Cracking the Dating Code (6 page)

Poppy leaned down, hands on her knees until she spotted half an eye and then she spoke.

‘He kissed me, gecko. No one has ever kissed me like that before. It was…’

The gecko’s nose twitched. A little more eye appeared. Not much, but it was all the encouragement Poppy needed. ‘It was breathtaking. I almost melted in a puddle at his feet. It was very disconcerting.’

Two eyes now. This gecko was definitely into girl talk. ‘I know,’ said Poppy solemnly. ‘He’s going to have to do it again.’

S
EBASTIAN’S
day began with a swim and a cup of strong black coffee back at the house. The house stood quiet and empty but for him, and it made him restless, more restless than usual.

Far be it for Seb to admit that he was waiting for Poppy to arrive.

Or that while he waited he turned over in his mind the events of last night.

He’d started it, he knew that much.

He’d finished it too, but only after Poppy had turned to a statue in his arms. If she hadn’t stopped, he probably wouldn’t have either. They’d have woken together, he’d have brought her some coffee and maybe made love to her again. He’d have made sure they were both sated and satisfied and these next few days could have been made quite pleasurable, and then she’d have gone on her way, no damage done.

That was how it should have played. Could have played.

And hadn’t.

Innocence or caution? Or something else entirely? That was the question plaguing Seb this morning, along with another that asked why did he care?

She wasn’t his type. Too timid and too plain.

His brother called her mouse.

And then a graceful, slender woman opened his back door without knocking, her toffee-tendrilled hair caught back in a thick ponytail and her cornflower-blue eyes framed by silky brown lashes. Poppy met his gaze and all thoughts, plain or otherwise, fled before Seb’s wild and brutal hunger.

‘Coffee’s hot,’ he offered gruffly as she glanced longingly towards the hallway that led to the bat cave. No way. He wasn’t letting her off that easily. ‘Strong and black with one, right?’

‘Right.’ She squared her shoulders and headed towards him. ‘About last night…’

‘What about it?’

‘It occurred to me that I may have been sending mixed messages,’ she said. ‘And I wanted to thank you for your restraint.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘You’re quite the gentleman.’ She waved a hand in the direction of Seb’s good self. ‘Underneath.’

‘Underneath what?’

‘The recklessness.’

‘Poppy,’ he said as evenly as he could. ‘About those mixed messages. You’re still sending them.’

‘Oh.’ She looked disconcerted. ‘Maybe I should just forget the coffee and start in on the work.’

But he’d already poured it for her. He dumped a spoonful of sugar in it and slid it across the counter towards her, spoon and all. ‘Take it with you.’

Hospitable, that was him. Gentleman host. As for being reckless…he’d been working on curtailing that particular tendency for quite some time now.

The word
caution
had entered his vocabulary.

Recent lessons involving recklessness and caution had been etched on his soul.

Not so reckless after all, because when she retrieved her coffee with a quick smile and a thank-you and then headed for the hallway, he let her go.

Don’t touch. Don’t break it.
Seb ran a hand through his hair. His hair needed cutting.

Work he’d been avoiding needed doing but he made no move towards his office.

Later.

Poppy spent a frustrating day at the computer. Lunch came and went with no Seb to interrupt her. The afternoon rolled by with no progress made when it came to cracking code. Poppy made her way to the kitchen around four. No Seb, but an Esky sat on the bench with a note from him saying that dinner was in it. He made a much better host than she made a house guest. As for flirting and kissing, she had a sinking feeling that he’d decided against continuing along those lines with her.

Hard to blame him, given the mixed messages he’d already chipped her about. Welcome a kiss from him one minute and freeze on him the next? Hide from him all day and then expect him to entertain her the minute she’d gathered enough courage to go and seek him out?

Chances were he wasn’t that much of a sucker for punishment.

Poppy took the Esky back to the guest house and put the food in the fridge for later. She stood staring at the ocean for a good five minutes and then, with a curse, she got back
on the quad and headed downhill, towards the cove where she’d found Seb yesterday.

Not looking for him, not really.

Good thing, too, because he wasn’t there.

Poppy walked from one end of the little crescent beach to the other, and when that did not suffice, she rolled up her trousers and waded up to her knees in the water and watched the black-tipped reef sharks flick about on the outer coral reefs.

Oh, the bravery.

Sick of herself and her timidity and all the risks she
hadn’t
taken over the years, she gazed wistfully out over the shallows towards the nearest cluster of underwater coral.

