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The person who had spoken had been the girl she’d been all her life, but now she wasn’t sure if she was that girl any more. She didn’t know if she wanted to be that girl.
She wanted to be daring and careless of the consequences, like him. She wanted to live in the moment and not think about what other people thought. She wanted to kiss Conner MacNeil and enjoy every second of the excitement.
Without his hands to steady her, she almost stumbled as a wave hit her from the back and the shower of cold water seemed symbolic.
It was over.
Her moment of wild living had passed and she was back to being boring Flora. Sensible Flora. A girl who would never swim half-naked in the sea with a very unsuitable man.
But did she really want to be that girl?
‘Conner, wait.’ She grabbed his arm. ‘I don’t care about them. I don’t care if they see us.’
It took him a moment to reply and when he did, his voice was rough. ‘Yes, you do, angel. And quite right, too. How are you going to have a proper conversation with Mrs Parker if word gets round that you’ve been cavorting in the waves with Bad Conner? Be grateful to the locals. You’ve been saved from total corruption by the brave and persistent citizens of Glenmore.’
She didn’t know what to say to rescue the situation so she tried to joke about it. ‘Isn’t it typical? The first time I try to be wild, I have an audience.’
He laughed, then lifted a hand and drew his thumb slowly over her lower lip, the intimacy of the gesture in direct contrast to his words. ‘I’ve had more excitement being shot at in the desert.’ His tone was sarcastic but the look in his eyes made her dizzy.
‘I’m sure.’
His smile faded. ‘You’re not made for this, Flora, and both of us know it. You need a man you’re not ashamed to be seen with, so let’s end this now before we both do something that will keep the locals talking for years. I’ll swim to the other side of the beach and meet them there. Stay in the water until I’m out and they won’t see you. Can you make your way home safely?’
‘Of course. Do I look helpless?’
‘No, you look sexy.’ He gave a wicked smile and lowered his mouth to hers once more, his lips and tongue working a seductive magic that made the world spin. Then he lifted his head reluctantly and gave a resigned shrug. ‘Sorry about that. Just couldn’t help myself. Once bad, always bad, or so it would seem. You just had a lucky escape, Flora Harris. Five more minutes and we would have been in the middle of a practical scientific experiment involving frozen body parts and libido.’ Without giving her time to respond, he called to the men on the shore. ‘Back off, guys. I’ll be with you in a minute.’ And then he plunged back into the waves and swam away from her with a powerful crawl.
* * *
Nodding to the locals who were toasting his health, Conner raised his glass to his lips and tried to decide whether he should be grateful or just punch them.
Five minutes more and he would have been completing the corruption of Flora.
So he should be grateful, obviously. If he’d followed the episode to its natural conclusion, Flora would now be steeped in embarrassment and regret.
He remembered her anguished gasp when she’d realised that they’d been spotted. Even in the semi-darkness he’d been able to see the burning colour of her cheeks.
Narrow escape for her. And for him, he told himself firmly. It was hard enough being back on Glenmore, without having that on his conscience.
He drank deeply, trying to obliterate the memory of the way she’d tasted and the way her body had felt pressed against his. She’d been lithe, slender, slippery from the seawater—
‘Conner MacNeil, am I drunk or are you really sitting there drinking cranberry juice?’
Conner looked at Jim. ‘You are drunk. And I am sitting here drinking cranberry juice.’
Jim focused on the glass in his hand. ‘It looks disgusting.’
‘It is disgusting.’ But not as disgusting as Evanna’s home-made lemonade, he thought with wry humour. Something stirred inside him as he remembered Flora standing on the grass, clutching a pic
nic basket.
‘When I offered to buy you a drink…’ Jim lifted a finger and waggled it in his direction ‘…I meant a proper drink. A man’s drink. What are you? Wimp or man?’
Dismissing thoughts of Flora’s soft mouth, Conner gave a careless lift of his shoulder. ‘Wimp, obviously.’
‘Leave the man alone.’ Nick Hillier, the island policeman, slapped Conner on the back. ‘A hero can relax in any way he chooses. Personally, I’m just glad it’s not alcohol. It will save me the bother of arresting him for drink-driving later.’
Jim hiccoughed lightly. ‘Your old man knew how to drink.’
