‘There’s nothing very private about my life at the moment!’ She threw the ball of magazine pages at his chest, amazed at the speed of his reflexes when his hand snapped out and caught it before it hit him. ‘I hope you don’t believe everything you read in that kind of publication!’
‘I prefer to form my own opinions.’
‘So? Aren’t you even going to ask me how much of that trash is true?’ she taunted. ‘Don’t you want to know all the gory little details that the story left out?’
‘Only if you want to tell me,’ he said, with just the right touch of open-minded disinterest.
She wondered whether he expected his diffidence to result in a burst of confidence. She tossed her head. ‘I don’t!’
He passed the test with flying colours.
‘In that case shall we go and try out those damned noise-making machines you booked?’ he said, settling his hat on his head and indicating the door.
‘Why on earth did you tear out the damned article anyway?’ she brooded moments later as they skirted a fallen coconut on the path.
‘Impulse...I suppose as a kind of souvenir of our meeting.’
‘You don’t ask for much class in your souvenirs, do you?’
‘You mean like toothpicks and coffee-sachets have class?’ he shot back smoothly, making her laugh.
They cut down to the beach and strolled along the satiny sand towards the jetty, skirting the early sunbathers and the odd child with a bucket and spade. Families with teenagers rather than young children or babies seemed to be predominant at the Palms, for which Rosalind was quietly thankful.
After they had picked up a couple of towels from
the hotel’s beach kiosk Rosalind veered towards the water’s edge, hopping along as she removed her canvas slip-ons so that she could swish through the gently lapping waves. Without a word Luke took possession of her drawstring bag, paralleling her on the firm sand just above the waterline, keeping his beach sandals meticulously dry. The tide was fully in, the water so clear that Rosalind could see the rocks and pieces of dead coral dotting the sandy seabed as it sloped gently away from the wide beach.
The sun was already hot, beating down on her wide-brimmed straw sunhat, making her glad of its shade mantling her shoulders, which were left bare by her halter-necked dress and bikini. There was a slight breeze—just enough to stir the palm leaves fringing the beach and gently billow out the sail of a windsurfer sketching a lazy progress across the glittering plane of the water. They would do that next, Rosalind decided, admiring the skill of the briefly clad male as he deftly changed the direction of his board.
A sea-bird wheeled overhead and further out towards the line of yachts moored across the bay a pair of snorkels broke the surface. It was a picture-perfect moment and Rosalind took a deep breath, happy to be alive.
She placed a hand on the top of her hat and gave a small skip, enjoying the feel of the silky water creaming around her ankles and the spray of lukewarm droplets smattering up over her thighs and the flirty hem of her mini-dress. She was aware of Luke’s easy, loose-limbed stride matching her brief burst of speed and glanced over to catch his eyes on her shaded face.
The white hat suited his olive complexion, she mused, and, tilted as it was on a slight angle, managed to give his face a rakish look that most women would find intriguing. In fact, each time she saw him Rosalind was obliged to reassess her opinion of his potential.
‘No more ill effects from this morning?’ he said quickly, as if to forestall any comment on his watchfulness.
But Rosalind was used to being stared at and she merely shook her head with a rueful grin. ‘Not me. Poor Olivia is probably still hung over a bowl, though. Even anti-nausea medication doesn’t work; at least, not in the recommended doses. If Jordan could buy her way out of morning sickness I think he’d be prepared to spend the entire Pendragon family fortune!’
He removed his aviator sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them on, hiding his eyes. ‘I hope not, since my livelihood depends on it.’
Rosalind was deceived by the casualness of his revelation. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I happen to work for his cousin, William.’
Rosalind nearly fell on her face in the water in midskip. ‘You work for Will—?’ she screeched inelegantly. Rosalind had dated Jordan’s cousin a couple of times but purely on a friendly welcome-to-the-family basis, for he was a businessman to his fingertips, far too conservative for her taste, and she had been too outré for his.
Luke’s stride didn’t falter. ‘For the Pendragon Corporation, yes.’
Rosalind was blown away by the coincidence. She splashed out of the water to trot after him on sandy feet. ‘Where?’
‘In Wellington.’
She shrugged off a frisson of unpleasant memory at the mention of the city. ‘I didn’t mean geographically. I meant—doing what?’
‘I coordinate the preparation of various company accounts for taxation purposes.’
Taxes. She might have known!