The Secret Father

Sam, who was sprawled in a deep rattan chair piled high with ethnic printed cushions, just raised one brow, a very eloquent brow. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you,’ he said quietly. His deep blue eyes were gazing with disturbing intensity at her face.

Lindy felt odd, trembling sensations sliding through her body and she gave a short laugh. He was aiming for the impossible. Somehow she had to come to terms with the fact that this man would always disturb her!

‘Didn’t anyone warn you to use insect repellent?’

‘I didn’t think they’d get to unexposed bits.’

‘Very persistent little brutes. If you have any trouble reaching the parts—no, maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea,’ he finished, giving a wry grin.

Lindy listened to his deep, attractive voice and suddenly wondered what she’d say if he suggested sharing the tub. The thought of his big muscular body, slick with water and within almost obligatory touching distance, made her go hot. Her chest felt tight, as if she couldn’t breathe, and the tension in the room almost crackled with high-voltage tension.

‘That wouldn’t be such a good idea either.’ His dryas-dust tone sliced through the atmosphere.

Her eyelids, which had been drooping over narrowed eyes, suddenly opened wide, and she let out a cry as she bit the tip of her tongue which had been tracing the outline of her dry lips. Was I really doing anything so blatant? she wondered with horror. She could taste the tang of blood on her tongue. He couldn’t possibly know what she’d been thinking! Could he? Mortification blasted her.

‘I was thinking the same thing,’ he said, by way of explanation. Or was it to soften her humiliation?

‘I don’t know how you can carry on a conversation when I’m not saying anything.’ An extra-fresh gust of wind made her shiver and lower her shoulders beneath the water.

Sam got up and closed the deck door. ‘Body language can be pretty eloquent,’ he said, looking down at her from his superior vantage point. ‘Do you want a drink?’ he asked abruptly, removing his gaze from her. ‘Beer, wine…?’

‘I’ll have a beer if there’s one going,’ she replied. Her face was burning as she imagined just what her body had been saying.

His absence gave her the opportunity to get out of the tub. She swathed herself in an ankle-length towelling robe. To think she’d actually toyed with the idea of taking a dip nude! Considering how vulnerable she’d felt in the black one-piece swimsuit she’d elected to wear, it didn’t bear thinking about. She was tying the belt very firmly around her waist when Sam returned, carrying two glasses.

‘False security, Rosalind,’ he murmured, placing the glasses on a ceramic-topped table. He reached towards her and gave the cord a sharp tug. The robe fell open and she gave a startled gasp. ‘It’s easy to see you were never a Boy Scout,’ he chided as his fingers deftly reknotted the tie firmly about her middle. Fingers looped in the belt, he gave a gentle jerk that brought her closer to him. ‘Aren’t you going to say thank you?’

She slowly raised her eyes to his face. The frightening sensation of losing control of the situation deepened as she absorbed the harsh tension in his expression and the searing heat that glittered in his eyes.

‘You’re very good…at kn-knots.’ It was a distinct possibility that, if he let go, she’d just fold up and collapse in a heap at his feet. I’m feeble, she told herself—feeble-minded and pathetic!

‘I do a lot of messing around in boats. It’s a skill that comes in handy. Did you know you talk to yourself?’ The sudden sharp query made her blink.

‘What?’

‘When I came in you were talking to yourself.’

Alarm gave her knees the strength to take her weight. Her chin took on a defensive angle and she pulled as far away from him as his thumbs, hooked in the fabric of her belt, would permit.

‘I was not!’

‘Nothing very intelligible, and it was interspersed with a lot of sighing. Does ‘‘Stupid, stupid, stupid’’ sound at all familiar?’ He watched the tell-tale colour wash over her skin and his lips curved in a taunting smile. ‘After ‘‘Damn and blast him to hell!’’ you stayed under water so long I was about to leap in and pull you out.’

‘How dare you spy on me? You’re nothing but a disgusting peeping Tom.’ She’d been so absorbed by her own thoughts that not only had she not been aware she hadn’t been alone, she hadn’t known she’d voiced her thoughts out loud.

‘Tell me, Rosalind, was I wrong to take your curses personally?’