Terms Of Their Costa Rican Temptation

She slammed the floor with her free hand and let loose a curse. ‘What am I doing?’ she demanded of herself.

‘I was about to ask you the same question.’

She gasped out loud as she saw Benoit bearing down on her, his body so imposing it blocked out the sun. How could she be both relieved and terrified at the same time? Except she couldn’t quite put a name to what she was scared of.

Benoit hauled the bike off her, righted it and, putting it on its stand, checked it over for damage. He remained silent but she could see the way he clenched his jaw, the muscle flaring again and again. She didn’t have to justify herself or her actions to him, she thought defensively. Only...she had stolen his motorbike, probably damaged it, just like she’d damaged the Jeep.

Oh, God, the repair costs! She hadn’t even thought of that. She was barely covering rent, let alone the contributions to Summer’s university expenses. If they didn’t find the map and the diamonds she’d be in debt to Benoit up to her eyeballs, and her mother...

Skye bit back the sob that was about to rise in her chest.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, to Benoit and to her sisters. She’d let everyone down. She felt the hot press of tears behind her eyes and blinked desperately, hoping they wouldn’t fall. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I don’t know what—’

‘You saw the neighbour’s house and the bike and thought I’d been keeping it from you. Chérie,’ he said, finally turning to pin her with a gaze the colour of frost, ‘do you think I want you here? Do you think I like the idea of sharing these four precious days—the only days in my whole calendar year that I’m not at the beck and call of emails or meetings or contracts?’

She bit her lip to stop it from trembling. Benoit spun around but barely spared her a glance before pacing back and forth with clenched fists.

‘If I’d thought my neighbour was there I’d have taken you. If I thought there was enough gas in the tank of the bike to get us anywhere near a phone or civilisation I would have taken you. If there was

any way I could have got rid of you, Ms Soames, I swear to you I would have taken it.’

Benoit was furious. But he was also relieved not to have found her in any serious trouble. The fear and anger he’d felt when he’d found the house empty... A shiver worked its way up his spine, and only now was the tension beginning to ease. Scouring the house for any sign of her had reminded him of the way his brother had run through the house the morning after his mother had left them. The slicing pain in his heart as he’d seen the moment Xander had realised that their mother had gone and left them behind.

Something Benoit had already known since the night before.

‘Are you sure they’re not at the house?’ she whispered, making him feel bad. Which made him feel angry all over again.

‘He’s never at the house. But I can see that you don’t trust me, so come on,’ he said, ignoring the twist in his gut as he realised it was true. ‘Let’s go.’

She frowned, casting a glance over his sweat-soaked shirt and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. ‘How did you—?’

‘I ran,’ he growled forcefully, slowing his breathing, its rapid pace having nothing to do with exercise or his anger. The moment he’d seen the bike on top of her... It just didn’t bear thinking about. She ignored his hand and got up by herself, so he turned and swung a leg over the seat of the bike, pulling it to standing. ‘Get on.’

‘What?’

‘Get on. We’re wasting daylight hours and I don’t fancy another three-hour walk in the rainforest, do you?’ he asked pointedly.

Benoit held the bike in place as she tentatively stepped towards the machine she’d nearly destroyed. She was dressed in the clothes that he’d laid out for her. She’d rolled up the sleeves of the white linen shirt; the smallest one he could find was still large on her. It was tucked into the tan cargo shorts, which were cinched at the waist by the belt she’d worn previously, but the legs hung so low that they looked like culottes on her. There were a few inches of creamy, delectable calf and slender ankle on show before her tan Oxford brogues. How on earth she’d made the outfit look even remotely stylish was lost on him.

He felt her settle into the seat behind him and couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he waited until her hands were around his waist. Finally, when she’d exhausted every other option, he felt them, but she’d pushed herself as far back as she could get, which would topple them the moment they took the first corner. He reached behind him, hooked a hand behind each of her knees and tugged her against him, holding back a curse as he felt her slender thighs encase his own, the press of her breasts against his back. It wouldn’t be for long. He could control himself in the less than ten-minute ride to his neighbour’s. He had to.

He glanced at the fuel tank and prayed that they’d make it back home. He was done with trekking roads and jungle with this woman, especially when there was no whisky to make it at least a little enjoyable.

The thought reminded him of her missing jewels. The search for a map that had brought her out here in the first place. Last night it had seemed amusing, like a campfire fairy tale. But now, with the sun beating down on them and Skye’s desperation as clear as day...

Something strong and sure told him that if the map existed then Anaïs would have it, would have kept it all these years. He could recite the words she often said by heart. We have a duty to the past. A responsibility to bear for future generations to come. He felt them as if they were written on his soul, had always been.

He hadn’t worked eighty-hour weeks for nearly fifteen years just because he wanted to prove himself better than his father, or to fill the devastating sinkhole he’d made in the company’s finances. He’d done it because he’d felt the weight of the ancestors before his father. The ones who had given blood, sweat and tears for Chalendar Enterprises. Because they deserved more than his father. He’d done it for Anaïs and even now, when she was threatening to take it from him, he’d do it all over again. Because Chalendar Enterprises was the only thing in this world that—unlike people—wouldn’t let him down.

The company that in two weeks he’d have to hand over to the brother who’d betrayed him because Anäis no longer trusted him. Benoit revved the engine, momentarily forgetting his purpose until he felt Skye shift slightly behind him.

Skye, who was so desperate she had flown halfway across the world, stowed away in a stranger’s car, stolen a motorbike she clearly didn’t know how to ride...

A desperation he could use to his advantage.

Skye shielded her eyes against the rays of the sun as if that would suddenly allow her to see signs of life in a home that looked more like a prison. It was a foreboding concrete block of a house, so different to Benoit’s. Instead of sympathetically echoing the surrounding nature, it stood out like a sore thumb. Angry and out of place.

As Benoit leaned the bike on its stand she rested her hands on his shoulders to lever herself from the seat and wobbled unsteadily on aching legs before finally coming to stand on her own. No. A second look did not reveal any more signs of life, other than a red blinking light next to what looked like a security camera. Perhaps...