Miss Prim's Greek Island Fling

He glanced at their now empty plates and one corner of his mouth hooked up. ‘So I’ve noticed.’

‘But I want to learn to cook...um...croissants.’

His brow furrowed. ‘Why?’

Because they took a long time to make, didn’t they? The pastry needed lots of rolling out, didn’t it? Which meant, if she could trick him into helping her, he’d be safe from harm while he was rolling out pastry. ‘Because I love them.’ That was true enough. ‘But I’ve had to be strict with myself.’

‘Strict, how?’

‘I’ve made a decision—in the interests of both my waistline and my heart health—that I’m only allowed to eat croissants that I make myself.’

He leaned back and let loose with a long low whistle. ‘Wow, Squ—Audra! You really know how to let your hair down and party, huh?’

No one in all her life had ever accused her of being a party animal.

‘A holiday with reading and baking at the top of your list.’

His expression left her in no doubt what he thought about that. ‘This is supposed to be a holiday—some R & R,’ she shot back, stung. ‘I’m all go, go, go at work, but here I want time out.’

‘Boring,’ he sing-songed.

‘Relaxing,’ she countered.

‘You’ve left the recreation part out of your R & R equation. I mean, look at you. You even look...’

She had to clamp her hands around the seat of her chair to stop from leaping out of it. ‘Boring?’ she said through gritted teeth.

‘Buttoned-up. Tense. The opposite of relaxed.’

‘It’s the effect you and your love rays always seem to have on me.’

He tsk-tsked and shook his head. ‘We’re not supposed to mention the love rays, remember?’

Could she scream yet?

‘I mean, look at your hair. You have it pulled back in a bun.’

She touched a hand to her hair. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘A bun is for the boardroom, not the beach.’

She hated wearing her hair down and have it tickle her face.

‘Well, speaking of hair, you might want to visit a hairdresser yourself when you’re next in the village,’ she shot back.

‘But I visited my hairdresser only last week.’ He sent her a grin full of wickedness and sin. ‘The delectable Monique assured me this look is all the rage at the moment.’

He had a hairdresser called Monique...who was delectable? She managed to roll her eyes. ‘The too-long-for-the-boardroom-just-right-for-the-beach look?’

‘Precisely. She said the same about the stubble.’

She’d been doing her best not to notice that stubble. She was trying to keep the words dead sexy from forming in her brain.

‘What do you think?’ He ran a hand across his jawline, preening. It should’ve made him look ridiculous. Especially as he was hamming it up and trying to look ridiculous. But she found herself having to jam down on the temptation to reach across and brush her palm across it to see if it was as soft and springy as it looked.

She mentally slapped herself. ‘I think it looks...scruffy.’ In the best possible way. ‘But it probably provides good protection against the sun, which is wise in these climes.’

He simply threw his head back and laughed, not taking the slightest offence. The strain that had deepened the lines around his eyes last night had eased. And when he rose to take their dishes to the sink he moved with an easy fluidity that belied his recent injuries.

He almost died up there on that mountain.

She went cold all over.

‘Audra?’

She glanced up to find him staring at her, concern in his eyes. She shook herself. ‘What’s your definition of a good holiday, then?’

‘Here on the island?’

He’d started to wash the dishes so she rose to dry them. ‘Uh-huh, here on the island.’

‘Water sports,’ he said with relish.

‘What kind of water sports?’ Swimming and kayaking were gentle enough, but—

‘On the other side of the island is the most perfect cove for windsurfing and sailing.’

But...but he could hurt himself.

‘Throw in some water-skiing and hang-gliding and I’d call that just about the perfect holiday.’

He could kill himself! Lord, try explaining that to Rupert. ‘No way.’

He glanced at her. ‘When did you become such a scaredy-cat, Audra Russel?’

She realised he thought her ‘No way’ had been in relation to herself, which was just as well because if he realised she’d meant it for him he’d immediately go out and throw himself off the first cliff he came across simply to spite her.

And while it might be satisfying to say I told you so if he did come to grief, she had a feeling that satisfaction would be severely tempered if the words were uttered in a hospital ward...or worse.