‘J’ai appelée au secours.’
A strange voice broke Tia’s thoughts, and it took a moment for her to realise that it was the woman from the boat.
‘I am calling ze help services. They come now.’
‘Thank you. Merci.’
‘Je peux faire quelque’chose d’autre?’
For a moment Tia’s head swam, but whilst the words meant little to her the tone was clear. The woman wanted to help. She continued with her chest compressions.
‘Defibrillator?’ Tia asked, then, hopefully, ‘Défibrillateur?’
‘Non, mais il y a un poste de pompage... How you say? A pump-house? Wait... I go.’
Before Tia could answer, the woman had hurried away and she was left with her patient, not even daring to lift her head to check if Zeke was all right. Or her son.
‘Seth, baby, are you all right?’
‘Yes, Mummy.’ Clear, confident. Trusting her.
She couldn’t let this man die. Not for him. But also, not in front of her son.
And then, suddenly, Zeke was there, his voice low and reassuring to Seth. And at the same time the woman was back, mercifully with a defibrillator in her hands. Gratefully, Tia took it and turned to Zeke.
‘He’s having a heart attack. You take over the chest compressions whilst I get this ready. Okay, stand clear.’
It took two shocks and some more CPR before the cyclist’s heart was back in normal sinus rhythm, having managed to converse briefly, and laboriously, with his fellow cyclist. Still Tia was grateful when the emergency services arrived as she was stabilising him, the handover going much smoother when Zeke stepped in to translate, a proud Seth tightly gripping his hand.
Father and son. Her chest tightened, almost painfully. She was at serious risk of falling in love with Zeke all over again. And that would be the definition of stupidity, since it was clear he was every bit as determined to keep her at a distance as he had ever been.
The sooner she got her and Seth back to Delburn Bay, the better.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WITH A FINAL intake of breath to quell her nerves, Tia pushed open the anteroom door to the master suite and stepped inside. The odd noises had stopped a while ago, but the draw was still powerful.
In front of her were the panelled double doors to the bedroom, slightly ajar, to her left a single, open panelled door to his walk-in closet. Tia turned to her right where another single, panelled door barely muffled the sounds of a shower.
Tia froze. This wasn’t what she’d bargained for.
She couldn’t have said how long she stood there, unable to move, but suddenly the shower was being turned off and there were sounds of movement inside. She turned awkwardly, almost crashing into the burr walnut table as she tried to leave.
The en-suite bathroom door opened instantly.
‘Tia.’ He sounded taken aback and she spun back around, an apologetic smile plastered on her lips.
‘Zeke...’
Suddenly any hostility that she’d sensed in Zeke dissipated.
‘Is Seth okay?’ he asked urgently.
‘Seth’s fine,’ she managed.
But any other words were choked off by the sight of him standing—filling—the doorway, imposing and autocratic as ever despite his state of virtual undress.
Her mouth seemed to simultaneously dry up and yet water. Her eyes wandering greedily over the sight in front of her, from his wet hair, slightly spiky from the shower, to the broad shoulders that seemed to stretch from one door jamb to the other. One muscled arm was braced against the wooden frame, emphasising his solid, honed, tanned chest, which boasted more of an eight-pack than a six-pack, and which tapered to an athletic waist with hips barely holding onto a towel.