Page 102 of Modern Romance Collection May 2024 Books 1-4

This is wrong.

The thought slammed into her. She wanted him. Dear God, how she wanted him. But they couldn’t do this, couldn’t make love, with so much unknown between them. With her lies hanging over them. And for all she knew Julius was engaged to another woman, or soon to be.

She started to say his name again, to tell him to wait while she gathered her thoughts. The sound of a boat horn cut across the water. Julius’s head snapped up.

Relief mingled with disappointment as Esme scrambled to her feet and hastily tightened the straps on her dress.

“Looks like a yacht.” She moved to the front where leather seats ringed the bow of the boat. “Still a half mile away. But they’re heading in our direction. Just trying to give us a heads-up.”

She waved in case anyone was watching through the binoculars, then turned.

Julius stood on the stern, his hands curled into fists at his sides. He stared at her with a hunger that made her feel like the most beautiful woman on earth even as it nearly frightened her with its intensity.

Had she wanted to be seen before? Because when he looked at her like this, as if he could see to the very depths of her soul and all the good and bad things inside her mind, it was both wonderful and terrifying.

“Esmerelda...”

She waited, apprehension chasing away the lingering traces of desire.

“I’m sorry.”

Of all the things she had expected to hear, an apology was at the bottom of the list.

“Excuse me?”

“What happened here was wrong.”

Bile rose in her throat, thick and bitter. She’d thought the same thing, but hearing it come out of Julius’s mouth made her sick to her stomach. He didn’t want her. He’d taken one taste and wanted no more. Nothing had changed. Nothing ever changed.

No.She was stronger. She was no longer depending on others for her own salvation. She wouldn’t run, wouldn’t crumble.

Her chin rose.

“I agree, sir.”

He swore and started forward.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It never is.”

She moved, keeping one of the leather lounges between them. He stopped, his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

“Damn it, Esmerelda, listen to me—”

“That yacht is approaching quickly.” She slipped back into her professional role, her voice void of emotion. “They may or may not have binoculars. They most certainly have phones or other recording devices onboard. If we want to ensure your anonymity, we need to go now.”

Within a minute they were back on the water. She urged the boat’s speed up as fast as she dared, wanting to get back to the villa, to put as much distance between herself and the island where she’d nearly made the second biggest mistake of her life.

Despite the wind rushing by, her focus shifting between the water and the navigation system, she knew the moment he moved to the seat behind hers.

“You misunderstood me.”

“I didn’t.”

A string of colorful Portuguese curses sounded behind her.

“That’s certainly new,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the wind. “I don’t recall hearing you swear like a sailor.”

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