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

Rhys strode into the bar. Only a few seconds had passed but that could be her make-or-break advantage. And she had wanted to escape. But the bar was thick and crowded. Thankful for his superior height, he soon spotted the divine stretch of skin that was her back as she slowly threaded her way through. She was almost at the door. He barrelled through the masses, uncaring of knocking someone, hearing the glass fall. He muttered an unintelligible apology that wouldn’t have been heard anyway, given he was already three paces past. His eyes were glued to the prize. But then she was out the door. Left. She turned left.

He reached the exit and whipped his head to spot her. There. Several yards along. Even from the distance he could see she was struggling. Her hand rose to her head, fingers knotted in her hair to hold it back from her face. She seemed oblivious to the storm that threw wind and rain at her.

Humidity’s hold had been shattered, but until now Rhys hadn’t noticed either. The sound of thunder had been disguised, not by the beat of the band, but by the cacophony of their sighs and whispers in the cold store. Her song still rang in his ears, driving him to follow her. Fast. The large drops of rain pelting him were a relief, cooling his lust and anger-heated body.

Something stopped him from calling out to her. He wanted to see where she was going first. Hoped like hell she wasn’t about to disappear into a taxi—he could see the lights of one at the stand not too far ahead. Only the one vehicle. Damn.

But instead she turned, stepping through the brightly lit doorway. He read the sign in a second. A hostel. Backpacker paradise. So maybe one part of her story checked out. On the surface at least she was on holiday.

He entered in time to see her ankles disappearing up the stairs. He went to follow but the guy on Reception nobbled him.

‘Can I help you?’

‘The woman who just went past here. Slim, strawberry-blonde.’

The doorman blinked lazily.

‘She’s staying here?’ Rhys rapped out the question.

‘I can’t give out information about our customers.’

‘So she is staying?’

The bland expression remained.

‘More than one night?’

No answer again, but there was a suspicion of a wink.

Rhys savoured the slight satisfaction but it wasn’t enough. He’d get all the answers, thank you very much. Utter irritation, unquenchable desire, undeniable need to know forced his actions. ‘Got any vacancies?’

‘Dormitory or own room?’

He thought for a moment—wicked intent winning over cold curiosity. ‘Got any doubles?’

The door guy grinned. ‘Sure.’ He pulled a form and started filling it in. ‘I need name and details, how many nights you want and I need ID—passport or driver’s licence.’

Damn. He didn’t want to reveal who he was. ‘Can’t I just pay up front? Cash?’

‘We still need ID.’

Rhys deliberated for a nanosecond. Privacy was precious—but the guy on the desk was an American. He’d have no idea who he was. He’d be in the clear. Just one night—so he could find her over breakfast and ask what the hell was going on. So he handed over his driving licence. Filled in the forms. Got the key.

He finally got to go up the stairs she’d ascended ahead of him. He unlocked his room. He even had his own mini-bathroom. Not bad for a cheap-as-they-come hostel. Although he was paying the ‘premium’ rate for his own room and en suite. He wondered where she was right now. Under this roof—but in a room full of bunks or on her own? Was she thinking of him?

Hell—was she with someone else?

He rejected that idea immediately. There had been hesitation—he was sure he’d seen that in the blue sea of her eyes. She had said she didn’t usually…

What? Go for millionaire heirs? It wouldn’t be the first time some stunner had used him to bag herself a fortune. Different style from Mandy, same result. Money. Only this would be even more damaging. He’d be left with a permanent reminder of his folly—no child deserved to be brought into being purely to serve as a bargaining chip, a commodity. He had to find her and fix this.

He swore. How had he managed to lose control so entirely? Irritated, he stood for as long as he could under piping hot water. Sluicing the sweat from his body, he also rinsed his shirt while he was at it, hanging it up where it would dry quick-time. The storm had abated, the temperature would only rise again.

He thought about her parting words. Thank you. Simple. Strangely heartfelt. He hardened his own heart. He was not going to be suckered by a burning blonde. Just because she had a nice hint of vulnerability in her eyes that threatened to soften even his roughened-up skin.

But in the steam of the room, memories of their dark encounter flew at him, tormenting him. He turned the tap to cold, glanced at his watch and groaned. It was going to be a long few hours. But no way was she getting away with whatever the hell she had planned.

