Terms Of Their Costa Rican Temptation

She found her bag in the corner of the room where she’d dropped it yesterday, beside another shirt and a pair of lightweight trousers she hadn’t seen yesterday. She’d have expected to feel outraged at the idea of Benoit in her room while she slept, but the image of him looking down on her while she’d been unaware... She shut down her errant thoughts.

This was a man who was trying to coerce her into a marriage she didn’t want.

As she showered, she realised it didn’t matter. Even if he wanted her to stay with him in France and never set foot back in England, even if she never saw her sisters again, Skye knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would do anything if it meant her mother would get the treatment she needed. If it helped the girls to find the jewels that would also secure their futures.

Even marry a complete stranger.

Only Benoit didn’t really feel like a stranger. The only thing that had seemed strange about him was how cold he had become the night before. It was as if telling her about his ex-fiancée, about his brother, had drawn all the warmth from him. And she couldn’t help the part of her that wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Because he was the man who had dismissed thousands of pounds in damages, who had been worried about her when she’d disappeared with his bike, who had been almost distraught at the idea she might have eaten meat on his account. And he was also a man who was clearly devastated by the hurt caused by his brother two years ago.

Dressed in the clothes that Benoit had left and the set of clean underwear she always carried in her hand luggage whenever she travelled, Skye followed the scent of coffee all the way to the patio outside.

Benoit was sitting in the same chair as the night before and if he wasn’t wearing different clothes she might have thought he hadn’t moved. His eyes were closed, his face turned up towards the sky and the sun. He seemed truly relaxed for the first time since she’d met him. There were slight crinkles around his eyes, but not as if he spent a lot of time laughing; rather that he spent a lot of time squinting—as if suspicious, or calculating.

The short beard was getting a little thicker, tempting her to wonder what it would feel like beneath her fingers. Soft? Rough? The way it framed his bottom lip, the full flesh casting a shadow from where it crested seemed carelessly sensual.

‘Do you want some coffee?’

Skye jumped and couldn’t help the cry of laughter that escaped at her own silly reaction. Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt tingles running all over her skin in relief as the spike of adrenaline crashed out of her system.

‘You scared me,’ she accused, taking the seat opposite Benoit, who still hadn’t opened his eyes.

‘You shouldn’t sneak up on people.’

‘I wasn’t the one sneaking around.’

He opened one eye and peered at her. She gestured to her clothing, which she instantly regretted because the heat that burned beneath the places where his gaze raked was indecent.

‘Would you rather have gone about naked? Or, worse, in yesterday’s clothes?’ he queried.

‘I’m not sure you have that in the right order.’

He shrugged as if he didn’t agree with her.

Despite having rolled up the dark blue linen trousers, the material kept unwinding to fall about her feet. But they were cool in this humid heat and, as Benoit pointed out, clean. She’d used her belt again to hold them in place, but somehow doing so had made her think about him, about the way his torso tapered down...

‘Terms,’ she said out loud, startling them both. ‘We need terms,’ she reaffirmed.

‘So you agree? To the deal?’

‘On one condition.’

‘Yes?’

He’d nearly said, Name it, but that would have told her how much he needed her to agree. He hadn’t realised how unsure he’d been of her answer. The night before, memories of the past had made him overly harsh and some alien inner voice told him to stop now before it was too late. But a darker one was already relishing victory.

Skye Soames was too sweet for this. She’d probably already rationalised his behaviour, finding some reason to justify his ruthlessness. But he had given her fair warning. Selfishness will always win out.

‘I get the map first.’ Skye’s demand cut through his thoughts.

‘No.’

‘Yes. I have time constraints.’

‘Which are...?’

‘Immediate,’ she replied, not answering his question as he’d have liked, nor meeting his eye. She clearly didn’t like being evasive. He could use that.

‘How immediate?’