‘Off you go, Kate.’ Diana bundled her out through the door. ‘Better not go swimming, though...at least not on your own,’ she advised. ‘The beach isn’t patrolled and there’s quite an undertow. Not that it stops the surfies...or even swimmers on a calm day.’
Kate gave in, pausing only to change into a one-piece swimsuit, pulling a loose shirt over the top before grabbing her beachbag and towel, and the sketchbook she never went anywhere without. The realisation that Charlotte’s secrets were now lost—probably for ever—had cast a pall over her. Hopefully, the Queensland sun and the fresh sea air would brighten her up a bit.
A faint melancholy still clung to her as she crossed the low grassy sand dunes to the beach, though the fresh salty tang drifting up from the sea and the seeping warmth of the brilliant September sun did much to restore her spirits.
She came to a halt where the sandhills sloped down to the wide expanse of pure white sand, her gaze doing a lazy sweep of the beach. It was almost deserted... except for one lone male running along the shoreline.
She found her eyes following him...not warily, as might have been wise, but in sheer admiration. He looked like an Olympic athlete...a magnificent specimen, all rippling muscle, well-honed sinew, and smooth golden flesh that gleamed like burnished mahogany in the bright Queensland sunlight. For a startled second she thought he was stark naked, until she realised he was wearing brief swim-trunks that matched the colour of his tan.
Still watching him, she began to descend the sandy slope leading down to the beach, her feet leaving deep imprints in the soft grainy sand. As if sensing her presence, the bronzed Adonis glanced up and saw her. He waved as he loped along. She began to raise her own hand, then thought better of it and let it drop. He was a complete stranger to her, and there was nobody else around. Best not to encourage him...though it was tempting.
He kept on jogging at the same easy pace, away from her now, and she relaxed—noting at the same time that his magnificent physique was equally as stunning from behind, his massive shoulders tapering to lean hips, his powerful legs as fluid in motion as a loping jungle cat.
Her eyes followed him as the distance between them grew...and grew...until he was just a hazy outline against the pearly wash of the sunlit beach.
She found a snug little hollow at the base of the sandhills and spread out her towel on the sand. Glancing round to make sure she was still alone, she stripped off the long loose shirt covering her swimsuit—a low-backed, high-legged creation in a riot of different colours—and settled down on her towel to sunbake.
But after a few minutes she sat up again, and on an impulse reached for the sketchbook and pencil she’d brought down to the beach with her, just in case.
Just in case she saw something that inspired her.
A wicked smile curved her lips. Inspired her? That was putting it mildly!
She sketched a quick pencil outline, from memory, of the magnificently built hunk she’d seen—first a side profile, then from behind, showing his body in motion, his hand raised in a wave. His face, half turned towards her, was indistinct, due to the distance between them, so all she could give was an impression of a strong square jaw, dark eyes under heavy brows, and thick black hair, cut reasonably short...but every other detail of his impressive frame was clearly etched in her memory.
She became so absorbed in her task that she didn’t realise for a while how hot the afternoon had become, or how fiercely the sun’s rays were penetrating her lightly oiled skin, until she’d finished her sketches to her satisfaction and tossed the sketchbook down.
‘Whew! It’s hot!’ She sat for a moment, gazing longingly at the waves breaking on the shore and the glittering blue water beyond. She remembered Diana’s warning about not going swimming alone, but the water looked so inviting. And so safe.
There wasn’t a heavy surf today, which probably accounted for the absence of any surfies in the water. There were no swimmers either, but it was midweek and school term-time, and this was a secluded beach considered dangerous for swimming, as a sign above the beach warned.
There did appear to be a strong undertow sucking the swirling water back from the shoreline, but Kate was confident she could deal with it, if she didn’t go out too far. She’d always been a strong swimmer—a swimming champion, in fact, during her schooldays—which had toned and strengthened her body, despite its slender build.
So why not? Just a quick dip, to cool herself down. She’d go out no further than waist height. She needed something to relax her and cool her down after coming all the way up here during uni term to find that her reason for coming had vanished.
Having made up her mind, she jumped up and headed for the water, pausing as she reached the shoreline to glance around. There was still no one else on the beach, or anywhere in sight, and the spectacularly built jogger had disappeared, perhaps taking a shortcut across the sandhills above the beach, back to wherever he’d come from.
As a gently rolling wave crashed onto the shore and broke, she dipped her toe into the fizzing white foam swirling across the sand towards her. It felt good. Really good.
She took a step forward, and then another, picking her way through the bubbly shallows, resisting the pull of the undertow as the water surged back from the shore. She waded through the tumbling froth to waist height, then began to paddle gently, following the swell of the waves as they came, relishing the sensual coolness of the water as it flowed over her skin and streamed through her hair.
It was pure bliss...until it gradually dawned on her that she could no longer touch the bottom. As she tried to head back to shore, she realised she was making no headway, that some force was exerting pressure against her, dragging at her arms, her body, her legs.
Alarm snapped her out of her euphoria as she realised she was caught in a strong rip. She could no longer see the beach for the swell of the waves. All she could see was blue water and clear sky, the waves forcing her to struggle even harder. An icy fear gripped her.
I’m not going to make it, she thought in sudden panic, and had an agonising glimpse of her father’s face, and her mother’s, at the loss of another daughter. She couldn’t let it happen! She began to fight with all her might against the dragging current, kicking with her legs and thrashing her arms in a desperate attempt to force her way back to shore.
But she knew it was no good. She was making no headway at all, and she was tiring. Fast
Her flailing hands connected with something solid. She screamed and lashed out wildly, thinking it must be a shark.
As she blindly struck out, squeezing her eyes shut against her turbulent splashes, she felt a hard knock to her upper cheek, then heard a man’s voice rasping, ‘Don’t fight me, I’ll help you!’ as strong hands grasped her by the shoulders and swung her round.
An iron-muscled arm clamped around her from behind, across her heaving breasts, crushing her against what felt like an equally hard male body...an amazingly powerful body with massive strength, massive muscles, massive control. Even in her terror, she felt strangely safe in his arms...protected...as if she could indeed rely on this man to help her. As if she could place her life in his hands.
She went limp in his arms.
‘Good. Now...gently kick your legs,’ grated her rescuer as he struck out with his free arm, his other holding her in that vice-like grip. ‘We’ll make it if we pull together... if you don’t panic! If you’re too tired to kick, just relax and let me do the work.’
She didn’t panic. Or relax. She used her arms and legs to help as much as she could, though she had a sneaky feeling he didn’t really need her feeble attempts at assistance; he just hadn’t wanted her to fight him or try to hold him back.
Instead of fighting against the rip, he