A short while later we’re back in the car, heading towards Agadir. But instead of continuing along the coast Myles takes a road heading inland, past shops and brightly painted houses, then more of the sand-covered hills, dotted with scrubby green bushes. Eventually he pulls off into a car park at the side of the road.
“Come on.” He gets out, and for a panicked moment I think he might come around and open my door. I quickly exit the vehicle. After our dinner last night, something has changed between us. Myles feels like a friend, like an equal, rather than my boss. An incredibly hot friend.
I pull my mind away from that thought, shouldering my bag and following him towards a dirt path leading away from the road. He waits for me to catch up with him. He’s carrying a small backpack, and hands me an Ocean’s Curl metal water bottle.
“Here.” He smiles at me. “It’s about a half-hour walk, but definitely worth it. You okay with that?”
I smile back. “Yes.”
* * *
A half hour or so later, after wandering along a river, past huts housing small restaurants, the hills rising like crumpled canvas around us, Myles stops. I gasp.
“Welcome to Paradise Valley,” he says. “What do you think?”
“Wow.” Opal green pools nestle like jewels among layered cliffs coloured rust and ochre. Waterfalls tumble like shimmering curtains, people swimming and perching on the rocks, or jumping from the cliffs above.
It’s utterly beautiful. Myles heads down to a spot closer to the water, a flat rock warmed by the sun. I follow him, still awestruck. It’s like being in a fairy tale.
“We’re swimming here?”
Myles, already putting on a rash guard, grins. “We are. Much less chance of losing you.”
I blush, not knowing where to look. I shimmy out of my dress, leaving it crumpled on the rock. There’s a towel in my bag and I spread it out, next to Myles’s.
He’s standing on the edge of the rock, looking at me, and there’s a strange sort of simmering tension around him. He holds out his hand.
“Shall we?” He sounds kind of breathless.
And, as I take his hand and we leap into shimmering green, I get it. I feel the same way.
Myles
I’d been wondering which of the swimsuits she’d choose. Hoped it might be one of the ones I picked out for her. I confess I chose the sexiest ones deliberately, wanting to see more of her. But when she lets her dress drop, and I see the swimsuit she’s wearing, I realise she made the correct choice after all. I’m mesmerised by the slice of creamy flesh visible between the low-slung bikini bottoms and the tank top, by her long slender legs, her tiny waist. The embroidered cherries on her hip. I almost groan when I see those. And the way the top cups her breasts, as though offering them to me. Fuck. I want to slide the straps down and put my mouth on her just to hear her gasp.
I swim away from her once she surfaces, simply because I’m still her boss, and she doesn’t need to see how hard I am for her. But she comes after me, her hair smooth to her head like some sort of naiad, rising from the water to tempt me. She’s doing a marvellous job.
She turns onto her back, floating, her arms out, and I see her smile at the sky. There’s an answering smile in my own heart to see her happy again. Whatever happened to her, just before she came here, had left shadows. Now, as she drifts in pale green water, they seem to have dissipated. I was right to bring her here, whatever happens. All that matters is that she’s happy.
Could she be happy with me? I wonder, as I swim up to her again, catching her hand to pull her, gently, through the water. Her hair streams behind her and she laughs, letting me take her where I like.
That feeling in my chest is swelling, something in me calling to her. I need to be careful, so very careful. But the reality of being here with her, touching her, makes dry things like paperwork and sensible procedures seem a million miles away. I want her, and I don’t know if I can hold back for much longer.
But I also don’t know whether she wants me.
ChapterTwenty-Four
Zara
This is one of the best days I’ve had in a long time. Ever, really. I float in blue-green water, cliffs rising around me, and the fact that I’m in Africa hits me again with all its magnificent strangeness. I wasn’t lying when I told Myles I’d fallen in love with Morocco; there’s something utterly magical here, a sense of wonder. I relax back into the water’s cool embrace, and feel the last vestiges of heartbreak leave me, Dean seeming like a distant memory. Especially when compared to Myles.
Everything feels so easy with him. I have to keep reminding myself he’s my boss, to draw the line in my mind. We’re friends, at most, and that’s all we can ever be. He’s with Katya, not with me. But it doesn’t stop my heart skipping a beat as he takes my hand again, towing me back to the rock where our stuff is. He pulls himself out of the water, the muscles in his back and shoulders standing out, his rash guard like a second skin. I try not to stare.
He reaches out to help me out of the water. I scramble up onto our rock, feeling the strange heaviness of being back on land. The stone is warm and slightly sandy, nice after being in cool water. I sit on my towel, pushing my wet hair back.
Myles is watching me again, and part of me wants to arch my back slightly, to deepen the heat I see in his gaze. I mentally slap that part of myself. What on earth am I thinking? I reach into my bag and pull out my cover-up, slipping on the layer of diaphanous red cotton between me and whatever is going on here.
“You hungry?”
