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Chapter 2
BREATHE. JUST, BREATHE. Maddie wrapped her hands around the mug and tried not to stare at him. But she was fighting a losing battle because he was beyond addictive and she found her eyes inhaling him at every opportunity.
She’d never really gone for the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ guys, or so she’d thought, but this specimen of masculinity was breath-takingly intoxicating. He was easily six and a half feet tall and his build was slim, but at the same time, muscular, his skin a deep tan, his hair brown with a hint of gold at the front from where he’d spent time in the sun. But it was his eyes that had her fixated. They were a spectacular blue, flicked with gold, and the lashes surrounding them were thick and dark. His jaw was squared, but covered in the hint of stubble that made her fingertips itch with a desire to lift up and touch.
What the heck was happening to her?
She’d been stupid to keep walking when it had started to pour with rain, but it had been light enough and she’d presumed it would pass. Then, she’d got a little lost and before she’d known it she was on the beach beneath the enormous construction she’d been wondering about since she’d come to Ondechiara.
“You’re warm enough?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” she nodded, forcing herself to hold his eyes even when the intensity of his stare spread wildfire through her veins. “So what do you do when you’re not rescuing stray tourists from cliff tops?”
The briefest hint of a frown crossed his face. “I’m in finance.” The words were a little uneasy. She wondered if there was a problem with his job. The global finance industry had been in turmoil lately, it was possible he’d been caught up in that. She didn’t want to pry, particularly if he’d recently been made redundant or similar.
She was lucky to be immune from that kind of consideration in her line of work. “I’ve always admired people who are good with numbers,” she said, instead. “I’ve never had much of a head for them.”
“Everyone has a head for numbers.”
She pulled a face. “I beg to differ.”
“Maths is everywhere,” he pointed out, finishing his coffee and placing it in the sink.
“And I use it as little as possible.”
“It’s hard to avoid.”
“I’ve made it an art form,” she winked, and wished she hadn’t when he formed a slow, sensual grin in response.
“What do you do then? When you’re not avoiding numbers like the plague.”
She sipped her tea. “I’m a writer.”
For the briefest moment, something shifted in his expression, so he was stern and alert. “As in a journalist?”
She shook her head. “No. As in a fiction writer. A novelist.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded.
“Would I have read anything you’ve written?”
She bit down on her lip. “I doubt it. I sell okay in the UK and Australia, but not anywhere else yet.” She lifted her shoulders. “It’s a labour of love, but at least the hours are flexible and I can do it from anywhere in the world.”
“So you’re here for research?” He prompted after a moment.
A smile lifted the corner of her lips. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. It’s kind of a writer’s retreat,” she substituted. “I needed a break. From home.” She sipped her tea quickly, choking on it a little.
“Where’s home?”
“England.” It was a vague answer that told him nothing he didn’t presumably already know, given her accent. She couldn’t help it. In the six months since leaving London, she’d received several text messages from Michael each week. It was impossible to feel safe and as though she was out of the woods when he was still reaching out to her. Every time she saw his name on her phone, she panicked. It was like being dragged back into their home, back into his life, the sensation suffocating and cloying.
“London?”
She stood up a little jerkily and moved towards the large windows. “You were right about the storm. It’s not showing any sign of letting up.”
He was quiet for a few moments and she held her breath, wondering if he was going to let her conversation change go. But after a few moments, his voice came from right behind her. “Our summer storms tend to be like that. There aren’t many, but when they come, they’re violent as all hell.” She lifted her gaze to his face, marvelling at the strength there, a bone structure that reminded her a little of the cliff face she’d scaled earlier that day. “When I was a boy, I was here with my grandfather and Yaya when a storm came through. It destroyed half the town, including this place.”
