'Stop that!' she bit out, struggled to get up and found herself inches away from him, their bodies so close you couldn't get a hand between them, his face unreadable, the mirrored glasses flashing in the sunlight, the hard, passionate mouth parted- smiling or sighing?
'You're still the sexiest woman I've ever met,' he whispered, and suddenly bent his head and kissed her naked breast.
Nadine almost fainted. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move; she closed her eyes and felt the soft touch of his mouth with an intensity that made her shake.
Sean's arms went round her, his head lifted abruptly, and his mouth took hers with a burning demand that made her head spin. His body pushed against hers until she fell back and he fell with her, kissing her fiercely, hungrily, lying on top of her, their legs twining, naked bodies sensually restless as they moved against each other. Nadine wanted him so badly that she forgot everything else, all her reasons for being angry with him, for distrusting him. There was only one thing on her mind, on both their minds.
Until she heard the voices. They broke into her yielding mood, tore up the sun and silence of the afternoon.
Stiffening, she broke off the kiss, pushed Sean away and he sat up, flushed and breathing thickly, staring away from her, across the silver sands, towards the hotel gardens. Some other guests were wandering down to the beach, under the palm trees, talking and laughing.
Nadine sat up, pushed the straps of her swimsuit back into place, straightened her tumbled chestnut hair.
'Go away and leave me alone!' she hissed at Sean, who looked back at her, his mouth twisting in sardonic comprehension of her changed mood.
He didn't bother to answer; just stood up, raking back his hair, moved another lounger under the shade of the umbrella next to her and spread his towel over it before lying down, the dark glasses still firmly in place on his nose above that arrogant mouth.
Nadine hesitated between ignoring him and leaving, going back to the hotel. But that would be running away; Sean had already won their last little skirmish, and she wasn't going to let him win every battle, however much it cost her.
She lay down, hunted for her own sunglasses, put them on. She got out her Walkman, dropped in a tape of her current favourite group and opened her paperback book.
She was reading a new detective story by one of her favourite authors: it was hard to concentrate, though; the turns and twists of the plot seemed to make little sense, and she couldn't remember who all the characters were because her mind was preoccupied with other things. With Sean. With her own weak, stupid feelings for him. She kept remembering the last months of their marriage: the loneliness and bitterness she had felt. He'd so rarely been there, and when he was all they did was quarrel. She'd known he was seeing Fenella Nash, he had talked about her all the time, to everyone: friends, the Press, people he worked with. He'd been obsessed with her. He thought Fenella was the find of the century: the camera loved her, she was beautiful, she could act almost without moving a muscle. One flicker of her long black lashes and she conveyed oceans of meaning, Sean had said, smiling, and Nadine had listened, sick with jealousy.
And whenever they were alone he was edgy and irritable, picking rows over nothing, seeming eager to get away from her again. Their marriage had been in trouble long before they finally split apart, and whatever Sean might say now it had been because of him and Fenella, not because he was jealous over Jamie. She had been working with Jamie for years. Sean had never liked him much, and admittedly he had often said he wished she wouldn't work with Jamie so often, but then Sean didn't want her to work at all. He wanted her to give up modelling, he didn't see why she wanted to have a career when she was his wife—that should be enough for her. He wanted her to have his baby, start a family.
She had wanted children. One day. But she knew that once she had a baby her body would change drastically, even after the birth, even if she lost all the weight she had necessarily gained during pregnancy. Her breasts would be fuller, less firm, her stomach not so flat, she was terrified of getting stretch marks, of not being able to recover her elasticity, the suppleness and muscle-tone she had. She had seen it happen to other girls in her profession and it spelt the end for them.
>
She was getting quite old for modelling, anyway: once you were in your twenties you were on the slow slide from the top. There were always young girls coming up to get the best jobs. She had wanted to have a few more years before she had to stop but Sean wouldn't listen when she explained; he seemed to resent her career too much.
