bathroom was circular, its walls built of rock topped by a glass ceiling that allowed a view of palm fronds against a sky of such intense blue it made her blink.
The porter noted the direction of her gaze. ‘The rocksare from the main island—from a lava flow of ancient times.’
His warmth and innate dignity brought back childhood memories and lifted her heart. If it weren’t for her unusual response to the man in the next room, she’d relish this return to the tropics.
But without Cade Peredur she wouldn’t be here.
She did her best to repress an excitement she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for years—since the debacle of her engagement to Antony. Since then, any time she’d felt an emotional rapport, she’d reminded herself that men wanted more than affection. For them—for most people—love included passion.
She’d been utterly convinced she loved Antony, and just as certain that the stirrings of sexual attraction would progress to desire.
Her mouth twisting into a painful grimace, she turned and walked back into the bedroom, thanking the porter as he left.
She’d been so wrong. Making love with Antony had been a disaster. Try as hard as she could, she’d been unable to respond. In the end, her frigidity had caused their love to wither and die in pain and bitter acrimony.
Which was why she’d been so relieved when Peter had shown no signs of wanting anything more than friendship …
And dwelling on a past she couldn’t change was fruitless and energy-sapping.
Although this exclusive, secluded retreat had probably been built with extremely wealthy honeymooners in mind, this was a business situation. If she kept that in mind and stayed utterly, coolly professional, she’d enjoy her stay in Fala’isi.
She allowed herself a single wistful glance at the aquamarine pool before unpacking her meagre allowance of clothes and indulging in a quick refreshing shower. For a few seconds she dithered, trying to decide on the most suitable garment.
Which was silly. As part of the office furniture, no one would notice what she wore. Firming her mouth, she slipped on a pair of cool, floaty trousers and a soft green shirt, combed her hair into a smooth cap and tied it back, then re-applied her only lipstick and after a deep breath walked back into the big, airy living room.
Her treacherous heart bumped at the sight of Cade, tall and dark in casual clothes, standing on the terrace. He turned before she’d taken more than a couple of steps into the room and watched her come through the huge glass doors to join him.
That cool scrutiny set every nerve twanging with eager, anticipatory, thoroughly scary awareness.
‘Everything all right?’ he asked.
‘Absolutely.’ She tore her gaze away to examine the surroundings. ‘Whoever set this place up certainly homed into the romantic ambience of the South Seas.’
Palms shaded the bamboo furniture, luxuriously upholstered in white. Impressive boulders—probably also relics of the fiery creation of the main island—skilfully contrasted with vast earthenware pots holding lushly foliaged shrubs and, a few steps away, thick white rope provided the hand-rail in the shimmering pool. Bold, brilliant flowers danced in the sun, their colours clashing with a sensuous bravura Taryn envied.
‘The Chapmans—the family who rule Fala’isi—are famous for their acumen and their commitment to excellence,’ Cade said coolly. ‘They know what people expect from a place like this.’
‘They’re also noted for steering Fala’isi so well the islanders now have the highest standard of living in the Pacific Islands. And that,’ Taryn finished, ‘is much more important.’
He gave another of those piercing looks, as though she’d startled him, and then to her surprise he nodded. ‘I agree.’
So he wasn’t as cynical and arrogant as she’d suspected.
He resumed, ‘We’ll eat lunch here, and then I have some facts I’d like you to check and validate while I
The porter noted the direction of her gaze. ‘The rocksare from the main island—from a lava flow of ancient times.’
His warmth and innate dignity brought back childhood memories and lifted her heart. If it weren’t for her unusual response to the man in the next room, she’d relish this return to the tropics.
But without Cade Peredur she wouldn’t be here.
She did her best to repress an excitement she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for years—since the debacle of her engagement to Antony. Since then, any time she’d felt an emotional rapport, she’d reminded herself that men wanted more than affection. For them—for most people—love included passion.
She’d been utterly convinced she loved Antony, and just as certain that the stirrings of sexual attraction would progress to desire.
Her mouth twisting into a painful grimace, she turned and walked back into the bedroom, thanking the porter as he left.
She’d been so wrong. Making love with Antony had been a disaster. Try as hard as she could, she’d been unable to respond. In the end, her frigidity had caused their love to wither and die in pain and bitter acrimony.
Which was why she’d been so relieved when Peter had shown no signs of wanting anything more than friendship …
And dwelling on a past she couldn’t change was fruitless and energy-sapping.
Although this exclusive, secluded retreat had probably been built with extremely wealthy honeymooners in mind, this was a business situation. If she kept that in mind and stayed utterly, coolly professional, she’d enjoy her stay in Fala’isi.
She allowed herself a single wistful glance at the aquamarine pool before unpacking her meagre allowance of clothes and indulging in a quick refreshing shower. For a few seconds she dithered, trying to decide on the most suitable garment.
Which was silly. As part of the office furniture, no one would notice what she wore. Firming her mouth, she slipped on a pair of cool, floaty trousers and a soft green shirt, combed her hair into a smooth cap and tied it back, then re-applied her only lipstick and after a deep breath walked back into the big, airy living room.
Her treacherous heart bumped at the sight of Cade, tall and dark in casual clothes, standing on the terrace. He turned before she’d taken more than a couple of steps into the room and watched her come through the huge glass doors to join him.
That cool scrutiny set every nerve twanging with eager, anticipatory, thoroughly scary awareness.
‘Everything all right?’ he asked.
‘Absolutely.’ She tore her gaze away to examine the surroundings. ‘Whoever set this place up certainly homed into the romantic ambience of the South Seas.’
Palms shaded the bamboo furniture, luxuriously upholstered in white. Impressive boulders—probably also relics of the fiery creation of the main island—skilfully contrasted with vast earthenware pots holding lushly foliaged shrubs and, a few steps away, thick white rope provided the hand-rail in the shimmering pool. Bold, brilliant flowers danced in the sun, their colours clashing with a sensuous bravura Taryn envied.
‘The Chapmans—the family who rule Fala’isi—are famous for their acumen and their commitment to excellence,’ Cade said coolly. ‘They know what people expect from a place like this.’
‘They’re also noted for steering Fala’isi so well the islanders now have the highest standard of living in the Pacific Islands. And that,’ Taryn finished, ‘is much more important.’
He gave another of those piercing looks, as though she’d startled him, and then to her surprise he nodded. ‘I agree.’
So he wasn’t as cynical and arrogant as she’d suspected.
He resumed, ‘We’ll eat lunch here, and then I have some facts I’d like you to check and validate while I
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