Page 23 of One Forbidden Night In Paradise (Hot Winter Escapes)

She glanced at the screen, her eyes widening.

‘That was our last big find. It’s a Spanish boat, from a convoy that sank in October 1715.’ He clicked through the photos, talking her through the artefacts, but instead of looking at the screen, he found himself watching Jemima’s face. She listened with her whole body, he thought, and, gazing down at the curve of her breasts, he felt his own body harden, and for a few pulsing seconds he considered pushing the laptop off the breakfast bar and lifting her onto it and seeing what happened.

‘Doesn’t it damage the wreck?’

She was looking straight into his eyes, and, caught off balance between the eager, responsive woman in his head and the reality frowning up at him, he was harsher than he intended to be. ‘It’s a wreck, Jemima. The clue’s in the name.’

‘Yes, but there’s a whole community of marine life there.’ She pointed at the screen and the disappointment in her voice snagged on his skin. Most women purred with excitement when they found out he looked for treasure, but Jemima was making him feel like a jerk.

‘And we work around it. Look, I’ve done it all. Base jumping. Free climbing. White-water rafting. This is the biggest rush.’

‘So that’s all it is for you? An adrenaline rush.’

Watching her mouth flatten, he felt the starkness of her words stick in his throat as he shrugged. ‘Adrenaline is good for you. It can block pain. Help you breathe. Improve your sight, boost your immune system.’ Intensify your pleasure, he thought silently as she stared up at him.

‘But there’s so much more to it than that,’ she said quietly.

For the second time in as many less than five minutes, his ego rebelled against her dismissive tone. He could have told her that he employed a team of marine archaeologists, and that Farrar Exploration was committed to displaying the finds in museums. He could have told that, after years of working punishing hours to build a global business worth billions, he had earned the right to take three months off every year to comb the ocean for its secrets. But why should he have to defend himself to some snarky little student eco-warrior? This wasn’t some college debate.

‘More than what?’

‘Short-term pleasure.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with short-term pleasure,’ he said softly.

He watched, waited and, sure enough, her cheeks turned pink.

‘I didn’t say there was,’ she said stiffly. ‘I just don’t think that the ocean is there to be plundered for thrills.’

‘Thrills make money. And money makes the world go round.’

‘You’re very cynical.’

‘And you’re very naive.’

‘I’m not naive.’ Outrage shone out of her eyes. ‘I just think it would be so much better if we all concentrated our efforts on something other than satisfying our own transitory, selfish agendas. Because the world is doing its best to sustain us, but it needs our help.’

Her face was flushed and she looked a little stunned by her outburst, and he felt ashamed suddenly of how jaded he must seem and he might have even told her so if she hadn’t suddenly slid off the stool. ‘Thank you for the food. I’ll be sure to tell Robyn how delicious it was. I’ll let you get back to your emails.’

‘I’ll see you at breakfast.’ He got to his feet too and suddenly they were both standing, and close enough that he could see her pulse beating in her throat. For a moment, they stared at one another, and then she blinked.

‘I don’t really eat breakfast.’

‘That’s a shame. Robyn does the most fantastic croissants.’

He thought for a moment that she was going to tell him where to put his croissants, but instead, she said, ‘Goodnight,’ in that absurdly stiff principal’s voice and stalked out of the kitchen.

The sudden silence in the empty kitchen made his shoulders tighten and he put his hand over his heart, feeling it beating out of time. Watching her face light up with that flare of passion reminded him of how she had caught fire in his arms. She might have left that morning, but he hadn’t been able to forget that night, and now he pictured her mouth, pink and swollen from his kisses, her blonde hair tangled against the pillow.

The air twitched around him. In that moment they had felt so close, so connected, but that was the trick sex played on people. Away from the unravelling heat of the bedroom, he and Jemima were not just different, they were poles apart. She thought the world was benign and that you could work with it to make things better, whereas he knew that life was dangerous and cruel and random, and you had to be constantly vigilant to counteract that threat.

In other words, he and Jemima had nothing to offer one another except on one level. But he could resist her. After what he’d been through, he had no doubt of that.

The trouble was he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

CHAPTER FIVE

OPENINGHEREYES, Jemima stared confusedly around the darkened bedroom. But then it wasn’t that surprising to feel a little disoriented given that she was waking in her third different bed in as many nights.

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