‘Coming in?’

Seb’s voice, coming from somewhere behind her, and she turned her head and there he was. Board shorts. Snorkel dangling from his hand. Ready to swim. Snorkel. Ready to seize life and wring from it every drop of pleasure that he could.

‘No.’

‘Shark issues?’ He looked towards the outer shallows. ‘I’ll play spotter for you if you like.’

‘Kind of you, but no,’ she murmured. ‘I didn’t bring any bathers.’

‘And we’re caring about that? You’re already half wet. Swim in your clothes.’

Poppy looked towards the closest coral bombie again. It wasn’t that far away. Twenty metres? And the water around it looked shallow. ‘What’s the tide doing?’

‘It’s on the turn.’

‘In or out?’

‘In.’

In was good. ‘Are there any rips?’

‘There’s current around the edges of the cove but nothing serious. C’mon.’ He held out his hand. ‘You know you want to. I’ll keep you company. I’ll even lend you my snorkel.’

Poppy smiled faintly. ‘What a host.’

‘I know,’ he murmured and held out his hand. ‘You can’t come to a sub-tropical island paradise and not swim.’

He didn’t know her very well. But the ocean spread out before her, glasslike and beckoning, and several days’ worth of unsuccessful code cracking pushed at her from behind, along with her abysmal failure when it came to flirting and kissing with a man who set her aflame.

Surely she could own one small personal victory today? A dip in the ocean. The conquering of a long-held fear. Proof positive
that she was making an effort not to be the mouse others believed her to be.

Poppy stepped forward, into deeper water, and found herself up to her waist. Elbows up, the water around that coral outcrop would be deeper than it looked.

And then Seb took her hand in his and coaxed her out further. Neck deep in it now, he turned towards her and smiled. Poppy’s fingers tightened around his, not clutching at him but close.

‘Where do you want to go?’ he asked.

‘To the coral,’ she said, and tried not to tremble.

‘You want me to tow you? Or would you rather swim?’

‘Swim.’ She could swim. In a pool.

Her heart thudded against her ribcage as she let go of his hand and breaststroked her way towards the coral. Smooth strokes; she
liked
the act of swimming. In a pool.

Seb stayed beside her, matching his speed to hers, his snorkelling gear looped around his arm. Twenty metres. Twenty metres to the first coral cluster, and she couldn’t touch bottom but Seb was there saying, ‘Grab my shoulders,’ and, ‘Now get your head wet,’ and then handing her the mask and snorkel. ‘Ever snorkelled before?’

‘No. I—’

‘Let me know if you don’t like it, but you have to give it a try. If you stay on the surface you’ll be able to breathe normally through the mouth piece. If you dive you’ll have to clear the snorkel of water when you surface. You clear it by pushing air through it, short and sharp. That’s it. That’s all there is to it. I’ll hold your waist while you put it on.’

‘Seb, I—’

‘C’mon, Poppy. In the grand scheme of risk-taking ventures, this isn’t one.’

Maybe not for
him.
But she took the mask and snorkel and put it on and that took care of any talking on her part.

‘Head in the water, Poppy, while I adjust the angle of the snorkel for you. That’s got it. Keep hold of my shoulder if you want to. Grab me whenever you feel the need—I won’t mind. And let me show you why I bought this island in the first place.’

The coral came in colours and the colours were green, purple and blue. The fish came in colours too. Bright, daffodil-yellow fish no longer than her finger, black-and-white-striped fish with tiny snub noses. Fish that looked like goldfish, darting in and out of the coral. Silver fish with lilac tails. Poppy jerked
her head out of the water, spat the snorkel from her mouth and gasped for air.

‘Close, but not quite,’ said Seb dryly. ‘Now put the snorkel back in and breathe through it—I guarantee you’ll get air.’ He waited until she had the mouthpiece back in. ‘Just close your lips around it. Is it working?’

Poppy nodded.

‘Now look again. And this time don’t forget to breathe.’

They looked again and this time Seb grabbed her hand and propelled Poppy forward.

He pointed to a rock on the sandy surface, but it was just a rock, not nearly as colourful as the fish. He squeezed her hand and let it go and dived down to touch the rock, only it wasn’t a rock at all but a turtle, who went on its way with a grace and offended dignity that made Poppy want to smile.

Seb showed her sea urchins and sea cucumbers, the rolling pattern of clam-lips and the delicacy of orange coral fans.

