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Alex cleared his throat. ‘About last night…’
For a moment her heart stopped. It stuttered to a halt in her chest before kicking in again at a faster rate. His voice scraped deliciously along her nerves. She ignored it, placing a hand on his arm as she took a measured breath. ‘It’s okay. I know what you’re going to say and I really don’t need you to.’
‘Oh?’ Alex certainly hadn’t expected this. Even seeing her in her don’t-look-at-me clothes and glasses he felt his desire return. It was no use now—he was always going to know the secrets of the body under her white coat. Always going to want it.
‘Please, Alex.’ She turned to him, forcing a casual smile. He looked devastating this morning. He was wearing a white shirt unbuttoned, flapping in the breeze. She wanted him to take her again. Right here, right now. ‘It was a one-off. I was scared. You were comforting me. One thing led to another.’
He frowned. ‘It did.’
‘I understand. What happens on Piccolo stays on Piccolo. You don’t need to worry.’
‘Right.’
Alex was answering automatically, unsure of his place on the page. He’d been practising his own speech since he’d risen this morning, with her round naked bottom tucked into him. How inappropriate it had been. How wrong. All the reasons why it couldn’t be any more than it was. The same words he’d said to a lot of women. But then she’d joined him and memories of last night had clawed at him and the words had withered.
Isobella frowned at the uncertainty in his voice. ‘Isn’t that the way you like it—catch-kiss-and-throw-back?’
Usually, yes. Usually it was exactly the way he liked it. His frown deepened as the scary thought that maybe for once he wanted more entered his consciousness. No. He wouldn’t give another woman power over him again. Sonya had cured him of that. ‘What if you’re pregnant?’
Isobella gasped. ‘What?’
Alex was a little shocked himself. He hadn’t been expecting that to come out of his mouth. He shrugged. ‘We didn’t use any protection.’
Isobella placed a hand on her stomach. They hadn’t, had they? She’d been too frightened to think logically—contraception had never crossed her mind. Her womb suddenly ached at the thought of carrying Alex’s child. ‘I doubt that’ll be an issue,’ she said, her lips twisting.
Alex heard the derision in her voice. ‘Oh?’
Isobella shook her head. ‘Wrong time of the month,’ she lied. It was easier.
Alex nodded, surprised at how disappointed he was. ‘So you’re okay with all this? Just act like it never happened?’
Isobella steeled herself to look at him with absolute assurance. ‘Perfectly. Aren’t you?’
Alex snorted. He did this habitually. He knew the rules better than anyone—he’d written them. ‘Sure.’
‘Good,’ Isobella confirmed. ‘I’ll see you later, then.’
She turned away and trudged up the beach before she changed her mind, determinedly leaving behind the best time she’d ever had.
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAStwo days before they could leave Piccolo. Two days before the seas calmed and the sun came out. Isobella watched the island grow smaller from the back of the boat, a jewel sitting amongst crystal waters. She hugged herself. Whatever else happened in her life, she would always have Piccolo.
The last two days had been…strange. Pretending nothing had occurred had certainly sounded easy at the time, but hadn’t been so easy in practice. She’d been hyperaware of his every move, his every rumble, his every breath. He had been painstakingly polite, collegial, professional, but occasionally he had looked at her, and she’d seen desire slumbering in his gaze and heat had scorched her insides.
The nights had been the worst. Continuing rain had prevented his return to the beach, so having him directly above her had been a particular brand of torment. He hadn’t come to bed until long after her, but if his plan had been to sneak in after she was asleep then it had failed miserably. Sleep had proved elusive. For him, too, if the frequent creaking of the bed had been any indication.
She turned away from the island, facing the activity on the boat. Alex was talking to Mike as he drove. His profile was strong, almost regal, and she wished she could go to him, wrap her arms around his waist and have him look down at her and smile.
Theresa was squatting next to Sam, redoing the life jacket clips over his red T-shirt. The impish toddler looked set to become the next Houdini. Theresa stood ruffling her son’s hair, and Isobella watched as Sam’s chubby arms encircled Theresa’s bare brown leg. He looked up at his mother and gave her a grin that could melt a glacier.
