Walk on the Wild Side. Natalie Anderson

back he kicked off his shoes and pointedly stared at the one left on her foot. She sighed but removed the darn thing, ignoring how nice the soft, warm sand felt as her toes sank into it.

      This was crazy. Totally crazy. She was at a remote beach with a complete stranger. She was in the sun.

      But it was heavenly.

      She glanced at him as he strolled easily beside her. His limp was almost imperceptible now—thank goodness. But he was grinning like a wolf who knew everything.

      ‘What?’ She pulled herself together and tried to recover her wits.

      He laughed then and she knew it was too late—she was already succumbing to the power of the environment. Even though she knew the sand flies were lining up preparing their attack, even though she could already feel the burning power of the sun. What did it matter when her lungs could fill and stretch with fresh, clean air? What did it matter when she was accompanied by a guy who was like a summer sprite—full of fun and sun and sexiness?

      The hard ball of stress wedged just above her stomach softened. The office was miles away, computers miles away, pressure miles away. Instead there was just the beautiful blue of the sea and the sky stretching as far as she could see. And the warmth under her feet and on her skin thawed the cold inside her, too.

      She walked to the edge of the water, aware that a metre or so away he’d taken a few steps into it so the waves lapped over his ankles. She turned away from him, gazing at the bronze hills behind them and then back to the deep blue but, all the while, so incredibly aware of the picture of male beauty he made. She walked alongside the edge, listening to the gentle splashes his feet made as he walked two paces to the side and behind her.

      ‘So what’s your favourite season, then?’ he asked suddenly. ‘Winter, right?’

      ‘Yes.’ She grinned at her own predictability.

      ‘Mine, too.’

      ‘No way.’ Surprised, she turned and walked backwards to look at him.

      ‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘I spend my life chasing winter.’

      She frowned. ‘But you’re so tanned.’

      He laughed. ‘Because I’m here for the summer recovering. ’ He bent and rubbed his hand over his knee. ‘This is an old injury—you didn’t do that with the car before.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘I had an operation a couple weeks ago. I’m about to go for a rehab stint in Canada. Get back into training.’

      ‘Training for what?’

      He grinned a little sheepishly. ‘I snowboard.’

      She stopped walking altogether. ‘For a living?’

      ‘Professional snowboarder. Yes.’

      ‘Seriously?’ Wow. No wonder he looked so fit. She had to stifle a giggle. She’d never got this close to a professional athlete before. ‘So.’ She coughed. ‘You’re training for the Olympics?’

      ‘The Olympics aren’t for a couple more years, there’s some other big comps before then but, yes, the Olympics are on the horizon.’

      He really was serious? ‘Have you been to other Olympics?’

      He grinned. OMG he had.

      ‘I went as a demonstration last time but at the next Olympics mine is an official event. The first gold is coming home with me,’ he said. The grin had gone—now he was utterly, utterly serious.

      And, oh, my, she believed him. ’So you go from season to season—here to Canada?’

      ‘Or France, China.’ He nodded. ‘Wherever has the best snow.’

      ‘And you work on the ski field or have sponsors or something?’

      Surprise flashed in his eyes for a second. She didn’t mean to embarrass him, but she didn’t think professional snowboarders would get paid all that much. It wasn’t exactly football and on the front page all the time.

      ‘Uh, something like that.’ He nodded. ‘You ever snowboarded?’

      She shook her head and turned back to walk along the shoreline.

      ‘Skied?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘But I thought you liked winter.’

      ‘I do.’ She wrapped her arms around her waist. ‘I like curling up in front of a fire.’

      ‘That’s what you do after the day on the slopes.’

      She mock shuddered again.

      ‘You should try it some time.’ His amusement warmed his words. ‘You’ll see I’m right. Like I’m right about this.’

      She heard a big splash and turned in time to see him kick again—sending a spray of water up, splashing the hem of her dress.

      ‘It’s not so hard, is it?’ he asked.

      ‘What?’ She looked at him, the heat deep in her belly bubbling now.

      ‘Admitting defeat.’

      She moved towards him, unthinkingly taking a step into the water. It wasn’t as cold as she’d expected. So she took another.

      Tanned, relaxed, utterly at home, he smiled at her. All confident. All successful. All gorgeous.

      And interested. She couldn’t believe it but there was no way she was misinterpreting the wickedness in his smile. No man had ever looked at her with such obvious attraction. Never a man as gorgeous as him.

      It was intoxicating—making her feel powerful and beautiful and bolder than she’d ever been in her life. All of a sudden super-vixen urges surged high. Crazy, wanton, wild feelings. And in the madness of the midday sun she let them all out.

      ‘You’ve made me wet,’ she said. Her gaze locked to his, she let him see her willingness. ‘But if you’re going to do that, you could at least do it properly.’

      His brows lifted and the splashes sounded less gentle as he walked closer. His eyes sparkled more blindingly than the reflection of the sun on the water and his smile softened to intimate. His voice was on the same wave—wonderful. ‘How wet do you want to get?’

      Excitement shot through her, stiffening every muscle. She tilted her head back so she could keep the eye contact as he came right into her space. ‘How wet can you make me?’