Rion leant over and dropped a brief kiss on her parted lips. ‘I thought you might like to have it as a keepsake.’
‘Very funny. I am never going to live this down—and if that is the surprise, I am not impressed,’ she said, but grinned and put the coin on the side table.
‘No, that is not the surprise. When you are ready meet me at the diving station.’
Round-eyed, Selina looked at the new red-trimmed black wetsuit and saw it was her size. Then she looked up at the two men standing watching her, both with broad grins on their faces.
‘I love it! Thank you.’ She stretched up and flung her arms around Rion’s neck and kissed his cheek. ‘But where did you get it from, out here in the middle of the sea?’
‘The noise you heard last night was a helicopter. I had it flown in from Cyprus.’
‘What …?’ she exclaimed, taking a step back. For Rion to go to so much trouble for her was incredible—and then another thought struck her. ‘That helicopter must have cost a fortune. With all the needy people in the world tell me you didn’t waste all that money just for a wetsuit? The old one was fine,’ she remonstrated.
‘No, of course not,’ Rion replied, and Dimitri cut in.
‘The helicopter was delivering essential supplies and more oxygen tanks. The wetsuit was just added to the list. Try it for size and then you and Rion can get a dive in—about forty-five minutes, okay?’
‘Oh, great.’ Selina grinned. ‘I don’t have to feel guilty.’
Apart from being teased by just about everyone on board about her so-called find the day before, today had been perfect, Selina thought later that evening when, wearing the blue silk dress, she joined Rion, Ted and Dimitri for dinner in the main salon.
The conversation was mostly about diving, and Dimitri made her laugh when he recounted some of his experiences as a diving instructor. Selina was surprised to learn he had known Rion since he was a boy, and had actually taught Rion’s mother Theodora, whom the yacht was named after, to dive. Selina had assumed the yacht was named after some woman Rion had known, and though she was loath to admit it she was relieved to know she was wrong.
Apparently Dimitri, who was also a qualified geologist, had worked as a diving instructor in Greece in his twenties, and then when he’d met his wife, who was South American, had moved to Brazil and started his own diving school there. It had become highly successful and now his eldest son ran it so Dimitri had the time to concentrate on exploration. He read old literature on wrecks and, using his geology skills in studying the seabed, was hoping to find some evidence of them, if not the actual wrecks.
‘So that is why you spent most of today’s dive with your camera and stopped me from picking anything up,’ Selina prompted, grinning at Rion.
‘Something like that, sweetheart,’ Rion said, with an amused smile that made the men grin.
She had no idea why. But the endearment and the tenderness she heard in his voice stole her breath away.
Later there was no thought of sleep as they lay in the big bed, naked limbs entwined, flesh on flesh, exploring and encouraging, bodies moving in perfect rhythm as they found the highest pinnacle of pleasure.
The following two days went by much the same. Rion restricted her to one dive a day, and though she never found anything significant, she didn’t mind. Much as she loved scuba-diving, she found she was also enjoying the leisure time. Usually she was an early riser—seven at the latest—but now she slept until nine or later. Whether it was the exercise, the lifestyle of sun, sea and sex, she didn’t analyse. She simply took each day as it came and was surprisingly content to do so.
But in the darkest corner of her mind a warning voice told her it was far too good to last. This casually dressed, caring and friendly Rion was not the real Rion—the ruthless business tycoon who had cut her out of his life without a word—and she was in grave danger of living in a fool’s paradise if she let herself believe otherwise.
SELINA wasn’t sure what or who had woken her and languidly she turned her head, resting her eyes on Rion. He was lying flat on his back, one long arm stretched across the top of the pillow behind her head, the other flung out across the bed, palm-up, long fingers loosely curled. His broad chest rose and fell. He was deeply asleep.
He had made wonderful love to her—slowly, tenderly, laughing, talking and teasing. She had unthinkingly commented that she had never realised a honeymoon could be such fun, and he had made amazing love to her again until, exhausted, they had slept.
Raising a hand, she lightly brushed back a lock of black hair from his brow. In sleep he looked younger, the long, thick black lashes edging his cheekbones concealing the cynical hardness that she had noticed in his eyes when they met again.
Since their first dive together, she mused, there had been no trace of hardness when her eyes met his, but an ease and humour—even gentleness. Against all the odds given their mutual past and the reason she was here, she felt as if they had developed a friendship of equals.
In the depths of the sea, moving among a myriad of aquatic life in a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes as diving buddies, it was magical. The correct signals were instinctive but almost superfluous. They were so attuned to each other—perfect partners. Over meals with the others, or amid the talk and laughter during the day, she was always conscious of the underlying sensual awareness between them. She sensed it in a light touch on her arm, saw it in a look, a certain gleam in his eyes. She knew it meant Rion always wanted to make love to her.
No, he didn’t. There was no love involved …
She tried to remind herself of that and realised it was becoming much harder for her to believe that the passion they shared was basic sex. True for Rion, yes … she had known that from the day she had seen him with those other women, heard the comments about him on video …
In a cruel moment of self-awareness she knew she could no longer fool herself that it was true for her. The ache in her heart growing with every breath she took, she stared through the darkness and finally accepted her own truth.
She loved Rion—probably always had …
Lying next to him in the vast bed, she squeezed back the tears that threatened. She had cried an ocean of tears over Rion six years ago, and she knew she had to get away before she broke down and humiliated herself by doing the same again.
Tentatively she edged away from the warmth of his big body. He wasn’t holding her, but she felt him stir and froze for an instant then moved again making sure to miss his arm across the top of her pillow. Finally she slid out of bed.
Uncaring that she was naked, she quietly fled back to her own cabin.
Selina closed the door behind her and with legs like lead crossed the room to flop face-down on the bed.
She couldn’t and wouldn’t put herself through the agony and humiliation of loving Rion again. But she felt the pressure building up inside her, the pain she was helpless to prevent, and silent tears of anguish filled her eyes before running down her pale cheeks. A low moan escaped her as she felt the salty taste of tears on her lips.
Hating her own weakness, she rubbed the tears away with a fist and rolled over onto her back. She gazed sightlessly at the ceiling, her mind churning with memories she would never forget.
Why, oh, why had she put her head in the same noose twice? she asked herself. She was not a teenager any more with a head full of romantic dreams of a soul mate, a husband, a family. She was a twenty-four-year-old career woman who had learnt more about the sordid side of life than she could ever have imagined, and in her own small way was trying to do something to improve the lives of others a lot less fortunate than her.
So