Page 13 of Obsession Under the Southern Stars

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We go into the main pool first. It runs the width of the resort, and it’s been warmed by the sun, so it’s a perfect temperature. I sit on the side, dangling my legs, and watch Joel walk up to the edge in his blue swim shorts. He stands there for a moment, looking down at the water, and butterflies flutter momentarily in my stomach. He has an athletic build—he’s slim, but with swimmer’s shoulders, wide and well-muscled, and although he doesn’t quite have a six pack, he’s all tight, toned, and tanned. He has a scattering of light-brown body hair, which I like. His eyes meet mine, and his lips curve up, just a fraction,as if he’s reading my mind and is aware I’m ogling him. Then he swings his arms forward and dives effortlessly and cleanly into the pool. The momentum carries him halfway up, and he swims the rest of the way under the water, then turns and swims the whole of the way back, also underwater.

Wow. That’s sexy.

He stops just in front of me, emerges into the sunlight, and takes a deep breath. Then he lifts up easily onto the side next to me and brushes back his hair. Droplets run down his brown skin, which glistens in the sun.

“You’ve taken off your makeup,” he says. He’s right—I have my eyelashes dyed, but I’ve cleansed my face for the swim, and it’s probably the first time he’s seen me without my usual black eyeliner. I wonder if the reality is a bit of a shock.

But his gaze skims my face, and he says, “You’re even more beautiful without it.”

“I know you’re the sort of guy who’d enjoy ducking me,” I tell him.

His lips curve up, and his eyes turn sultry. “I’ll duck you as often as you like.”

Ohhh… I want this guy so bad.

Sulkily, I push off and slide into the water, then swim away from him. I hear him laugh, then a splash as he joins me, and soon he’s swimming beside me, toward the far end of the pool.

I don’t get to swim as much as I’d like. Driving to the local pool is a hassle and I’m usually tired after work, and often busy at the weekend with seeing family and friends or catching up on chores. So it’s a real treat to swim in a pool like this.

The resort is set above ground level in the hills that circle the main center of Paihia, and therefore there is a spectacular view from the pool across to Waitangi, Russell, and the one hundred and forty-four islands that give the bay its name.

It’s a beautiful day. Around the pool, potted palms and ferns lend it a sub-tropical feel, interspersed with loungers and tables that are about half-filled at the moment. Waiters walk around with trays carrying drinks and food, and after we’ve swum a few lengths, Joel stops one of them and asks me what I want for lunch. The waiter passes us a laminated menu, and we choose a couple of toasted sandwiches and mocktails—alcohol-free cocktails, made with various fruit juices.

As the waiter goes off, Joel sweeps me up into his arms, making me squeal, “Put me down!”

“Not until I’ve ducked you senseless.” Laughing, he tosses me away, and I land with a huge splash and come up spluttering.

He catches me in his arms again, and I splash him back with exasperation.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

The nerve of him! “No petting in the pool,” I scold, wriggling away from him.

“Aw.” He sighs theatrically and lets me swim away. My heart is racing—I was so close to letting him kiss me then. I’m really going to have to keep my wits about me this week if I want to keep him at arm’s length.

We get out of the pool when lunch arrives and sit on a couple of loungers under an umbrella to eat and drink. Joel starts talking about the Relentless, and I ask him about some of the other wrecks he’s dived on, and that’s it—we talk about archaeology, and order dessert, and swim, and have another drink, and laze on the loungers again, still talking about archaeology, and it’s with some shock that I check my phone later and discover that it’s nearly four p.m.

“I need to have a rest and a shower before I get ready,” I tell him.

“Yeah,” he concedes, “me too.”

We rise and make our way up to our rooms. “Meet you in the lobby?” he suggests. “5:30?”

“Sounds good.”

He smiles. “Thank you for the nice afternoon.”

“Yeah, it was fun.”

His eyes sparkle, but he doesn’t say anything else, and he opens the sliding door to his suite and goes inside.

I do the same, going into my suite, locking the door, and walk through to the bathroom. I take off my bikini and put on a bathrobe, then go back into the bedroom. It has a small private balcony, and I open the sliding doors to it, then curl up on the bed, setting my phone alarm for 4:45 p.m.

I pull the pillow down and hug it. I’m glad of the sea breeze that blows across me as it’s very warm. It reminds me of Joel’s cologne, the light smell of grapefruit and patchouli with an undercurrent of the ocean.

I think of this morning, when I was in the middle of an argument with Mum and Dad, and I looked over to see him standing there. I’m pretty sure Olivia must have asked him to come in, because I’m certain that otherwise he’d have been happy to stay outside—nobody enjoys taking part in another family’s quarrels.

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