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‘So, he escaped his family by living on the streets.’ The ache in the little corner of her heart was not just for the boy he had once been, but the lone wolf he had become.
Presumably it had been her grandfather who had taken him out of that old life, which perhaps explained the loyalty he seemed to feel towards the older man.
She gave a sudden laugh as she realised that, ironically, it turned out that Zach was as much of a member of the do-gooding fraternity he claimed to despise as she was!
Happily, Selene misinterpreted her amusement.
‘I know, young love. The thing is,’ she said, lowering her voice to a confidential whisper, ‘I think young Alexi is quite relieved. Della is a rather intense girl and very young for her age.’ She hefted out a sigh. ‘Better to give her the day off than risk any more meltdowns, I think. I’ll leave you to your exploring.’
Her exploring took Kat to the beach, where she peeled off the clothes over the black swimsuit she’d put on earlier. She could not swim but she could paddle. She waded out, thigh deep, staring, eyes scrunched against the sun, out to sea. She let her thoughts drift—the tide took them inevitably in the direction of Zach. Would she challenge him with his background, ask him why he was so afraid anyone might suspect he was a good guy?
It was almost as if he had tried to make her think the worst of him earlier. Maybe there was a worse but there was also a better. A better he seemed not to want anyone to see...or is that just me?
She shook her head as she collapsed onto the warm sand. The man was a confusing mass of contradictions! As she shook back her hair she let the sun dry the moisture from her skin, rubbing the sand away as it dried on her bare arms and legs.
It was only when she removed her watch from the pocket where she had put it for safekeeping that she noticed the time. With a yelp, she jumped to her feet, dragged her clothes on over her now dry swimsuit and began to jog up the deserted beach.
She had reached the green manicured lawns that ran down to the sand when she collided not with one of the palms, but a solidity that had warmth.
If his hands had not remained on her shoulders she would have fallen over. Her hands clutched his hair-roughened, sinewy forearms as she inhaled a deep breath of his warm male scent, causing her stomach to violently clench in hopeless desire.
Slowly, her eyes lifted, over the clinging T-shirt stretched across his broad chest to his face. Like the rest of his skin, it was filmed with salty moisture.
She didn’t say a word; she couldn’t. She ached for him. Quite literally. She hadn’t thought it was possible.
It took every ounce of his willpower to resist the longing in her eyes as she looked up at him. Alekis’s granddaughter who needed...deserved more than someone like him could give.
‘You don’t look in the party mood.’ Hair wild, skin glazed with a sun-kissed look, her lips lightly crusted with salt that he longed to kiss off, she looked the ultimate in desirability.
Kat swallowed the occlusion in her throat; her chest felt constricted and tight. He was close, too close. She couldn’t breathe, or think, just feel. Too much feeling.
‘I’m in panic mode. I’m cutting it a bit fine, probably.’ She lifted a hand to her tangled hair and took a step back. His hands fell away as she looked at him through her lashes.
‘I should run,’ she said, thinking, Don’t let me.
‘Yes.’
* * *
She was still running as she entered her suite, brought to a panting, shocked immobility by what waited for her there.
‘Good evening,’ she said pleasantly to the small army of assorted people assembled inside her private salon. What the hell?
She looked to Selene, brows raised, for explanation, even though the hairdryers, tongs and assorted brushes sticking out of a couple of bags was a clue.
‘I thought you might like to start getting ready now?’ Selene’s anxious glance at the ormolu clock over the fireplace that held a massive flower arrangement suggested that she thought this process should have begun some time earlier, and, considering Kat’s salty hair had taken on a life of its own, she couldn’t really blame her.
‘Oh, have you been waiting?’
‘Not at all,’ came the polite lie.
‘Actually, you can all have the evening off,’ she said, addressing the small makeover army. ‘I’m more than happy to get myself ready.’
The expression of shock and consternation on the older woman’s face almost made Kat smile. Clearly the idea that Kat could dress herself, do her own hair and apply her make-up shocked the present company deeply. They wanted to argue, Kat could feel it.
‘Honestly, I’ve been dressing myself for years.’
Nobody smiled. Kat felt her impatience edge up; she enjoyed a spa day as much as anyone, but she couldn’t see it becoming part of her daily routine, or even big day routine.
