Page 18 of One Forbidden Night In Paradise (Hot Winter Escapes)

Besides, going back to England would mean having to see Holly’s disappointed face and Ed’s despairing one. In comparison, Chase’s offer seemed like a blissfully straightforward solution to her problem, a problem that was at least some of his making. After all, it was his men who had turned her idyllic holiday home into a building site.

Her heart thumped against her ribs. This wasn’t some Faustian pact. And it would only be for a week at most and it wasn’t as if he were even going to be there.

She felt the boat slow and glanced up, her throat tightening as Chase switched off the engine. A tall man wearing Bermuda shorts and a polo shirt stepped forward and deftly caught the prow of the boat. A slim, dark-haired woman in similar clothes stood beside him, smiling.

‘Good evening, Mr Farrar. Welcome home.’

She watched Chase step onto the jetty with the same casual grace with which he did everything and then nearly jumped out of her skin as his hand clamped around her elbow. ‘Here, let me help you.’

He was just being polite, she told herself, but as he released his grip, she took a quick step sideways, her hands curling into fists to stop herself from rubbing the place where his fingers touched her skin.

‘This is Ms Friday. She’ll be staying at the house. Jemima, this is Robyn and Troy. They will be looking after you.’

‘A pleasure to meet you, Ms Friday.’ Troy smiled. ‘I hope you enjoy your stay.’

‘Thank you.’

Troy glanced up at the sky.

‘It’s going to be a close thing tonight, boss.’

Chase nodded. ‘I reckon so.’

‘The house is just up here.’ As they walked along the path it lit up ahead of them like a landing strip. Which was both impressive and lucky, she thought, glancing up at the sky. It must be cloudy because there were no stars tonight. It made the sky feel closer somehow, the sea too.

She shivered, the butterflies back in her stomach again, and then quite suddenly the house appeared out of the lush tropical vegetation. It was, she decided, more a hideaway than a house. A piece of treasure plucked from the seabed cupped in a hand.

There were a couple of steps leading up to a wide wooden veranda and Jemima followed him cautiously inside. ‘I’ll give you a quick tour of the house,’ he said, turning to give her one of those blink-and-you-miss-it smiles.

He wasn’t kidding, she thought as Chase walked swiftly through the house, opening doors and rattling off the names of the rooms. There was an urgency to the tour, as if he had somewhere he’d rather be, which he did, she reminded herself. But it was the coolness of his manner that was getting under her skin.

Irritated by the sheer stupidity of that thought, she turned her attention to the house.

Here, unlike on the main island, there were no pastels, no eye-popping candy colour. Instead, the decor was understated and masculine, a luxurious mix of wooden floors, pale walls and architectural-looking furniture. The lighting was soft and unobtrusive like a harvest moon.

‘And this will be your room,’ he said abruptly as she followed him upstairs and through yet another door.

‘It’s lovely,’ she said, because it was. Her eyes moved appreciatively from the curved rattan bed with its white voile curtains to a vase of delicate pale green orchids.

‘There’s a dressing room through there.’ He indicated another door. ‘For when you want to unpack.’

She glanced back over to where her bags were sitting neatly by the bed.

The bed.

It had been turned down, one corner of the duvet folded back invitingly to reveal a smooth white sheet, and her cheeks grew warm as she remembered the tangle of sheets on the bed on Chase’s boat and the contours of his body as they melted into one another.

She could feel his level gaze raking her face, and, needing to get away from him and the bed, she turned towards a second door and said quickly, ‘What’s in here?’

It was the bathroom. A very beautiful bathroom with a free-standing marble bath and a walk-in shower that could happily fit a football team. There was a selection of toiletries in matt, metallic tins and she picked one up, her eyes widening as she read the list of ingredients. White clay.Camu-camu—whatever that was. Orange flower water. Vetiver and passion-fruit oils.

‘It’s there to be used, so help yourself to anything you want.’

Her chin jerked upwards, and she blinked. Chase was standing behind her, his gaze resting on her reflection. In this light, the irises were the colour of the pine forests at home and she felt a mix of hunger and homesickness so intense that her belly clenched painfully.

‘Thank you.’ Dropping her gaze, she put the tin down carefully as if it were a newly laid egg. He was so close she could feel the warmth of his body, and the scent of his skin, his scent, enveloped her. As she breathed it in, her eyes met his reflection again and she felt fingers of heat low in her belly, impossible to ignore.

He was doing this to her, she thought, fighting panic. He was making her feel all hot and confused and on edge. But how? They barely knew each other. And yet with him, she felt she knew herself better. Which was crazy and utterly illogical.

---