One Summer At The Beach: Pleasured by the Secret Millionaire / Not-So-Perfect Princess / Wedding at Pelican Beach

‘Oh. You remember my name.’

‘Of course I remember your name!’

He squatted down beside her. And she saw into his face properly. Got a shock. He was looking ferocious. Angry as hell.

She got in quickly then, words flying. ‘Look, I’m really sorry about last night.’

‘I’m not. Yet. I hope I’m not going to be.’

Confusion deepened the burn in her face.

His eyes, mainly slate, captured hers. ‘Like, in nine months time going to be sorry. The mother of all honey traps, was it?’

‘What?’ Her clammy hands covered her inferno-like flush. She grasped his implication. Nine months? As in B-A-B-Y? He thought she used him to get pregnant? As if.

‘Contraception is covered, trust me.’ She choked the words out. Marriage and children might be on most people’s list of life ambitions but they’d never be on hers. She didn’t want any child of hers living the kind of cloistered life she’d suffered and she didn’t want to commit to someone only to have to leave them too soon—as her father had left her mother.

The hardness in his eyes didn’t soften a jot. ‘It’s a dangerous game you play.’

‘I don’t. I…I really don’t do that,’ she stammered. Annoyed with her mortification. Annoyed that she felt the desperate need to defend herself against his thoughts. It shouldn’t matter. But it did. He’d been amazing. And she’d just snuck off. She wanted to slink away now. But couldn’t. He thought she was some hideous tramp?

‘I meant it when I said I didn’t usually…’ She faltered under his implacability, finally looking away. ‘I’m so embarrassed. I got carried away. It was the tequila slammers.’

‘You only had one.’

‘I had more before you arrived.’

‘Rubbish. I was watching you from the moment you walked in.’

She swallowed. Nerves stretching taut—how could she possibly explain this to him?

‘You spend all your holidays having one-nighters with people you hardly know?’ He laughed. It sounded dangerously like a snarl. ‘It wasn’t even one whole night, just a turgid hour. A quick lay and you’re off. Did you find someone else for the rest of the night?’

‘No!’ Anger settled in her. She would not have him demean their experience. OK, so she hadn’t been particularly thoughtful, but there was no need for things to turn nasty. ‘No. That’s sleazy. What we did was not sleazy.’

‘What was it, then?’

‘A beautiful memory.’

He paused at that. When he spoke again it was softer. ‘Past tense?’

She looked back to the sea, not wanting to see him and suffer the bitter temptation of something she couldn’t ever have again. ‘Past.’

There was a long silence. She hoped he’d take the hint and leave. Her heart was fraying round the edges. Was this why so many women regretted one-night stands? There really was no such thing as ‘just walk away’. Things always got complicated.

She wasn’t naïve enough to think you could fall in love with someone after a one-night stand. But she certainly cared about what he thought. Too much. It was only because he’d done something for her that no one else ever had been able to. The stars had been aligned, maybe there had been a full moon—some sort of mysterious magic? Anyhow, it was a one-off—those circumstances couldn’t be repeated.

He didn’t leave, rather he sat on the sand, stretched his legs out alongside hers.

He still had the same shirt on but it was looking rumpled. His tanned arms were tense. More stubbly shadow darkened his jaw. The cold light of day—and he was even more gorgeous. Wilder looking than last night, but that, she suspected, was because he was feeling a little wild. With her.

Fair enough.

She felt compelled to talk honestly. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again.’

He lay back, resting on his elbow, the length of his beautiful body shown off. Hers went all soft inside and she over-compensated—tensing on the outer.

‘You just ran into the night like Cinderella, only you didn’t leave me a glass slipper, you left me these.’

Mortified, she watched as he pulled her panties out of his pocket. A scrap of lace and elastic. Looking a lot like something a streetwalker would wear.

It was an effort to speak—a squeak, really. ‘Can I have them back?’

‘No.’ A half-smile quirked the corners of his mouth up. ‘I don’t think you can. Because, unlike you, for me that hour wasn’t anywhere near enough.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Last night was an appetiser. My appetite is well and truly whetted. I want you in a bed, my bed, with all the hours of darkness ahead of us.’

Colour flooded her. Top to toe. She knew it did. She could hear blood beating in her ears, feel it in her cheeks, the palms of her hands. Even her ankles were blushing—her knees. Actually blushing. And it wasn’t just embarrassment.

It was the most words he’d strung together in the short time she’d known him and she wished he hadn’t because his voice was rich and deep and she couldn’t help but listen—and be seduced. And she couldn’t help but look at his mouth as it moved and really those lips alone were seductive enough.

As for what he’d actually said…

The blush deepened. But she didn’t have a chance in succeeding a second time. She’d have to get naked—and that she didn’t want to do. She’d never forgotten the look on Neil’s face. The way he’d recoiled. Everything would change.

‘One night. What do you say? Finish off what we started.’

She melted more into the sand.

‘It was only the beginning, you know.’

If she had any kind of backbone she’d stand and walk away. But her bones weren’t there any more, there was just mush. Wanting, so badly, what she couldn’t have.

He sat up. ‘Tell you what, I think we’ve done this all round the wrong way—topsy-turvy. Back to front. Did the sex before the date. Let’s do the date now.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I’m serious. Dinner, a drink, some conversation. I think you owe me that at least.’

It was so tempting. And she did owe him. Could she even manage telling him the truth? No. She didn’t want to, didn’t want to see desire fade. She wanted to maintain the memory. Maybe, if she was careful, she could add to it just a teeny bit.

Rhys watched the conflict cross her face. She wanted to, but didn’t want to. Sitting there blushing like a schoolgirl. Apparently mortified over her wildness the previous night. Not her usual behaviour—that was for sure. You couldn’t fake a bodily reaction like that blush. Just as you couldn’t fake the fire between them.

He felt happier than the moment he learned he’d come first in his final med exams. Initial instinct had been right. It wasn’t a ruse. She had no idea who he was. She wasn’t out for a million-dollar baby. He believed her about the contraception. She’d wanted him. Still wanted him. So why the up-and-vanish act? He knew he shouldn’t be pursuing this. He was running a risk—the longer it went on, the more likely he was to be caught out. But as he sat near to her now, his body made up his mind for him, shoving the prickling doubt away with ease. He wanted to know her. Last night humour had sparkled in her eyes. She’d watched her friends flirt with the band with an unholy twinkle. He wanted in on her joke. And, OK, he’d lain awake the entire night harder than titanium, lusting after her again. He’d have her again right now if he could. But he was happy to do the conventional courting thing if that was how she wanted it this time. Given her all-over colour, he figured she wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t usually have one-night stands. So why had she? She’d been so bold. A contrary woman who had secrets. There were definitely secrets in those eyes. Rhys had secrets of his own and he was used to holding them close. But he wasn’t used to others holding theirs back from him.

He inched closer, her nearness not enough. He badly wanted to feel her hair with his fingers again—glorious colour, divine length. From the way her pulse was beating, she was not immune to his proximity. He shifted again so their legs almost brushed. He had her attention. Awareness arced between them. Why did she want to run from it? ‘You know, when I get close to you, you breathe a little faster.’