The Secret Love-Child

'I can imagine. But you can't have it all your own way all the time. If I'm to answer such highly personal questions then I have a few of my own I want answered.'

'Fair enough.' He had nothing to hide and, frankly, was intrigued over what she might want to know. More than intrigued. Rather pleased. Maybe she didn't want him just for sex. Maybe she wanted more, whether she admitted it to herself or not.

The prospect of having a more permanent relationship with this beautiful and spirited woman brought a rush not dissimilar to sexual arousal. He'd never been entirely happy with the thought of never seeing Isabel again after this fortnight was over, but had brushed aside any qualms over the rather cold-blooded terms she had set down because he wanted her so much.

But things were different now.

If she was carrying his child, then going their separate ways was simply not on.

Rafe couldn't stop his eyes from drifting down her body, first to her breasts—his baby was going to be very happy with those!—and then to her stomach—athletically flat at this moment. But he could imagine how it would look in a few months' time, all deliciously soft and rounded.

Isabel's insides contracted when she saw the direction of Rafe's eyes. He was thinking about sex again. She could tell. The way he'd just gobbled up her cleavage, and now he was undressing her further. He was making her all hot and bothered inside again, like he had when he'd been carrying her just now.

'Now you stop that!' she snapped, and his eyes jerked up to her face.

'Stop what?'

'You know what, you disgusting man. Now help me into this darned thing.'

The runabout rocked wildly when Isabel first stepped down into it, with Isabel almost tipping into the sea. 'Maybe we should have called Tom to take us over,' she said in a panicky voice as she clutched at the sides.

'If you'd just sit down in the middle of the seat, Isabel,' Rafe pointed out calmly, 'everything would be fine.'

Isabel did just that, and everything was fine, with Rafe starting up the motor as though he'd been doing it all his life, then steering her safely back to the main beach where he eased the small craft expertly into another jetty. His confidence and competence at things marine and mechanical reminded Isabel that men like Rafe did have their uses in life, other than to give women mind-blowing climaxes.

If she kept him coming around occasionally, he could also be called upon to change light-bulbs, put new washers in leaking taps and even mow the lawn. Now that she was a home owner she'd have to do things like that from time to time.

When he climbed up onto the jetty with his back to her she ogled his body quite shamelessly, especially those tight buns, housed as they were tonight in tight black jeans.

'Now you stop that,' he said, turning and grinning down at her.

'Stop what?' she managed to counter, but her cheeks felt hot.

'You know what, you disgusting woman.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' she parried. 'Now, help me out of here, and don't let me fall in the water.'

'Might do you good. Cool you down a tad.'

Isabel decided she really couldn't let him get away with mocking her. Her glance was cool as a cucumber. 'I thought you liked me hot and wet, not cold and wet.' And she swept past him.

Rafe watched her stalk off up the jetty and smiled. She was a one all right. More sassy and sexy than any woman he'd ever met.

But he had her measure. She liked him. She didn't want to but she did. That was why she was going to such great pains to put him in his place all the time. What she didn't realise was that fate might have already propelled him out of his role as temporary lover into possibly something far more permanent. Father of her child.

Mmm. That was another thing he had to check up on. What the odds were of that.

'Where are we going for dinner exactly?' she asked him when he caught up and took her arm.

'To the Hibiscus Restaurant. This way.' He guided her along the planked walkway which connected the jetty to the main resort buildings which sat in several acres of tropical gardens just behind the beach.

Aside from the reception area, which also encompassed the island store, there was a five-star hotel nestled amongst the palms which boasted two a la carte restaurants, a buffet-style bistro, a couple of bars, a casino games room and a pool which, from the brochures, had to be seen to be believed. One of the restaurants was called the Hibiscus, named no doubt after the lovely tropical flower which grew in abundance on the island.

'I booked a table there while you were in the shower,' he told her. "The woman on the other end of the phone said it was the most romantic of the restaurants here. I gather she thought we were honeymooners.'

'And you didn't tell her we weren't,' Isabel said drily.

'Goodness, no. That way, we were assured of a good table. She said since it was a balmy night she'd give us one of the ones on the terrace overlooking the pool.'