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‘That remark you made... You know nothing of my relationship with Oliver!’
‘I don’t have to,’ Leandro responded wryly.
He replaced his shades, concealing his eyes, and infuriatingly looked as though he might be on the point of nodding off to sleep in the tropical sun.
‘And what does that mean?’ Irritated, she poked him in his side with her toe.
He caught her foot before she could pull it away.
‘I really would avoid doing that,’ he drawled, removing the sunglasses to lodge them on the top of his head.
‘Or else what?’
Leandro dealt her a slashing smile and kept hold of her foot. ‘If you start touching me you might find that I start touching you back...’
Emily’s heart slowed and heat suffused her face. She had never been so conscious of her body before—even though he wasn’t looking at it, even though his eyes were firmly fixed on her face, even though his expression, despite the innuendo behind his words, was deceptively amused.
‘And that’s what I’m talking about...’ he continued, with silky-smooth intent.
Emily stared at him in silence. She didn’t want him to carry on. She really didn’t want to hear what he had to say on a subject she had no desire to talk about. But she felt like a rabbit, frozen in the headlights while a car moved inexorably at full speed towards it.
‘Ah, I see you get where I’m coming from...’
He sat up and his hand snaked to her wrist, tugging her down beside him so that she half fell onto the rug before shuffling into a sitting position whilst glaring impotently at him.
‘The cat is out of the bag, Emily. You’re no longer the personal assistant hiding behind a bland exterior with a non-existent private life.’
She was so close to him that he could see the flicker in her eyes...could almost smell the scent of an awareness she was desperate to conceal.
‘You’re engaged to be married to a man for whom you have feelings of...what? Exactly? Certainly not love and—let’s be honest, here—definitely not physical attraction. And do you know how I’ve come to that conclusion?’
He ran his thumb along the side of her cheek in a gesture that was shockingly intimate and she pulled away sharply.
‘Point proved. I’ve come to that conclusion, my dear personal assistant, because you’re attracted to me...’
CHAPTER SIX
EMILY WAS NOT looking forward to the evening that lay ahead of her, terrifying in its uncertainty, filled with the dreadful potential to do damage in places she least wanted.
‘Because...my dear personal assistant...you’re attracted to me...’
She recalled Leandro’s absolute amused certainty as he had spoken those words, the way his dark eyes had held hers for just a second before roving indolently over her, touching every part of her body until she felt as though she was going to go up in flames.
Of course she had denied any such thing vigorously. She had schooled her features into a mask of disdain. She had reminded him that she had been his secretary for nearly two years, so how, she had asked pointedly, had he only now reached such a ridiculous conclusion? She had informed him coolly that the hot weather must have gone to his head.
Then she had taken refuge in the sea, putting her limited swimming skills to the test and striking out until she’d realised that if she didn’t swim back to shore he would probably do something insane, like try and rescue her yet again.
The thought of those strong arms around her had almost made her lose her stride.
He had pulled back the curtain and revealed the monster. The sexual attraction she had been feeling—the one she had tried desperately to conceal—had been exposed and held up for inspection, and even though he had politely allowed the matter to drop she knew that his conclusions had not changed.
They might just as well not have bothered with the trip round the island. She had barely been able to notice a thing. The delicious lunch, eaten in the charming miniature botanical gardens, surrounded by wildly colourful flowers and the sound of birds and insects, had been wasted on her. She had brought her phone with her, thinking that she would capture some of the sights, but in fact she hadn’t taken a single picture.
She had been too busy thinking about what he had said and feverishly agonising about the myriad ways he could make the rest of her stay uncomfortable.
She now longed for the safety of those London office walls. She wished that she had avoided this wretched overseas situation by fabricating some kind of clever excuse.
Failing that...
She looked at her reflection and saw, despite the tumultuous churning in her head, the image of a relaxed young woman nothing at all like the expressionless personal assistant who had made a virtue out of being impassive, remote and professional.
She had caught the sun. Despite frequent applications of sunblock her skin was lightly tanned and satin-smooth. Her already fair hair was dazzlingly blonde, lightened by the sun. Forced into summer clothes, her body seemed more exposed than she could ever remember noticing.
She should have been getting a tan for the guy waiting for her back home, but instead she was caught up fighting emotions that had no place in her life, and being apprehensive that somehow those emotions, which she could barely quantify, would take on a life of their own and start demanding attention she couldn’t afford to give them.
She would have to return to the topic, like it or not, and dispatch it with a version of the truth—just enough to ensure that things returned to normal. Or as normal as was possible while they were trapped here on Paradise.
* * *
She left it as late as possible to join Leandro for dinner. The photo shoot had taken place and she knew that he had been booked for a personal interview and a series of pictures to accompany the article. The last thing she wanted was to be involved and have her picture taken. The entire crew would be staying the night on the hotel compound, sampling the rooms, but an offshore boat had been laid on for them so that they could enjoy dinner out at sea.
Emily thought that they must have fought to get the dream job of a lifetime on this photography stint.
Running nearly an hour late, she found him nursing a drink at the bar, and she faltered before taking a deep breath and walking confidently towards him.
‘Am I supposed to consider this fashionably late?’ Leandro enquired when she was standing next to him.
She still couldn’t quite get used to not seeing him in a suit. Every time she laid eyes on his bare brown arms, his muscular legs, that glimpse of chest visible behind the casual shirt with the top buttons undone, she felt the force of impact anew.
No different now. He was, thankfully, in a pair of long, cool khaki trousers and a dull blue polo shirt, loafers without socks.
‘I fell asleep and didn’t wake up in time,’ Emily lied.
‘You’ve caught the sun.’ He beckoned across a waiter and ordered a bottle of wine. ‘I thought we could try somewhere different tonight. One of the restaurants in the town.’
‘I’d rather stay here,’ Emily interjected quickly, because the thought of yet more unchaperoned time with him was the last thing she wanted. ‘I’m feeling a little too tired for going out again...’
‘Despite the long sleep?’
He marvelled that away from the grey London skies and the impersonal office setting she could have undergone such a dramatic change. The severe hairstyles had all but been abandoned. Instead of her habitual bun she had braided her long vanilla-blonde hair into a loose plait which was draped over one shoulder and tied at the end with a scruffy red elastic band. Devoid of all but the most basic make-up, and wearing no jewellery whatsoever, she still managed to look classier and more tempting than any of the heavily adorned women he was accustomed to dating.
Her dress was a silky flowered shift which exposed as little as possible and yet still managed to get his imagination going.
And that was without thinking back to how she had looked in that unadventurous swimsuit! All long limbs and ballet dancer grace...
He felt the push of an erection and forced it away with difficulty.
‘The sun tires me out,’ Emily told him vaguely. ‘I think I’d spend half my time in bed if I lived over here.’
‘Interesting thought.’
Their eyes tangled briefly and she looked away, flushing. There she went again, she thought with annoyance, rising to a bait she wasn’t even sure he had consciously planted. Proving to him that what he had said about the whole attraction thing was true. An indifferent woman didn’t blush whenever there was the slightest bit of innuendo behind a remark!
If she had been with her previous boss, a fatherly type in his sixties, she would not be trying to fight down the colour invading her cheeks and staring at the bartender with the desperation of a drowning swimmer searching for a life belt in open water.
‘How did the photo shoot go?’
‘You missed the post-shoot excitement,’ Leandro said drily. ‘Drinks on the house nearly put paid to their boat trip out to sea. I asked the skipper to make sure the crew kept an eagle eye on the lot of them. Man overboard! is not what I want to hear drifting across the water while we’re in the middle of our meal.’
