of his hand, the strength of those fingers as they stayed in contact with hers and forced herself to pull away.
‘Are you crying?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got sand in my eyes. This is a very sandy place.’
‘You’re wearing sunglasses.’
‘Well, clearly they’re not very efficient.’ Furious and miserable, Avery pulled open the door and slid inside. Her heart was pounding, her control shredded and her emotions raw. Why on earth had she decided to put herself through this? And in the desert. A place so closely entwined with her relationship with Mal that she wasn’t even able to look at a picture of it without feeling sad.
On her first visit to Zubran she’d fallen in love. Twice. First with the country; with the contrast between stunning beaches and the wild beauty of the ever-changing dunes. Second, with the man. And somehow the two had become inextricably linked so that she couldn’t imagine one without the other. He was part of this wild place and part of the place existed within him, had bred the strength and resilience that formed that steel core of his personality.
Her feelings for him had terrified her and they terrified her still. And yes, that was why she’d done nothing but snap at him from the moment she’d got into the vehicle. The alternative was allowing that dangerous chemistry to take hold and she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do that.
Avery tightened her fingers on the wheel as she drove, every tiny part of her alive with awareness despite all her efforts.
Next to her in the passenger seat, Mal sat sprawled, beautiful eyes narrowed behind sunglasses as he stared ahead.
She was silent and so was he, but that silence did nothing to defuse the tension.
An hour passed.
And another hour.
Neither of them spoke a word. And she was relieved to be driving. Relieved to have something to focus on other than him. Except that it didn’t work like that, of course, because no matter how much she focused on the road, she was still aware of him, right there beside her. Within touching distance, except that she wasn’t allowed to touch. And awareness grew and grew until the air was almost too thick to breathe. Until the desire to touch him was almost overwhelming and she had to grip the wheel until her knuckles were white with the pressure.
This was why she wanted his marriage to go ahead, she thought savagely. Because only then would he be out of her head and out of her heart. She wasn’t the sort of woman who could hold onto feelings for a married man. That would be it. She could get back to a normal life.
After what felt like hours of silence, he finally spoke. ‘We’ll camp by those rocks up ahead.’ His tone was neutral. Devoid of emotion. ‘They should offer some protection from the elements.’
She didn’t need protecting from the elements. She needed protection from him. Or was it herself? She was no longer sure.
Confused and jittery, Avery parked and sprang from the vehicle. ‘You can camp by that rock and I’ll camp by the other.’ Distance, she thought. She needed distance. They needn’t even see each other until morning. She’d zip her tent up and she’d keep it zipped.
‘There is just one tent, Avery.’
‘What?’ His words blew out the foundations of her fledgling plan and answered any remaining questions she had about her feelings for him. ‘Just one? Why?’
‘Why does that matter?’ He seemed unusually interested in her reaction and she pushed away disturbing images of his muscle-packed length stretched next to hers.
‘Well, for a start, it isn’t exactly the done thing for a man to sleep with one woman when he is engaged to marry another. And then there’s always the chance that I’ll kill you in my sleep.’ If she slept. Which seemed unlikely.
‘I don’t intend to sleep with you.’ He leaned in and pulled a bag from the vehicle. ‘Just share a tent with you. It isn’t as if we haven’t done it before.’
But the last time they’d been lovers. Intimate in every way. They were both hot-tempered and stubborn and those traits had simply intensified the sexual connection between them.
Avery watched as he hauled the tent and the gear from the vehicle. ‘Why didn’t you bring two tents?’
‘I wasn’t expecting company. If you recall, you were the one who insisted on coming. Having already spread the word that I wanted a couple of nights in the desert alone, I could hardly articulate the need for a second tent.’ He focused his attention on creating their camp and she forced herself to help, even though doing so brought her into close proximity with him. She tried to subdue the choking, panicky feeling in her chest at the thought of sharing that confined space with him.
He’d be sleeping with his head next to hers. His body within touching distance.
She looked at his shoulders and immediately looked away again.
What if she had one of her nightmares? What if she reached for him in her sleep?
Making a mental note to lie on her hands and stay awake until he was asleep, she helped secure the tent, working without speaking. And it was exasperating to discover that he was as competent at this as he was at everything else.
Avery gritted her teeth. She wasn’t looking for things to admire about him. She didn’t want to admire him. Not when they were about to spend a night crammed into a relatively small space.