The Russian's Ultimatum by Michelle Smart

that had nothing to do with the soaring temperature.
    But, when she shuffled back and got to her feet, the heat he felt under the collar of his polo shirt surged. Suddenly, now she was safe, the bikini top and shorts Emily wore came firmly onto his radar.
    Her ebony hair was piled on top of her head, ringlets spiralling, but she’d left her face free of make-up, her beauty shining through in a wholly disturbing way. And that body... Skin that looked like silk...
    As quickly as the snap of his fingers, his pulse raced anew, his blood thickening.
    There was nothing immodest about Emily’s khaki bikini; compared to the scraps of candyfloss most women of his acquaintance liked to wear, it was demure. The black shorts she wore with them were figure-hugging but modest. She wasn’t wearing anything he hadn’t seen hundreds of women wear on beaches around the world, yet she was the only one he reacted to with such force.
    Breathing slowly through his teeth, he willed away his completely inappropriate reaction to her. ‘Get your shoes on—we’re going back.’
    Dark-brown eyes narrowing, she folded her arms across her delicious chest. ‘I’ve moved away from the ledge but I’m not prepared to let you order me around any further. If you want to go back, then go ahead. I’m staying here.’
    ‘You haven’t eaten for hours. My chefs are preparing a late lunch for us. You can come back here later if you must.’
    Something sharp pierced into Emily’s chest.
    ‘Give me a sec,’ she said, looking away from him and slipping her toes into her silver sparkly flip-flops.
    Had he
really
tracked her down just to make sure she had something to eat?
    The last person to care that she ate three square meals a day had been her mother. During their daily phone calls she would always ask what Emily had eaten that day, what she was planning for her dinner...
    Shaking her head to clear it of despondency, she shrugged her rucksack over her shoulder and followed Pascha back through the trail.
    ‘So why are you still here?’ she asked after a few minutes of silence. Despite his much longer strides, he never went too far ahead. She took a swig of water. The heat within the dense canopy of trees was fast becoming insufferable.
    He ducked under an overhanging branch. ‘There’s a problem with the engine of the yacht. We need to wait for a part to be delivered from the mainland.’
    ‘How long will that take?’
    ‘It should be here by the end of the day.’
    ‘Excellent. So you’ll be leaving for Paris before the evening?’
    ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but the part needs to be installed and then checked for safety before I allow anyone to go anywhere in it. I should be able to get away in the morning, depending on what the weather’s like. There’s a tropical storm heading for the Caribbean. I won’t leave until it’s passed.’
    Emily didn’t like the sound of that. ‘Are we in its path?’
    ‘No. We’re likely only to get some high winds and rain at some point this evening, but it’s an uncertain situation...’
    Before he could finish his sentence, Emily lost her footing, practically skiing down a particularly steep incline.
    Her cheeks were crimson; the only saving grace was that she hadn’t fallen flat on her face.
    ‘Are you okay?’ Pascha asked, surefootedly hurrying to her side.
    ‘Yes, yes. No harm done.’ Feeling like the biggest fool in the world, she accepted his help, allowing his large, warm fingers to wrap around her own and pull her back to her feet.
    ‘Thank you,’ she muttered, knowing her cheeks had turned an even deeper shade of red that had nothing to do with embarrassment.
    She snatched her hand away from his, as if the action could eradicate the effects of his touch. It felt as if he’d magically heated her skin, his clasp sending tiny darts of energy zinging through her veins, making her heart pump harder.
    Pascha was still staring at her intently.
    ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ he asked