He stood and watched her for long minutes before he made his presence known—when the three children were leaving amid tears of protest—and, as he had expected, once she caught sight of him walking towards her the shutter snapped back into place with military precision. And he couldn't believe how angry it made him.
'Had a restful afternoon?' He kept h
is voice expressionless and cool, dropping down on the lounger next to her and stretching out his body to the sun's warmth after slipping off his towelling robe, his head turned to watch her face.
'Yes, thank you,' she lied quickly.
'With those three around?' He kept the disbelief light. 'They tire me out in an hour.'
She lowered her head, allowing the mass of silky curls to hide her flushed face. 'They are nice children,' she said flatly.
'Yes, they are.' He allowed a moment's pause, his eyes evaluating the tension evident in the strained posture of her arms and legs, in the rigid neck and shoulder muscles. 'Did Madame Marat tell you their father has left?' he asked evenly. 'Ran off with another woman, I understand.'
'Yes, she mentioned it.' This was awful; she wouldn't be able to work for him with the atmosphere so tense that the air was vibrating, Josie thought miserably. She'd have to apologise. 'Luke, about this morning—'
'Forget it,' he said shortly. 'I have. That's the best thing, isn't it?'
'I guess so.' She straightened, her head turning to the smooth blue expanse of shimmering water. 'I'm going to have a swim.'
'Good idea.' He didn't follow her immediately, watching for a few minutes as she forced her body through the water at a punishing pace, as though her life depended on it.
She didn't see his fluid dive into the pool but when he surfaced just in front of her, his arms reaching out almost in the same instant to draw her to him, she was too surprised to object. 'You're too serious about your swimming,' His eyes held hers tightly, their depths metallic. 'Don't you ever have fun?'
'Yes…' Her voice was breathless, but not through vigorous exercise. The feel of that hard male body next to hers, his furry coating of body hair coarse against her softness, was making coherent thought difficult.
'Prove it.' He kissed her once, very hard on the lips, before lifting her right out of the water and throwing her some feet away into the deeper part of the pool. When she emerged, gasping and spluttering, he was there beside her, grinning at her outraged expression.
'You could have warned me.' She glared at him, her hair a mass of tight red curls on which the drops of water sat like diamonds.
'I could have…' he agreed lazily.
And there began a crazy game of tag, the likes of which Josie hadn't enjoyed since she was a child. And quite when it happened she didn't know, but by the time they emerged from the water to lie on the sun-warmed loungers she knew… beyond all reasonable doubt. She loved him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Josie must have slept in the warmth of the evening sun, but some sixth sense suddenly brought her awake to find herself staring straight into Luke's eyes where he lay propped on his lounger watching her.
She couldn't remember falling asleep; she certainly hadn't intended to as she had lain there stiff and taut, her mind exploring endless possibilities and explanations that would refute what her heart was telling her. She couldn't love him. It was madness. And besides, she didn't want to—she didn't want to love anyone, least of all Luke Hawkton. But… she did. Helplessly. And certainly hopelessly.
'Sleeping Beauty…' He smiled lazily as his eyes stroked over her face. 'There aren't many women who look more beautiful without make-up, but you are one of them.'
'Very gallant but a definite exaggeration.' She smiled as she spoke but her movements were jerky as she sat up, adjusting her bikini as she did so. The wet silk had folded in on itself a little over her thighs, and was getting dangerously near the needle-thin scar at the bottom of her stomach. Nothing could have reminded her more poignantly that any attraction between herself and Luke was doomed. She wouldn't survive a casual, light affair, but she couldn't ask for more either.
'I don't think so.' That warmth in his eyes meant nothing, she told herself brutally as she smiled again without answering, rising from the lounger and slipping into the sarong she had brought down with her then pushing her damp hair away from her face. Nothing beyond lust, anyway. 'You're retreating again.' His voice was very low and very deep, and she shivered slightly as she forced herself to look into his face. 'And after I was so magnanimous about our…disagreement before lunch, too.'
'I'm sorry?' Her voice was cool and she blessed the strength that was coming from…somewhere.
'Out therein the pool we had fun,' he said quietly. 'Didn't we?'
'Yes, but—'
'And now you're withdrawing again, going back into that steel-plated armour of yours.' There was a bite of anger in his voice that was reflected in the dark colour on his high cheekbones. 'Why? What the hell is it about me you find so hard to take anyway?'
'I don't find you hard to take, Luke,' she said carefully as her stomach lurched and spun. She needed time to convince herself that all this was just a mirage, time to persuade her heart to believe the lie that she didn't love him. She didn't need this sort of challenge right now. She should have known—she should have guessed what was happening to her weeks ago, guessed why she was so affected by him. Why hadn't she? Why on earth hadn't she? she asked herself bleakly. And it was too late now. Pandora's box had been opened.
'Sure you don't.' There was a rawness in his voice now that hit a nerve in her, causing her to flinch slightly, and, tiny though the movement was, he caught it and his rage increased. 'And don't do that either,' he ground out through clenched teeth as he too stood upright.
'Do what?' She was aware that his self-control was on a knife-edge, but quite how the sudden confrontation had erupted she wasn't sure; she only knew she had to keep calm and quiet.