Farewelling staff? She’d do the collection and choose the perfect gift.
Organising holiday rosters? All over it.
All over Zac, more like it. Her famed control was washed away on the tide.
He laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. ‘Lana?’
‘Hmm?’
She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know where to look. Focussing on Beth’s indigo pumps with the gold wedge heel seemed a good start.
He tipped her chin up, leaving her no option but to meet his gaze. ‘I have absolutely no control around you.’
She laughed—a brittle sound whipped away by the wind. ‘I was just thinking about control.’
His hand hesitated, his thumb brushing her jaw before he dropped it. ‘My lack of it?’
‘Mine, actually.’
She hadn’t wanted him to kiss her, hadn’t wanted him to remind her of how good it had been the first time, but since he had, she was glad. Glad he’d made her feel desirable and womanly and special for an all too brief moment.
‘You don’t have to say anything. You were trying to cheer me up. I get it.’
He let another expletive rip. ‘If you think that was a pity kiss, you’re out of your mind.’
Out of her mind, all right. Out of her mind with wanting him to do it again and again and again.
‘It wasn’t?’
Shaking his head, he cradled her face, forcing her to look him in the eyes. ‘You have no idea what you do to me.’
Flicking her tongue out to dampen her swollen lips, she said, ‘I think I have some idea.’
Her wry response garnered a smile. ‘I thought you were immune to my charm?’
‘There’s no vaccination strong enough against you, it seems.’
They grinned at each other like a couple of starstruck adolescents, the brisk ocean breeze buffeting them, pushing her towards him in an act from the heavens.
She’d usually flee—find a quiet place and dwell on why he kept chasing her when she wasn’t remotely chaseworthy.
Though she didn’t run at work; there she solved problems, enjoyed the challenge. Just ask her colleagues where she could be found: at the museum at all hours, tracking down the newest discovery, ensuring the latest display was eye-catching, cataloguing the backlog no one else wanted to do.
Thinking of the museum did it: she wasn’t some femme fatale who went around inviting kisses from charming sailors on a moonlit night. She was career-focussed, with an aim to reach the top of her field with a little more confidence. She should know better than to read anything into a few casual kisses and his wanting to date her—whatever that meant.
She might be inexperienced with men, but she was old enough to understand the purely chemical reaction when two people remotely attracted to each other flirted a little and that flirtation got out of hand.
‘You’re driving me to distraction.’ He ran a hand through his hair for the second time in as many minutes, more rattled than she’d ever seen him. ‘And, considering the job I have to do this trip, I can’t afford any distraction.’
‘And you’re telling me this because… ?’
He leaned forward, wound a strand of her hair around his forefinger and tugged gently. ‘Because, despite every logical reason why I shouldn’t do this, I’m struggling to keep my hands off you.’
‘Oh.’
The wine she’d consumed at dinner sloshed around her stomach, rocking and rolling in time with her pounding heart as he tugged harder, bringing her lips centimetres from his before brushing a soft, barely-there kiss across her mouth. It was a tender kiss, at complete odds with the passionate exploding kisses they’d previously shared, a heartrending kiss that reached down to her soul despite her intentions to ward it off.
When they broke apart she couldn’t fathom the expres-sion on his face, the shifting shadows in his eyes.
‘I have to go check on that fax.’
‘Right.’
‘Stay out of trouble.’
With a brief touch on her cheek he was gone, leaving her thoroughly confused.
Within the space of an hour he’d comforted her, kissed her, and apparently dated her.
And what was that ‘trouble’ crack about? She’d never been in trouble in her life: the model student who studied hard and didn’t party, the diligent worker first in of a morning, last to lock up at night. Good old dependable Lana. Reliable, steadfast, earnest Lana. Which was exactly why she was here, trying to build her self-esteem and convince herself a sexy sailor could just be the way to go about it.
He’d been nothing but honest about wanting her, so why the sudden scram? One minute his kiss had been warm and gentle and caring, the next he’d made a run for it.
Ironic, considering she hadn’t run for once. She’d embraced her newfound bravery and stayed, even after that scintillating kiss that normally would have sent her scurrying for cover.
But she was done with running.
If she couldn’t handle a healthy dose of honesty—something he’d just given her, even if the truth of how much he wanted her scared the hell out of her—how could she hope to become the poised, confident woman she needed to be at work?
She mightn’t be able to give him what he wanted—would probably disappoint him if she did—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t lighten up a bit and actually enjoy his attention.
If she was really brave, she might even have a little fun along the way.
LANA spied Zac at the end of the gangway and sighed in relief. After he’d run out on her last night she’d had her doubts about him showing up today. Crazy, considering she was the one who’d usually contemplate a no-show rather than worrying about him doing it.
Beyond impressive in uniform, today he was casually cool in black board shorts, a funky printed T-shirt and a peaked cap, with aviator sunglasses shading his eyes. She wished she could see those eyes, read them, get a feel for his mood after last night.
She hadn’t heard from him, hadn’t seen him this morning, and while she was relieved, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder what he had planned for today.
If last night’s ‘date’ hadn’t exactly happened, maybe he had other ideas today?
Taking a deep breath, she headed down the gangway, half of her looking forward to the tour of Suva, the other half looking forward to seeing how far her confidence extended.
‘I thought you’d stood me up.’
Tipping her head forward, she looked at him over the top of her sunglasses. ‘Why would I do that? I’ve been looking forward to your tour.’
‘I’m very good, you know.’
‘Ever heard the phrase “self-praise is no praise”?’
He grinned and gestured to a small four-wheel drive parked nearby. ‘Come on, I have a car waiting for us.’ He bowed low. ‘Your chariot awaits, madam.’ He pulled off his cap with a flourish.
‘You’re going to drive?’
She glanced at the chaotic scene on the dock, where cars darted between pedestrians and street vendors, and horns honked constantly as people jumped out of the way of moving vehicles in haphazard fashion.
He