‘No thank you, I’m fine.’ Oh, listen to me, she thought desperately. What did fine mean?
‘Fine?’ It was as though he had picked up her waveband. ‘You don’t look fine, Amy.’ He sat up suddenly, the rippling of hard compact muscles and firm flesh causing her ears to sing as the blood pounded madly through every vein. ‘You’ve lost even more weight.’ It was a very definite admonition and she flushed angrily as she lowered her eyes to the wine glass in her hand, taking a long sip of the glowing liquid that tasted of mellow, ripe fruit and warm golden days. ‘And you seem quite exhausted.’
‘We’re busy at the restaurant,’ she said quickly, her voice defensive, ‘what do you expect?’
‘I expect you to relax when you get the chance,’ he answered mildly, even as the searching intensity of his glance belied the soft tone. ‘Now we are two grown adults, Amy, not a couple of nervous fourteen-year-old virgins trying to resist the urge to experiment. Go and change and have an hour’s therapy in the sun before lunch.’
‘But you just told me to get dressed,’ she argued aggressively, her eyes angry. ‘Didn’t you?’
‘Well, now I’m telling you to get undressed.’ He studied her for a moment as she still didn’t move. ‘It’s an order, not a suggestion, Amy, and for crying out loud don’t turn everything into a major confrontation.’
‘I don’t!’ She met his gaze head on, her eyes hurt.
‘You damn well do.’ He lay back on the lounger again, his big powerful frame stretching like a sleek dangerous animal relaxing before the kill. ‘I’m not going to jump on you if you display a little of that gorgeous body, if that’s what’s worrying you.’ His voice was insultingly light and the derisive laughter that followed brought her head snapping upwards and her body tensing in protest. ‘You may imagine you are irresistible, but I assure you you’ll be perfectly safe.’
‘Too true I will,’ Amy snapped back violently through gritted teeth. ‘I shall make sure of that.’
‘Well, there’s no problem then, is there?’ he drawled with unforgivable amusement at the easy way he had provoked her into doing exactly what he wanted. ‘You’ve made it quite clear, by word of mouth and actions, that you no longer find my ardour welcome. So be it.’ He took a long sip of wine before lying back and shutting his eyes against the mid-day glare. ‘I’m devastated of course,’ he continued with dry sarcasm, ‘but I might just manage to survive. Now if you’d like to go and change after finishing that glass of wine, I’ll have another ready when you come down and we can have an hour ignoring each other before lunch. OK?’
‘You really are the most manipulating, conniving, scheming—’
‘True, true.’ He waved a languid hand in her direction. ‘But don’t waste all that precious energy that you seem in such short supply of by taxing your brain unnecessarily, my little firecracker.’
He didn’t open his eyes when she returned to the garden, this time clad in a one-piece swimming costume that seemed a little more circumspect than the very brief bikini she had bought in the Caribbean on her honeymoon and which Blade loved. She lowered herself gingerly on to the sun-lounger, reaching out for the glass of wine and drinking half of it before she realised what she had done. Nearly two glasses on an empty stomach and it was potent stuff. She felt the effects making her head swim a little. Blade only bought the best, and this particular wine was nectar. Another little ploy? she thought balefully as she glanced across at the big male body at her side. Probably. This wasn’t Blade Forbes, devoted husband any longer, this was Blade Forbes, adversary, and she had better remember it.
But he did look good. She found she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the broad muscled shoulders and powerful chest, the dark, curling body hair causing her lower stomach to tighten in response as her eyes followed its progress down into the hidden contours of his groin. He really was film star material.
The thought sparked memory of a little forgotten incident on their honeymoon when she had heard a young teenager gabbling excitedly to her friend as Blade and herself had walked down the gangplank of Blade’s friends’ fabulous yacht in the South of France.
‘That couple there, look.’ The stage whisper had easily carried to Amy’s sharp ears, although Blade was exchanging careless banter over his shoulder with his friend at the time and had been oblivious of the little scene. ‘I’m sure they must be famous, film stars or something. He’s such a hunk and she’s lovely, look at that skin and hair.’ Amy had almost turned to see who they were talking about before she caught herself in time, her cheeks flushing pink. ‘And that boat …’ The girl’s voice had been green with envy. ‘Shall we ask for their autographs? This package tour has cost us enough, we might as well make the most of it.’