As she hauled herself up onto the rocks she decided acidly that when he did make up his mind to marry he’d probably choose a glamorous model or actress. After five years or so he’d divorce her and marry a nice girl from his own strata of society—whatever that was—who’d give him the required couple of children. And in his fifties he’d divorce the second wife and marry a trophy one thirty years younger.
And she wouldn’t want to be any of those wives.
That thought made her grin ironically before she slid back into the water.
Half an hour later she’d showered and reluctantly got back into her smelly shirt and shorts, emerging from the luxurious cabana to meet Cade, his muscled elegance defined by clothes that made her feel like a ragamuffin.
Only for an instant. The appreciative gaze that skimmed her bare legs did considerable damage to her composure. How on earth could he convey leashed interest with one swift glance—a glance that set her treacherous blood fizzing?
Possibly she’d misread his attitude, because his voice was coolly impersonal when he asked, ‘Would you like a drink?’
‘No, thank you,’ she said at once, squelching a pang of regret. ‘I smell of smoke and I really want to get out of these clothes.’
And could have bitten her tongue out. Would he think she’d made an unsubtle proposition? If he said something about a Freudian slip she’d have to bite back an indignant reply in case he guessed what she’d been thinking.
But he was too sophisticated to take her up on her clumsy choice of words. Not a muscle in his face moved when he said, ‘Then some other time, perhaps.’
‘That would be nice.’ Taryn thought in self-derision that platitudes were so useful for filling in awkward moments.
Then Cade’s smile hit her like a blow to her solar plexus. It turned her thoughts into chaotic, disconnected responses—all of which indicated, He is utterly gorgeous …
And he knew the effect that smile had on the opposite sex too.
Calmly, he said, ‘If you want to swim, come and do it here. Nobody is going to want to swim in the next bay for a while.’
‘I … That’s very kind of you,’ she said automatically. Yet another platitude.
Of course she wouldn’t accept. Yet some traitorous part of her couldn’t help wondering if this surprising invitation was the first step in—what?
Nothing, she thought sturdily, but heat scorched her cheeks and she hastily bent to pick up the bag containing her togs.
‘So that’s agreed,’ he said calmly.
Taryn had never met another man with his uncompromising aura of authority and controlled, potent sensuality. She preferred her male companions to be interesting and unthreatening.
Like Peter.
That memory drove the colour from her skin. She produced a meaningless smile and said, ‘Actually, it isn’t, but it’s very kind of you to offer, and I’ll probably take you up on it.’
She got into the car, frowned as the engine took a sluggish couple of moments to power, waved with one hand and drove off.
Cade watched the elderly vehicle, its persistent rattle deepening his frown. It certainly didn’t look as though she had all Peter’s money; if she did, she’d have been able to buy a brand-new car. The amount he knew for certain she’d received wasn’t enough for that.
Perhaps she was canny enough to save it.
Unfortunately, he didn’t know enough about her to make any reasonable judgement.
But that, he decided, could be dealt with. If she needed a job, he could provide her with one for long enough to find out whether she was a money-grubbing opportunist …
Taryn stopped at the top of the hill to look down into the next desolate bay. One fire engine remained there and a couple of the firemen were checking the perimeters of the burn but, although wisps of smoke still drifted up, the fire had clearly been controlled.
No little red car, either, she noted. Her frown deepened. Jason was becoming rather too pressing, a nuisance.
But not dangerous.
Unlike the man she’d just left.
Dangerous? She gave a snort and muttered, ‘He’s a businessman, for heaven’s sake.’
Tycoons Taryn had seen on television or in the news were sleek, well dressed and well manicured. The thought of them being dangerous anywhere but in the boardroom was laughable.
So what made her foolish mind fix on that word to describe Cade Peredur?
Instinct, she guessed,
And Cade had certainly looked dangerous when he was scotching those greedy tongues of flame. He’d used her wet towel like a weapon, flailing it with an economy of movement that showed great strength as well as determination.
Also, there had been something in his manner when he approached Jason that had indicated a formidable male threat—one Jason had recognised.
OK, Cade was dangerous, as any strong man could be. But he was in complete control of all that strength. And none of it was directed at her.
So she didn’t have to worry or feel intimidated.
Images of his powerful body filled her mind. Water-slicked and gleaming, every long muscle lovingly delineated, he’d stolen her breath away.
Yes, her decision to see no more of him had been the right one. She glanced down, frowning at the sight of the tight fist pressed against her heart, and let her hand drop, spreading out the fingers before shaking them so they relaxed.
Plenty of women must have felt the same surging chemistry when they set eyes on Cade Peredur. Some of them would have ended up in his bed.
‘Lots, probably,’ she said aloud to a fantail flirting its tail from a nearby bush as it kept its beady black eyes fixed on her.
Smiling, she confided, ‘Men like Cade Peredur—men who positively seethe with masculine confidence—al-ways know they’ve got what it takes to make a woman happy in bed.’
Unless she was inherently cold …
But not one of his lovers had managed to make their liaison permanent.
And when—if—she ever fell in love properly, with a man who’d understand her fear of sex and help her overcome it—she wanted permanence, a lifelong alliance like that between her parents. She wanted trust and equality and a family, laughter and commitment and security.
None of which immediately brought Cade to mind.
‘So forget about this love business,’ she told the fan-tail. ‘Because I don’t think the sort of man I want exists in this world.’
And she’d keep away from any more chance meetings with Cade Peredur. Next time she was struck by the urge to go to the beach she’d slake it with a shower. She wouldn’t have to keep it up for long; he had to have things to do and places to go—empires to run, worlds to conquer, women to overwhelm—so he’d soon leave New Zealand.
And, once he was gone, her life would return to normal. No chills, no cheap thrills when those hard blue eyes met hers, no shivering awareness of his sheer physical impact …
For several moments more she stood looking down at the blackened landscape, frowning at the ugly stain across the grass and the rank smell of incinerated vegetation.