There was laughter and desultory clapping from the rest of the party and a few shouts of 'viva women's lib' and Max waved away the catcalls with a joke.
‘I think she went easy on me.'
'Of course I did,' Sarah taunted, elated. Victory over him gave her fierce pleasure. 'I didn't want the male ego to suffer too much damage.'
'And provide my psychiatrist with more work? You obviously have hidden resources, you're constantly surprising me. Congratulations,' he told her flushed, triumphant face.
'For surprising you? Or for beating you?' Sarah dared.
'Both. How many more talents are you hiding? One thing at least, that's no longer hidden—you're in excellent shape.'
He leaned slightly towards her, placing a forefinger on her shoulder and running it lightly down to the crook of her elbow. She could hardly believe her eyes when he put the finger to his mouth and tasted the water he had stroked from her arm. The lazy flicker of his tongue seemed an intimate suggestion and the look in his eyes confirmed her suspicion that he had made the gesture deliberately, to disconcert her. He did. She could almost feel the rough, moist warmth of his tongue on her skin; the sensation was indecently real and her reaction was to dash water against her arm, washing his touch away.
'And I've discovered that you're not invincible after all,' she returned quickly, ignoring a prickle of unease at his rather smug smile.
'Did you think I was?' he asked softly. 'I freely confess
I'm not. But remember, that I don't like to lose too often. It brings out the devil in me.' She didn't think the devil needed bringing out! 'Come on, come and dry off.'
'I want to stay in a bit longer, ' she protested, automatically wanting the opposite to what he said.
'Really?' He looked sceptical. 'AH right, I'll join you.'
For a moment they stood engaged in a silent tussle of wills before Sarah gave in. She had won, she could afford to be gracious . . . this time. She followed him out of the water and held out her hand for the towel he stooped to pick up for her. But instead of handing it over he held it against himself, just out of her reach, and stared at her body.
Sarah tensed, this wasn't an idle glance, and was fiercely glad that she had not worn a bikini. If she had looked down she would have been aghast to realise that the wet green suit revealed more to the experienced eye than even the skimpiest of bikinis. The shiny, silky fabric clung lovingly close, outlining every curve and hollow like a second skin. Although it took an almost superhuman effort she remained, hand patiently outstretched, as if she didn't give a damn that he was looking at her.
She was momentarily distracted from her agonising self-consciousness when she noticed a faint, almost imperceptible tracery of scars radiating down from underneath his left arm. They were thin and pink and quite obviously permanent. Simultaneously Sarah felt a pang of sympathy and a grim satisfaction that he was flawed, albeit it a small way.
When he moved he took her by surprise, throwing the towel around her shoulders and pulling her close.
'That suit is rather like you,' he murmured close to her ear. 'Misleadingly demure; until studied in detail.'
He held the ends of the towel more firmly, as she wriggled, then stiffened into stillness as her damp thighs brushed his hair-roughened legs. He was so close and she was electrically aware of what seemed like acres of bare skin, his and hers.
'Don't be embarrassed,' he continued smoothly, watching her blush with interest. 'You have a lovely body. You should wear less more often.'
She gasped and he let her go with a laugh. She went straight back to the cubicle where she peeled off the offending suit and used the towel roughly, externalising the tingling feeling. Wretched man! He hadn't seemed very put out at all by his defeat, considering the way he had reacted to her questioning his capability. He should have been annoyed, not amused. She could handle his annoyance, it even made her feel superior in fact, but that way he had of smiling as if at a private joke, a joke on her, was infuriating.
Sarah slipped on the underwear she had packed in the shoulder-bag and pulled the black-and-white sundress over her head. It was a simple uncrushable cotton sheath, elasticised at the waist with a slit to mid-thigh on one side. Simple but flattering the proportions of her body, which most of her other clothes failed to do. Today, for the first time in a long while she had felt the urge to wear something pretty. Now she wished she hadn't. He would think she was dressing to impress him.
She wrung out her suit over the little grate in the corner of the cubicle and tucked it into a plastic bag. Then, looping a couple of errant strands of wet hair into the dampness of her pleat, she re-emerged, thankful to have her sandals on again as protection from the blistering heat of the quarry tiles.
Over at the bar where she had left her drink Max was mixing something in a short glass. He was wearing white trousers and a slim-fitting body shirt, unbuttoned. He had been quick. No doubt he gets a lot of practice at rapid dressing, Sarah thought bitchily under cover of a smile.
He smiled too. 'I think this is the first time I've seen you out of swamp colours. What happened, did the military appropriate your wardrobe for camouflage manoeuvres? Open sandals too. My God, it's positively obscene!'
'It's my day off,' she replied, taking a firm grip on the smile.
'And mine. However there is a little matter of business we must discuss. Julie said we can use the privacy of her study.' He turned towards the open french doors, pausing with an exaggerated sigh when he realised Sarah had not moved.
'Are you waiting to be proved wrong again?'
'Pardon?' Where was Julie? Why did she get the feeling she had been manipulated yet again into an unwelcome situation?
'This is the second time you've suspected me of having designs on your virtue, isn't it? Never mind, maybe it will be third time lucky!'
CHAPTER SIX