Painted the Other Woman

He climbed lightly up onto the mattress, but lounged back at the far end. Marisa was grateful. It was so overwhelming, this whole experience of being here with Athan, knowing what was to come, wanting to savour ever step of the journey.

I don’t want to rush things, she thought. I want them to be perfect.

Unforgettable!

So for now it was perfect just to sit there, comfortably in her own space, with Athan unpressurised company, relaxed and carefree.

‘I can’t really believe I’m here,’ she mused. ‘It is just so unbearably gorgeous. Like being in a dream.’

‘Oh, it’s real all right.’ Athan’s voice was dryly amused.

But there was something else in it—some note she couldn’t identify. She glanced at him.

He was looking at her, but just as in his voice there was something in his eyes she could not see—as if he were holding something back from her. Then, a moment later, it was gone as he leant forward to clink glasses with her.

‘To a holiday we’ll never forget,’ he said. His eyes were warm, caressing.

‘I’ll never forget this!’ she breathed.

For the briefest second that strange, half-hidden look was back in his eyes.

‘No, you won’t,’ he agreed.

Then it was gone, and he was taking a long draft from his glass, turning his head to look out over the sea, where the sun was lowering its golden orb towards the waiting embrace of the ocean.

Just like I am waiting for Athan’s embrace … thought Marisa dreamily.

They sat half in silence, half in companionable chit-chat, listening to the warm wind soughing in the tops of the palms, the gentle susurration of the wavelets breaking on the silver shore. It was so incredibly quiet and peaceful they might have been the only people on the beach or even the island, Marisa thought.

‘Is that actually a coconut?’ she asked, her gaze drifting to the top of one of the nearby palms.

Athan gave a laugh. ‘Do you think it’s a fake one, then?’ he challenged, amused.

‘Maybe the hotel ties fake ones to the tops of the palm trees to impress the visitors,’ she responded, entering into the spirit of the banter.

‘We’ll ask one of the garden staff to get it down for us, if you like,’ Athan said. ‘You should see them climb palm trees. It’s quite ingenious—they use a short length of rope which they hook around the trunk, then use it to lever themselves up to the top—it’s quite a skill!’

‘You sound like you’ve seen it before,’ she said.

‘Well, not here,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve never been to this resort before.’

That, of course, was why he’d chosen it. He wasn’t known here, and he was unlikely to bump into anyone who knew him. Or his sister. Besides, this resort was specifically aimed at couples who wanted to get totally away from it all—including any other couples.

That was what made it so ideal a place for him to bring Marisa Milburne.

Remote, luxurious, discreet. Perfect for his intentions.

A shadow of a flicker fleeted across his face. She was so trusting of him—lounging there, sipping her juice, gazing out over the vista ahead, her pose relaxed and graceful.

Should I really do this?

The question he didn’t want to hear came from nowhere—sliding like a needle under his consciousness.

His conscience?

You’ve brought her here to make her want you instead of him.

And she did want him! Wanted him as much as he wanted her—all his senses told him so. And for that reason he crushed down his disquiet.