Painted the Other Woman

He had known right from the first that she was beautiful, and had seen with his own eyes that her figure was perfect, but to see it all now, so gloriously displayed in only the skimpiest of coverings, veiled only by the water itself, was breath stopping.

But even as he stood and gazed he could feel conflict writhing within him. How beautiful she was—how he desired her … ?. He wanted only to catch her in a rush of diamond water and feel her body close to his. Yet, like a flicker across his synapses, seeking to block the vivid visual image before him, came a whisper of warning.

Take care. She is beautiful, yes, and you desire her—how could you not? But do not forget—do not allow yourself to forget—just why you are here. For what purpose …

Impatiently, he pushed the warning aside. There would be time for that later, when they returned to England, but for now he could set aside all that and focus only on the glorious fact that he was here with Marisa.

A sense of well-being descended on him as if from the hot, bright sun overhead. This was good—more than good. He was here, in this beautiful place, and the rest of the world with all its cares and worries, was an ocean away. This beautiful, breath-catching woman was for him—for him alone! Anticipation creamed through him.

‘This is heavenly!’ Marisa’s voice was full. She lay back, giving herself to the water, letting the buoyancy of the sea support her as she bobbed gently in the gentle swell.

The sun poured down its blessing on her, and she had to close her eyes fully against its strength. Her arms drifted out as she rested on the bosom of the sea. How long she floated she wasn’t sure, because time was drifting now, just as her body was. Until she felt two hands lightly on her shoulders, slowly starting to turn her like a starfish.

‘I don’t like to wake you, but I think, for the first time in this climate, you should probably come out now,’ Athan told her. ‘Your body feels cool, but the sun’s rays still do their work, and more, even reflected off the sea.’

Reluctantly she let her feet sink down to the soft sand and stood up. Sunlight was glancing off Athan’s tanned body, turning him to bronze, a sculpted work of a

rt. She could not tear her eyes away, and he gave her his slanting smile.

‘It’s the same for me,’ he said, his voice low, his meaning clear.

She felt her cheeks flush and dipped under the water again, making a show of smoothing out her hair as she re-emerged. She waded towards the shore and as she gained the beach could feel the sun baking down on her back.

‘Time for a shower,’ Athan said, and immediately Marisa wished he hadn’t. It conjured images that she had to banish straight away.

‘Me first,’ she said laughingly, and ran up the steps of the cabana, gaining the tiled bathroom before him.

The water sluicing down on her was not tepid and brackish, but beautifully refreshing, and she quickly gave her hair a light shampoo with the courtesy bottle provided. Feeling naked, she wrapped herself in one of the generous soft fleecy towels and emerged, wringing out her hair, and then her skimpy bikini, and wandered out on to their veranda to drape the wet bikini over the rail. It would dry fast, she knew, even in the shade.

The sun was lowering in the sky. Facing westwards, towards the sheltered Caribbean shore, the beach would be a fabulous place to watch it set, she realised. A little to the left of their cabana was a structure like a fixed palanquin, with a huge bleached canvas mattress and a matching awning. Generous cushions tumbled on the surface, and the edges turned into a kind of tabletop—to put drinks on, she reckoned.

Combing out her hair, she gazed out at the peaceful scene. She could tell there were other cabanas along the shoreline, but such was the distribution of vegetation and palms that each seemed to have its own portion of beach. It was designed, she realised, to be totally private.

Intimate.

Another of those electric flutterings skittered across her nerve endings. How would the evening end? she wondered.

But she knew—of course she knew! There could be only one way to end such an evening. Only one outcome beneath the tropical stars.

She would be in Athan’s arms … She felt her heart give a little skip, her lungs a little squeeze.

How wonderful life was! To grant her this—so idyllic a place—and such a man as Athan to experience it with.

To experience far more than this beautiful island …

With a delicious shiver of anticipation she headed indoors to get dressed. It was too early yet to change for dinner, so instead she put on one of the lovely loose fine cotton sundresses she’d bought, with narrow straps and almost ankle length. Not bothering to put on a bra—it was too hot for that!—she slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops, shook out her hair the better to dry it, and wandered into the little lounge-diner that the front of the cabana opened into.

She could hear the shower running, indicating that Athan had taken her place there, and she wandered across to the fridge set into the mahogany sideboard. She took out a carton of mango and orange juice, diluting it with chilled water before heading outdoors again. The shaded palanquin looked so inviting that she drifted in its direction, settling herself back with a comfortable sigh against the piled-up cushions.

‘So this is where you are.’ A deep voice sounded lazily behind her.

Marisa half crooked her neck and saw Athan approaching. He had changed into a pair of long cotton shorts and a pale blue short sleeved shirt, open at the neck. He looked cool, casual, and completely devastating.

He, too, had a glass in his hand.

‘It’s a little too early for a sundowner, but the moment that sun hits the deck I’m going to crack open the bottle of champagne that’s in the fridge,’ he told her with a grin. ‘Till then, it’s fruit juice only.’

‘Me too,’ she answered with a smile.