Although what he was going to do about it, he had no idea.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_dd1ba71c-e5a5-5919-a0b5-3a96d0376a1d)

SIENNA sat on the sand and watched the sun rise. The dawn of a new day, and a different Sienna. She chuckled at her dramatic moment. But she felt changed. And she would always thank him for it. She’d escaped the dorm as early as she could, not wanting any kind of post-mortem with Julia and Brooke. Last night was not for analysing. She’d feigned sleep when they’d stumbled back in at stupid o’clock. Really she’d lain awake almost all the remainder of the night.

She stretched out on the sand, rotating her ankles in circles. Half tempted to ease the slight stiffness with some exercises, but mostly tempted not to. Deciding to keep the gentle aches as a reminder of the most physical and intense experience of her life. Her body still felt warm and pliant from the contact with his. Still felt wet and wanting.

She’d never had a one-night stand before and she refused to regret it. She only regretted that it couldn’t be more. She grabbed her day pack. Sipped from her water bottle and pulled out her new journal. She never went anywhere without it. She’d kept one for years—had volumes locked away in a suitcase in the attic of her mother’s house. It wasn’t so much a ‘today I did x, y and z’ kind of diary, but a personal place to explore her dreams and fears. For years it had been largely fears. She’d recognised early on that she couldn’t talk to her mother, brother or even her best friend about those fears because doing so upset them. They worried about her enough. So she developed the skill to listen to others, talk but keep her own anxieties to herself.

Writing was her way of making sense of what was happening in her life. But despite the weightiness of past events, for the first time she felt unable to pen a word, let alone a sentence. She stared unseeing across the sea, flashes of the previous night filling her mind. Impossible. She could never capture that beauty in words. Unable to record what had happened, let alone how she felt about it.

She looked back down to her book, with a thinly protected heart read over the list of her life’s must-dos. The list she always wrote at the start of each year in the front of the new journal. Always hoping to cross at least one or two off in the course of the year. As the years had progressed the list had grown longer not shorter, more fanciful, humorous, outrageous.

But she’d done it. Number One could be crossed off. The one that had made her simultaneously blush and giggle as she’d written it. A joke. A fantasy. And it had been more fantastic than she’d ever imagined. Hell, she’d never imagined it could actually be a reality. Despondent, she recapped her pen. To record it would diminish it and it had been so profound, so perfect. She stared again at the water, watching the sun sparkle on the rippling waves. She wished she weren’t such a girl over this. Wished the niggle of guilt would leave her.

She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there, but she wasn’t alone any more. There were people arriving with sunscreen and shades. She should get up and get some breakfast. Face the world again. But she didn’t move—couldn’t be bothered and she sure wasn’t hungry.

She played with the sand, drawing up a handful and letting it run through her fingers. She’d feel better soon. She had so much to look forward to—this was merely a wait in the wings before her adventure. But she wished for more of last night’s adventure—more of him. She felt bad for not explaining things to him. He’d been wonderful and she’d just disappeared. It wasn’t her usual style. None of it had been her usual style—and that had been the whole point. To have been able to have it like that she’d had to leave.

She’d struggled to find her way out of the bar at first. Disoriented. Dazed. The crowd had seemed crazy. She’d forgotten other people existed. She’d felt so cocooned in that darkness. She hadn’t wanted to go. Her body had ached to lie with his, to sleep curled beside his. It had hated the fact she was walking away. It had not been what was meant to happen. They had been supposed to rest. And then do it all again.

She shook off the sand, picked up the pen again, pulling the cap off and replacing it, over and over.

‘Did you sleep well?’

She jerked her head up, dropping the pen and her jaw as she looked at the tall person towering over her.

Oh, God, it was him.

‘What—you didn’t expect to see me again?’

She snapped her journal shut, and her mouth. Stuffed the fabric-covered, hardbound book into the bottom of her bag. Bought some more time by hunting for the lid of the pen, but it was lost for ever in the sand. Hot blood burned in her cheeks. ‘Um. I…um…’

‘I didn’t sleep too well, actually, thanks for asking.’

She cleared her throat, but still couldn’t get words to come out.

‘You see, I met this girl—’

‘Rhys,’ she croaked.