Maybe that had been the real cause of their broken marriage? she thought bleakly, closing her eyes. Maybe Fenella and Jamie had only been the excuses they used for having quarrels which were really about something else entirely. A sigh wrenched her. What was the point of this endless searching for reasons? Why keep going over the past? Their marriage was finished. She ought to be getting on with her life.
Their marriage, maybe, she thought grimly. But not, she had to face now, the way she felt about Sean. That wasn't finished. She wasn't over him. She wished to God she were. The sexual chemistry exploded between them every time he was near her. She felt it even now, when they were lying side by side on this beach, not even looking at each other let alone touching; not even alone, come to that.
There were quite a few people on the beach now; she heard them vaguely through the insistent beat of her music. There was a party of young people, not students from her class, but obviously staying in the hotel. They were bronzed and fit: she watched them running down the sand, splashing into the blue Caribbean, chucking a beach-ball high into the air from one to the other. As she watched them they became aware of her, openly staring at her curved, very female figure in the clinging jade-green swimsuit, and Nadine quickly looked away, pretended to be unaware of them.
Sean didn't, however. She picked up tension from him; he was watching the other men, his face hard, forbidding, set in silent antagonism. That was how he had always reacted when other men stared at her. He meant to scare them off—and usually did.
He did now. The tanned youngsters turned away hurriedly, and she saw them swimming out to a raft which was tethered in the sea just off the beach. Nadine almost laughed. If she hadn't been so irritated she would have done. She didn't blame them. Any sane person would run away from Sean when he looked like that. He had an air of threat, of danger: it was the brooding look in those blue eyes, the muscled power of that lean body. Even lying on a lounger on the beach he disturbed, the way a black panther disturbed when it stretched out in the sun, apparently at rest but always tensely waiting to make its kill.
The sun was now too hot for her. She shifted her position, moved into deeper shadow under the umbrella. Her book fell to the sand. She yawned, eyelids heavy, and gradually drifted off to sleep, into dreams. Dreams of Sean, of his body against her, his mouth on hers, his hands silkily exploring, making her burn and twist hungrily closer.
She woke up with a start, trembling; opened her eyes and found herself looking straight into Sean's watchful blue stare. He was lying on his side, his lounger so close that he was almost touching her. He had been watching her while she slept. Heat swept up Nadine's face. He couldn't know what she had been dreaming about, yet she blushed, as if he could, wondering anxiously if she had made any betraying movements, sounds, while she dreamt. She hadn't said anything, had she?
His intense stare made her heart begin to beat thickly, suffocatingly. She couldn't bear it. She jumped up and began to run, down to the sea, across the hot sands. The water was cool and delicious on her sun-flushed skin as she began to swim. There was nobody on the raft any more so she made for that, and climbed up on to it to rest for a moment, only to realise as she heaved herself out of the water that Sean had followed her, was close behind her.
He climbed up on to the raft too, in an effortless lunge, shaking the water from his black hair, his tanned skin glistening as he sat down beside her, his long legs dangling in the blue Caribbean, one brown, wet thigh almost touching her.
She was far too aware of that contact and that made her violently angry. She turned on him, her eyes blazing.
'Why won't you leave me alone? You're ruining my holiday, and it's the first I've had in ages. I really need this break, I'm tired after months of hard work, and when I go back I'll have to face all the stress of starting a new career, and an even more difficult one. The next year is going to be a tremendous strain. If I'm going to make a success on TV I'll need to give it everything I've got, which is why I need this holiday. I'm not asking for much—just a little peace and quiet! But I'm not getting it with you around. If you don't go, I'll have to leave! And you're wasting your time, anyway. Whatever it is you're after, you're not getting it. You and I are finished. Get that into your head!'
He had listened at first with a lazy, mocking smile, but after her first few words his face changed, tightened, reflected an anger just as great as hers.
'We aren't finished, Nadine!' he threw back at her, his voice harsh. 'Not until I say so!'
'You did say so,' she bitterly reminded him. 'We got divorced, remember!'