They went from coral bombie to coral bombie and each one held a secret beauty and the water around it played a clear and vivid blue.

Poppy grew braver in the face of Seb’s expert tutelage. She dived down with him
and held her breath while they explored. He touched her often and his touch worked magic and when finally they surfaced for a proper breather Poppy didn’t realise at first that they were well into the outer waters of the cove.

The moment she did, she was in Seb’s arms, clinging limpet-like to whatever sun-bronzed surface she could find.

‘I don’t suppose this is a thank-you for showing you the reef?’ he asked mildly.

‘No.’ A shudder ripped through her and Seb’s arms came around her, holding her close.

‘Didn’t think so. Have we got a shark problem?’

Who knew? But he was going to have a terrified Poppy problem on his hands very soon if they didn’t reach the shore soon. ‘It’s mostly a Poppy problem at the moment,’ she said politely, and increased her stranglehold around his neck.

‘Ah.’ Thank heaven he remained calm. ‘You ready to go back?’

Past ready. Poppy nodded.

‘Is distracting you with coral going to work again this time?’

‘No.’

‘How about kissing you? Dragging you against me?’

‘You could, and I’d let you. It’s not my biggest problem at the moment.’

‘Good to know.’ Seb’s smile was reassuring rather than predatory. ‘C’mon, Ophelia. Loosen up the stronghold and let’s get you back to shore. You want a tow or are you going to swim?’

Tempting, so tempting just to say
get me out of here
and leave him to take care of the details, but Poppy could swim, she swam quite well when fear wasn’t paralysing her. Lap after lap in friendly gym pools. She could do this.

‘Swim,’ she said faintly.

‘Good girl.’ He lifted his hands to her wrists and gently drew her hands from around his neck and put them on his shoulders instead. His hands to her waist after that, sliding down over her bottom and around to her thighs, gentle but firm as he urged her to unwrap her legs from around him too.

He kicked off with an easy side stroke, so smooth and obviously comfortable in the water. Side stroke for him and breaststroke for her, first with one hand on his shoulder and then both hands in the water and her gaze fixed on the shore.

They reached it soon enough and Poppy emerged, dripping wet and trembling, not meeting Seb’s gaze until he shoved a towel under her nose and forced the issue.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘For everything.’

‘You swim well, Poppy. Very well. Want to tell me what the panic attack was all about?’ he asked quietly, and his eyes weren’t condemning, just curious.

Poppy buried her face in the towel and wiped it dry and then handed it back to him. He took it but he didn’t use it. Just wrapped it round her shoulders, dripping wet clothes and all.

‘I got caught in a rip once when I was a kid,’ she began with a shrug. ‘My brother too. We got free of it eventually but by then we were a long way out to sea.’ She glanced towards the open ocean. Been there, feared it. ‘A long way out.’

‘Your brother still here?’

‘What?’ And then it twigged that he thought this story had a tragic ending rather than a happy one. ‘Yes. Damon’s still here, and unlike me he still loves the ocean. Dares it to swallow him every chance he gets. Me, I’ve just stayed scared of it. Scared of drowning. Scared of being so tired and disoriented
out there that it becomes easier all around to just…’ She let a gently sloping hand finish the sentence for her.

‘Just what?’

He was going to make her say it.

She’d lain face up in the water that day and felt the call of the deep seep inexorably into her bones. Its siren song and its restfulness; just sink, sink and you’ll be fine. You’ll be mine.

‘Just give up,’ she said quietly.

‘But you didn’t.’

‘No. It was a win, I guess. It just didn’t feel like one at the time.’

‘How old were you?’ he murmured.

‘Eight. My brother was seven. You’d like him, I suspect. I dare say he’d like you.’

Seb’s eyebrows rose a fraction and Poppy summoned a faint smile. ‘In a strictly platonic, adrenaline-junkies-of-the-world-unite kind of way.’ She glanced towards the water once more. ‘I haven’t swum in the ocean for years. I guess I could call swimming and snorkelling with you just now another victory. Of sorts.’

Sebastian said nothing, just stood there watching her, with eyes full of shadows.

‘Everyone has their demons, Ophelia.

Some people never get around to facing them the way you just faced yours.’

‘You have demons?’ she asked.

‘Never doubt it. They’re just different from yours, that’s all.’

‘Will you tell me one of them? A confidence for a confidence in order to make a woman feel a little less exposed?’