily in her middle.
‘Of course he knows. He can’t prove anything, though.’ His eyes rested on Lizzie for a moment and she felt their warmth, a radiant heat that matched the sun.
They both burned.
‘We’ll just have to be more convincing,’ he said lazily. He pulled her towards him and she was too surprised to resist as he gave her a quick kiss. She knew it was calculated, a staged gesture, but it didn’t feel like it.
For one blazing moment she was conscious only of his lips on hers, hard and warm. He pulled away and there was no mocking laughter in his eyes, no sardonic knowledge. ‘Why don’t you get your swimming costume on?’ he suggested, and Lizzie opened her mouth to protest.
‘We’ll go snorkelling,’ Cormac continued. ‘The fish are amazing here.’
A treacherous thrill shot through her. She wanted to spend time with Cormac, she realised. She wanted to have fun. ‘I’m not a strong swimmer,’ she began, and he smiled, laced her fingers with his and drew her in for another kiss.
‘I’ll keep you safe.’
‘Cormac…’ Lizzie shook her head. She knew this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. He was just acting. Yet, she realised faintly, everyone was chatting or changing. No one was watching them. There was no audience.
There was just them.
Why was he doing it, then?
‘All right,’ she said, and gave him a quick, uncertain smile before she fetched her swimming costume and ducked into one of the tents set up for the purpose of changing.
She emerged a few minutes later, resisting the urge to cover herself as Cormac looked across at her, his eyes sweeping over, then resting on her body, heat and awareness flaring in their depths.
She joined the others, wrapping a towel around her waist as a sarong. She needed some coverage, some armour.
It did little good, however, for she was as aware of Cormac as he was of her. He’d taken off his shirt and wore a pair of navy blue swimming shorts, and even though she’d seen as much of his body before, she couldn’t quite keep her eyes off him, taking in the hard contours of his chest, the tanned forearms resting on tapered hips, the long, powerful legs.
Every inch of him brown, beautiful, perfect.
