‘Many staff will fall into place once the hotel is fully operational. At the moment only essential members of the team are here...’
They had reached her cabana, which was unlocked, and he nudged the door open. For a few seconds the space was disorientating in its darkness, then he found the light switch and somehow managed to turn on the overhead light without putting her down.
The cabana was split into a large bedroom with an en-suite bathroom, an outer room which functioned as a sitting room, with comfortable chairs, a table, a television and a bamboo desk on which, he noted, she had placed her computer, and a compact kitchen area with basic facilities for making tea and coffee. There was also a fridge, which was restocked daily with water and soft drinks, and above the fridge a range of small, exquisitely hand-carved cupboards.
In one of the cupboards was a comprehensive first aid kit and Leandro deposited her gently on a sofa in the sitting area, with orders to stay seated, while he fetched it. He also got a bowl of water from the kitchen and a face towel from the bathroom. En route, he noticed the bed—the indentation of her head on the pillow, the shoes casually kicked off and lying on the ground, the clothes over the back of the chair. She might give the impression of being Miss Prim and Proper, but the air of charming disorder in the room told a different story. He spotted, in passing, a bra hooked over the cupboard handle and half smiled—because that, if anything, was the sort of undergarment he associated with her. Plain, white, simple...
‘Okay...’
‘Honestly, Leandro, this is totally unnecessary. I can handle a little cut.’
‘You’re lucky you didn’t twist your ankle. I’ll have to make sure that the routes back to the cabanas are more adequately lit.’
‘You mean for those foolhardy guests who have too much to drink?’
Her voice sounded unnaturally high, but then how could it not when he was kneeling like a supplicant at her feet, gently removing her sandal so that he could soak her injured foot in the warm water in the small basin he had managed to find in the kitchen? The feel of his hands on her skin made her tremble. Who would have imagined that such big hands could be so soft and caressing? What would it be like to have them caress her everywhere? To have them trace the contours of her naked body...every indentation?
She had to suppress a shameless urge to groan aloud just at the thought of it.
How had she ended up in this place? Engaged to a man for reasons no one should be, and stupidly drawn to another when she knew the attraction was not only futile but also sliced through every notion she had ever had about men who played around? Men who didn’t know the meaning of the word commitment? Men who ruined other people’s lives...?
But he never led them on...he never made promises he couldn’t deliver...
His words came back to her in a contradictory rush and she blocked her mind off to them.
‘Haven’t you ever been...foolhardy?’ he asked softly. ‘Had a little too much to drink? Said a few things...done a few things...that you semi-regretted in the morning?’
He looked straight at her before she had time to avert her eyes and she reddened.
‘Not that I can recall,’ she muttered uncomfortably.
Leandro sat back on his haunches with her foot still in his hand. ‘Really?’
Emily tugged her leg and he returned his attention to sorting out the cut on her foot. It was a simple matter of cleaning the wound and applying a bandage. In fact, it barely needed a bandage at all, but he was taking his time. She had, he noticed, remarkably slim ankles and beautifully shaped feet, her toenails neat and short.
‘I’ve always been a very careful person. I’m not sure I’ll be able to go on a sightseeing tour with you tomorrow, Leandro. Not with my...damaged foot... Walking will probably be difficult...’
‘Always?’
‘Sorry?’ Emily was temporarily confused.
‘You said that you’ve always been a careful person...’
He sat back and inspected his handiwork with a critically appreciative eye. Neatly bandaged, neatly cleaned.
He levered himself up and before she could protest he was sitting on the sofa next to her, depressing it with his weight, far too close to her for his liking.
‘Aren’t you a bit too young to be careful all the time?’
‘I’m just not inclined to take risks,’ Emily returned defensively.
And was her engagement part of that pattern of not taking risks? Leandro wondered. Had she decided on a safe bet? Someone who didn’t set her world alight because having her world set alight would be taking a risk, and she didn’t do risk-taking? Was that why she was so tight-lipped when it came to discussing the one thing in her life that she should have been shouting from the rooftops?
He remembered that feeling he had had—that feeling that she was aware of him, aware of him as a man...
In his head, strands of information were rearranging themselves, reconfiguring into bite-sized pieces he could deal with—bite-sized pieces that made perfect sense as soon as he began thinking laterally, as he was now doing.
She didn’t love the guy she was engaged to. When she spoke about him it was with reticence and a certain amount of caution. Maybe she liked the man, but more likely she simply saw him as a rescue package because she feared entering her thirties without a partner and he was a safe bet—someone from her childhood who had resurfaced. He didn’t challenge her, but neither did he repel her. The poor guy was probably besotted with her. She had cool, eye-catching killer looks. Doubtless he fancied himself in love and she was going along for the ride because something was better than nothing.
The thought that she might be attracted to him appealed to a part of Leandro that was instinctive and primal and intensely satisfying.
‘I don’t think your foot should come between you and a relaxing day exploring the island,’ he murmured, with a slow, lazy smile that she found vaguely disconcerting. ‘I’ve cleaned all the blood, and I’m pleased to tell you that it’s a surface cut only. In fact barely in need of a bandage. But, as a careful person, you’ll appreciate that it’s better to be safe than sorry...’
‘There’s nothing wrong with being careful.’ Emily felt drawn to justify herself. ‘You apply that to all your work dealings...’
‘Ah, but that’s where it ends.’
‘Is it? I thought you were very careful not to get too involved in your personal relationships,’ she answered with asperity, and then flushed—because what was the point in trying to resurrect barriers only to trample them underfoot the second she was drawn into a non-work-related conversation with him?
‘Touché—although I’m not sure your comparison is valid.’
‘What time do you anticipate we will be leaving in the morning for this sightseeing tour?’ Emily couldn’t meet his eyes. She could still feel the sensation of his hands on her foot and her body was still tingling from thoughts that had no place in her head. ‘If I’m up to it.’
‘You’ll be up to it.’ Leandro stood up, returned the basin to the small kitchen and then strolled to the window to gaze briefly out into the darkness before turning to face her. ‘I’ll get Antoine to prepare a picnic for us...’
‘Is that really necessary? We could always return here to the hotel...’
‘We’ll be out for the day, Emily,’ Leandro said gently. ‘Back late afternoon. It may be a small island, but there’s no rush, is there? And...’ He paused and allowed his eyes a leisurely roam. ‘Avoid the starchy clothing. Swimsuit, towel, sunblock...you won’t need any more than that...’
CHAPTER FIVE
EMILY COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time she had been on holiday. Any holiday of any kind, barring the good old and bitterly remembered days when she had still been caught up in the illusion of happy family life. When her parents had taken her abroad on expensive holidays to expensive destinations. Those didn’t count. And for the better part of her adult life...well, there had been no opportunity, no money, no time...and hardly any inclination when she thought about it.
Now, as she stood in front of the mirror and contemplated the girl staring back at her, she was disturbed to find that she felt in a holiday mood. The warmth, the salty smell of the sea, the uninterrupted sound of waves lapping against a shoreline, the lack of crowds which imposed an atmosphere of serenity and intimacy...
Sometimes it was hard to drag herself back to the reality of the situation. That she was here because of work—because she had handed in her notice—because he didn’t trust her not to fly to his competitors and divulge state secrets. Or maybe simply because it was within his power to make her stay and complete her full notice, so he would.
And as soon as she began thinking that she likewise remembered why she had handed in her notice. Because her life was about to change. Because she was going to get married. To Oliver. For reasons which were complex and cynical and somehow made her feel immeasurably sad. But when she felt herself spiralling down that road she always managed to yank herself away from the brink.