Marooned with the Millionaire

His lips turned up in answer. ‘Good. I think you may be a natural.’

Was it his smile, or his proximity, or the fact that she had just exposed something of herself? Who knew? All she did know was that awareness had started to swirl around them.

Realisation dawned that she might have punched out her anger, but her desire hadn’t got the message and had clearly manacled itself inside her. And now it burgeoned into the knowledge that all it would take was one step and their bodies would touch. One movement and she could rest her hand on his chest, feel the wall of muscle through the thin material of his T-shirt.

Bad idea.

But she didn’t care.

One step—that was all it took.

Marcus’s gaze didn’t waver from hers, and his dark eyes burnt with a desire that matched her own. Without a word he reached for her. His hands curved round her waist in a possessive grip that thrilled her as he tugged her even closer. He lowered his head and his lips met hers, their touch so new, so wonderful, it pierced her very soul. At first it was feather-light, and then, as she parted her lips in a small moan, he deepened the kiss and backed her against the wall. April slid her hands under his T-shirt. Her head spun in the sheer soar and swoop of desire.

‘April...’

His voice was ragged now, and she stared at him wide-eyed, bereft because his lips had left hers.

‘You said earlier that you didn’t want this. If you still feel the same way, now is the time to say so.’ He hauled in a breath. ‘Before stopping this becomes even harder than it is right now.’

The words took a while to permeate the fog of desire and her emotions warred. How did he have the control to stop? Yet she had to appreciate the fact that he had—that he hadn’t taken advantage of the situation and was giving her a choice. A choice she didn’t know how to make.

‘I—’

At that instant the buzz of his phone saved her, and she watched as he tugged the phone from his pocket, glanced at the screen and answered it. He moved away, and she wondered if he had taken the call simply to give them both some space.

April closed her eyes and felt a sudden hit of mortification—she had behaved like some idiot adolescent, had got carried away by lust in a basement gym, for heaven’s sake.

He ended the call and headed back to her.

‘I’m sorry,’ April said. ‘That was a mistake.’

‘Yes.’

Hurt twanged as he stepped closer.

‘If we decide to act on this attraction I want us both to be happy with the idea and understand the parameters—and I’d rather the setting was not here.’

Oh.

Her heart pounded her ribcage as she pondered his words. ‘So you don’t think it’s a mistake in principle?’

‘I don’t know.’ His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘What I do know is that it’s not just going to vanish, and we need to work out a way to deal with it. But not here and now.’

‘No.’ It occurred to April how late it was. ‘Shall I meet you at the office tomorrow morning?’

‘Actually, there’s been a change of plan. That’s what the call was about. Frederick and Sunita are considering possible honeymoon locations and I’m vetting them for security purposes. Tomorrow we’ll go and check out one of them.’

Great! A trip to a honeymoon resort—exactly what they needed. But maybe it was. After all, there would be plenty of people there—staff, guests, chaperones galore. How hard could it be?

‘OK. That sounds good. Where is it?’ Somehow her attempt at normal conversation had induced a false sense of calm within her, allowing her to pretend the kiss hadn’t happened.

‘In the middle of the ocean. Eden Island, to be precise. It’s about four hours from Lycander. Apparently the island was originally owned by a Greek tycoon—he built a single dwelling on it for his wife, who was an artist, and she would go there to paint. He died a few years ago and she died recently. The heir is some distant relative who can’t decide whether to sell it or turn it into a resort. In the meantime he has offered it to Frederick and Sunita.’

Single dwelling? So much for the hoped-for staff, chaperones and guests.

April gave a sideways glance at the punch bag. Perhaps she should ask Marcus if they could bring it with them.

CHAPTER EIGHT