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‘I can’t get over what an incredible coincidence this is—my sister is married to your boss’s cousin!’ she said as she waved to the young Malaysian up at the marine centre from whom she had hired the jet-skis and followed his pointing finger to the gleaming red and white machines being held in knee-deep water by another employee. ‘Why, that makes us practically family!’ She laughed, halting beneath a tall coconut palm that slanted out over the beach.
Luke spread out his towel in the shade of the fronds, carefully placing her bag on top of it. ‘I wouldn’t go quite that far.’
‘Well, kissing cousins at the very least.’ She gave him a sultry smile of sly mischief and tossed her hat down beside her bag. She tugged up the hem of her stretchy cotton Lycra dress and whipped it over her head. ‘You should have mentioned the connection sooner, then I wouldn’t have been so suspicious of you,’ she said, amused by his half-step backwards at her sudden strip.
For a moment it seemed as if he wouldn’t answer. In the black lenses of his sunglasses she could see twin images of herself reflected—slim, laughing figures in yellow floral bikinis that covered only the bare essentials.
Luke found his voice. ‘I thought it might sound encroaching,’ he murmured.
She planted one hand on the delicate arch of her hip and shook an exasperated finger at him. ‘Luke James, you are the least encroaching man I have ever met! Stop worrying about what people might think and start taking a few chances. Now, get your gear off and let me show you how to give a woman a good time!’
He flushed, his jaw clenching, but he did what he was bid. His naked torso had perfect triangular proportions—strongly defined shoulders and compact, hairless chest tapering to a washboard abdomen and narrow waist. His hips and legs were as whipcord-lean as the rest of him.
She whistled at him to show that she was impressed, then chuckled as she led him down to the water, wading in to say to the man holding the jet-skis, ‘We just want one for the first ten minutes or so.’ She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. ‘Luke’s never ridden one before, so I’ll take him out on the back of mine so he can see how it’s done.’
‘O.K. Did you read the rules at the centre?’
Rosalind nodded and he quickly reiterated the main ones and gave her a brief tour of the controls as she pulled herself up to straddle the red padded seat.
Luke hung back when Rosalind indicated for him to mount up behind her.
‘Come on; time is money, as you accountants would say. This is a two-seater, see?’ she said, scooting forward to show him there was ample room.
He still hesitated. ‘If you drive as recklessly as you seem to do everything else I hope the hotel has adequate insurance.’
Her green eyes flared at the insult but she held onto her temper, telling herself he was merely being his usual cautious self. ‘I promise you won’t get hurt... the worst that can happen is that we’ll both get wet. And this guy will come out in his Zodiac if the engine conks out.’
Her condescending tone and the glance of amused tolerance she exchanged with the hotel employee was impetus enough. With a grim smile Luke swung up into the seat.
‘You can hang onto the handholds at the side or me—whichever feels more secure,’ Rosalind yelled as she turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. The front of the craft lifted as she gunned the throttle and they leapt forward to crest the swell of the incoming waves.
She could hear Luke’s faint groans as they plunged from wave to wave; then they were out in the calm of deeper waters and after a few fancy turns and sharp, sweeping swathes she felt his hands snap around her waist. She laughed. She had known he wouldn’t be able to keep his distance for long. For one thing hunching down to the handholds was uncomfortable for any length of time if you were above average height.
‘If that’s your idea of fun, I think I can do without it,’ he said acidly when Rosalind finally sped back in and throttled down beside the other jet-ski.
‘It’s always uncomfortable riding pillion because you know you don’t have any control over what’s happening. Once you have the handlebars to grip onto you’ll find it’s quite a different feeling.’ She grinned as he dropped into the waist-deep water. ‘Did you see how I worked the throttle, or do you want it explained again?’
He placed a hand on the seat of the other jet-ski and vaulted onto it in a single, fluid movement. ‘It seems to be not much different from riding a motorcycle.’
‘You’ve ridden a motorcycle?’ Rosalind blinked tangled wet lashes at a brief, shocking image of that lean, hard body encased in sexy black leathers insolently unzipped from throat to groin.
He seemed
unreasonably irritated by her surprise. ‘I owned one as a teenager,’ he flung at her. ‘A Harley, as a matter of fact. You don’t have to be born to be wild like you to enjoy the occasional walk on the wild side, Roz!’
And with that he took off in a shower of spray, handling the powerful machine with only a slight clumsiness which vanished as soon as he hit the first wave, rising to his feet to absorb the impact of landing and leaning straight into a superbly flashy turn. Rosalind’s gaping mouth closed as her ready sense of humour rescued her from the uncomfortable physical awareness of a few moments ago and she roared after him with a rebel yell of delight. Talk about being a fast learner! At this rate she was going to have trouble keeping pace with her protegé!
CHAPTER SIX
LUKE provided her with delightful sport for the next hour as they raced back and forth across the bay, circling the buoys and pontoons, taking it in turns to ride each other’s wake and duelling with other jet-skis who dared challenge for supremacy of the waves.
It was the first time Rosalind had seen him completely uninhibited and she was startled by the streak of fierce competitiveness he revealed in their games. He liked to win, and when he did made no bones about enjoying his victory, punching a fist to the sky, his triumphant laugh ringing out over the water. She couldn’t quite believe that it was the same man who would hardly say boo to a goose on dry land!
Even more surprisingly, Rosalind was the one to flag first. When their time was finally up she was glad to hand over her jet-ski to someone else and stagger up the beach, cheerfully admitting as she flopped down on her towel that her arms and legs felt like jelly from the constant strain of controlling all that horsepower.
‘Not to mention another part of my anatomy that’s taken a pounding,’ she groaned as she wriggled on her back to make a nice contoured hollow in the sand for the tender region and propped her hat against the top of her head so that it shaded her face. ‘I must have lost more condition than I thought on that wretched island!’
Luke, who seemed if anything to be more energised by the experience, shook his towel before settling down beside her, leaning back on braced arms, his knees drawn up in front of him, flicking his wet hair back with a sharp toss of his head.
