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She had reached a vast, open area with the middle missing, as if a huge circular section had been dug out of it. On the other side of the bottomless circle ran gushing water, pouring over the edge like a sheet. A ledge jutted out on her side. She stepped onto it and peered over. She’d found the bottom. The drop was at least forty feet, the waterfall pouring into a large, round pool.
Almost hugging herself with joy, she sat with her legs dangling over the ledge and took a long drink of water. She wished she’d taken Valeria up on her offer of a packed lunch. She could happily spend the next week in this little spot of paradise.
She’d found a spot very similar to this a few years before, on a holiday in Thailand. She and the friends she’d travelled with had taken it in turns to jump into the pool, exulting at the weightlessness of the fall. Emily hadn’t had a care in the world. Not then.
Whipping her flip-flops and T-shirt off, leaving just her bikini top and shorts, she slathered herself in sun-cream and rested back, happy simply to soak it all in. Her solitude didn’t last nearly long enough.
The shuffling of movement made her start. Turning her head, all her contentment died to see Pascha standing behind her.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked rudely. He should be snug in his jet, flying away across the ocean.
Dressed in a pair of knee-length, dark-beige canvas shorts and an unbuttoned black polo shirt, he really was incredibly handsome. Even with his hair perfectly in place, and his clothes pressed to within an inch of their lives, he looked far more human than in his business attire. Her eyes drifted down to his calves, something hot flushing through her at their muscularity and the fine, dark hairs covering them. ‘I thought you’d gone to Paris.’
‘Never mind that, come away from the edge.’ Speaking of edges, there was a definite one in his voice.
‘I’m perfectly happy where I am, thank you.’ Well, she had been.
‘Where you’re sitting could break away. It isn’t safe.’
‘Worried I might fall? At least it will save you having to worry about keeping me here.’
‘Don’t be infantile.’ His face contorted into something resembling anger. ‘While you’re on this island your safety is my responsibility.’
‘Actually,’ she said, adopting an airy tone, ‘I think you’ll find I’m a fully grown woman and perfectly capable of taking responsibility for my own safety.’
‘Not on my watch.’
‘Have you jumped into the pool yet?’ she asked, although she already suspected what the answer would be.
‘That’s a ridiculous question.’
‘It feels like flying.’ She couldn’t help the wistfulness that came into her voice. ‘It feels like nothing else on this earth.’
‘I couldn’t care what it feels like. It’s dangerous. Now, come off that ledge—you won’t be of any use to your father if you hurtle to your death.’
Damn him.
For a few brief moments she’d forgotten what her life had become, had slipped back into a life that had been free of worry and responsibility.
But he was right. What would become of her father if anything were to happen to her? What would become of James? James was more than capable of caring for their dad with her instruction, but when it came to working the practicalities out for himself he was useless.
Only a year ago she would have held her ground and refused anything other than taking a running jump off the ledge and plunging into the deep pool below.
As she now knew, through painful experience, a lot could happen in a year. A lot had happened. Her whole world had been ripped apart.
Pascha watched as a host of emotions flittered over Emily’s pretty face. It had been a low blow using her father to make her see sense, but until she came away from that ledge he knew his racing pulse wouldn’t rest. Perspiration ran down his back that had nothing to do with the soaring temperature.
But, when she shuffled back and got to her feet, the heat he felt under the collar of his polo shirt surged. Suddenly, now she was safe, the bikini top and shorts Emily wore came firmly onto his radar.
Her ebony hair was piled on top of her head, ringlets spiralling, but she’d left her face free of make-up, her beauty shining through in a wholly disturbing way. And that body... Skin that looked like silk...
As quickly as the snap of his fingers, his pulse raced anew, his blood thickening.
There was nothing immodest about Emily’s khaki bikini; compared to the scraps of candyfloss most women of his acquaintance liked to wear, it was demure. The black shorts she wore with them were figure-hugging but modest. She wasn’t wearing anything he hadn’t seen hundreds of women wear on beaches around the world, yet she was the only one he reacted to with such force.
