‘Where did you learn to sail?’ Hunter asked, settling her more comfortably into the curve of his arm.
‘My father was a sailor. He encouraged me, and later on I joined our local sailing club,’ she explained, trying not to be so vitally aware of his strong body pressed along the length of hers. But it was impossible. Little fires flickered into life all through her, and she wanted nothing more than to turn and press herself closer, to explore the flats and planes his clothes only hinted at.
‘Why did you take up modelling?’ Ever so gently his free hand began caressing a line up and down her arm.
Reba recalled the reason with a twist of her heart. She wanted to explain, but her mother preferred to keep her illness a secret within the family. Although she knew Hunter was trustworthy, she still couldn’t break her promise. ‘I didn’t intend to, but a friend told me I could make a lot of money at it, so I changed my mind.’ It was the truth, as far as it went.
Hunter’s hand left her arm to go to her chin and raise it so that he could see her face. He was frowning. ‘Is it so important to make a lot of money?’
She shrugged, trying to make light of it. ‘Of course, if you don’t have any. Only the rich can say money isn’t important, and that’s because they have more than enough for their needs.’ Her eyes clouded over. ‘Sometimes our needs are bigger than our pockets.’
‘Mmm, you may be right,’ he conceded, then, in an abrupt change of mood, set his glass down and relieved her of her own. Getting to his feet, he held out his hand. ‘Dance with me.’
Bemused, she automatically allowed him to pull her up and into his arms. ‘There isn’t any music,’ she protested as he slowly began to move.
‘Sure there is. Just close your eyes and listen,’ Hunter argued, pulling her closer until there was no air between them. They fitted as if they had been made two halves of a whole, and as her head came to rest on his shoulder, eyes closing, she began to hear the music.
Her free hand travelled up to his nape, fingers curling into the thickness of his hair. She could feel his lips on her own hair, slowly fanning downwards to her eye and her cheek, and it was simplicity itself to raise her head the fraction needed for their lips to meet. She heard music of a different kind then, at the first gentle caress. He sipped at her, tasting her sweetness, and her lips softened, moving to his command, parting at the silken glide of his tongue.
Everything vanished. There was only this exquisite sensation, the gentle exploration slowly building up a powerful need to act and not just react. Her tongue moved, touching his, and the sensation was electric. She gasped, pressing closer, boldly seeking more and more as his kiss became increasingly demanding. They fed off each other, and what had started so gently soon became a conflagration.
Reba had never experienced anything like it. Nobody had ever made her feel like this, arousing a need that throbbed inside her. As his hands found their way beneath her T-shirt her legs very nearly gave out. His touch was scorching her. She was going up in flames! And yet she wanted to burn. She wanted to feel his hands on her body, and she wanted to explore him the same way. The first brush of his thumbs along the swell of her breasts brought a whimper of the purest pleasure to her lips, and when he finally cupped her bounty, stroking her nipples into aching buds, she shuddered and her head fell back helplessly as she arched towards him.
‘Hunter!’ His name was an ache of need. She had no doubts, no fears. She gladly gave herself over to him, trusting him implicitly not to hurt her. Anything he wanted, she wanted. He was the lover she had dreamt of. He would take her to the heights and keep her safe. She loved him.
‘No!’ Hunter drew his hands away, and her drugged brain registered that they were trembling as he smoothed her T-shirt back down. Gazing into her bewildered eyes, he smiled crookedly. ‘No, Reba. This is too fast. God knows, I want you, but I want to get to know you first. I want us to go slowly, savour everything, not rush on as if there were no tomorrow. When we finally make love it will be all the better for waiting, I promise.’
Reba felt choked. She had been importuned all her adult life by men who wanted only one thing from her, and now here was the one man she would gladly have given herself to, with no regrets, saying they should wait. It made her feel cherished, and she knew he really cared for her.
Her eyes glittered brightly with tears that knew nothing of pain. ‘All right,’ she agreed, and sighed as his arms closed around her. ‘After all, we’ve got all the time in the world.’
THE ten days which followed became a period of time Reba would never forget. Even in her darkest moments, they would hold a warmth and brilliance that could never be dimmed. It was a time of discovery, as much about herself as about Hunter. She discovered what it was like to be truly happy. The fact that that happiness was totally bound up with another person didn’t worry her, because she knew that what was true for her was true for him also.
Outside work, they became virtually inseparable. At first she was teased unmercifully, but when it became apparent that there was more here than just a passing flirtation, the company grew silent, watching the romance unfolding before them with equal measures of warmth and envy.
Apart from a shared love of sailing, which they indulged almost every day, sailing a short way round the island at evening to have dinner in their own private cove, they also discovered an equal love and concern for nature. They held long discussions on the way natural habitats were being destroyed, and what they could do to put the world right. Other times they took long walks along the silver beaches, or went inland, where Hunter introduced her to the joys of bird-watching.
They spent every available hour together, exploring the island and enjoying each other’s company. To an outsider it might have looked platonic, but they were fully aware that underlying everything was that banked-down passion. Reba found it added spice to everything they did. It was something special to wait for, to savour, and their goodnight kisses were a pleasurable torture. She knew, beyond any doubt, that she loved him, and was as certain as she could be that he loved her. He didn’t have to say it. He had a way of being able to tell her with the briefest of touches, or just a look or smile. He made her heart sing.
Yet the banked fires in his eyes made her shiver in anticipation. His control was awesome, all the more so when, as the days passed, hers became less and less in evidence. Her dreams became extremely erotic as she fantasised about what would happen when that control finally snapped.
She found out in a rush when the shoot on the yacht ended. Their next location was to be up in the hills somewhere, near a waterfall. A week there, and then the assignment was over. For the first time Reba became uncertain. Hunter had to know the assignment wouldn’t last forever, and yet he had said nothing. She had made tentative arrangements to remain behind, though not at the hotel. She had hoped she could persuade Hunter to allow her to stay on the yacht, but his silence made her hesitate to ask.
Perhaps she would broach the subject tonight, she thought, as she showered and changed into a brilliantly hued sarong she had picked up in the market. As had become habit, she had stayed on board when the others left, and was just gathering everything up into her bag when the door behind her crashed open. She spun round in alarm, finding Hunter advancing on her with a thunderous face.
‘So!’ He snatched the bag from her hands and emptied it out again on the bunk. ‘You are leaving! Just when were you going to tell me, Reba?’ he demanded, in a voice which threatened to topple small mountains.
Her mouth dropped open in sheer surprise. ‘What?’
She could have sworn that she heard his teeth grind. ‘Don’t give me that. I’ve just spent