His Last Gamble (13 page)

‘You're
so beautiful,' he said, almost in accusation. She tensed as he lifted his hand, and then sighed as he ran one finger lightly down the side of her neck, over her shoulder and down one arm. Her skin tingled wherever his fingertip touched, and her knees began to tremble warningly. She could feel her breasts swell, the tender nipples pushing hard and urgently against the material of her bikini, begging for the loving attention of his tongue.

‘You know I want you, don't you?' he challenged gruffly, and Charmaine didn't need to look down to where his manhood was straining hard and taunt against his swimming trunks, in order to nod agreement.

‘And you want me?' he persisted.

Charmaine licked her lips, aware of a faint taste of salt on them. She lifted her head and met his grey gaze head on.

‘Yes,' she said sadly. ‘But it's not a good idea.'

She'd spoken the literal truth. She was, in that moment of self-revelation, unable to lie or prevaricate. She did want him. But it was such a bad idea. At least, for her it was. For him, of course, things were utterly different. She'd be just one more successful affair to tick off on his list. An actress a few months ago. A model today. Next month . . . a famous pop singer perhaps.

But for her, there'd be nothing but regret
and
recrimination and pain that would go on and on and on.

Into her mind, came an image of herself in the future. She was back home, and outside her cottage windows, pressed a grey and cold winter day, and her heartbreak had dulled to a mere emptiness that was with her from the moment she opened her eyes in the morning, until she closed them again at night. Wordsworth slept on her lap, her only comfort, and there were only memories of this place and this man, which would have to tide her over for all the years to come.

It was so vivid, and so frightening that it gave her the will to pull free of his spell.

‘So, let's go snorkelling instead, shall we?' she gritted, stepping back and walking to the rail. Although she'd never dived in her life, she was so desperate to get off that boat and away from his potent charm, that she clambered over the rails and did a less than graceful belly flop into the sea.

What she really needed was for it to be stone cold and grimly uninviting. Something to shock her back to sanity. Instead she sank beneath crystal clear warm blue water and emerged a moment later, her body still singing for his touch, her mind still crying out for what it had lost. And must never have.

On the deck, Payne looked down at her. His hands were clenched into fists and he looked thunderously angry.

What
the hell was she playing at? Leading him one moment, then just turning things off the next, as if he were some sort of tap. What did she think—that what had just happened had no more meaning than turning down the offer of a drink?

There was a word for women like her. A nasty word. And it was a word, he slowly began to realise, that simply didn't apply to her. As he forced himself to ignore the clamouring heat and urgent demands of his body, his mind played back the last few minutes.

He had always trusted his instincts—always. They were what made him such a devastatingly good poker player, and had been largely responsible for his incredible luck. And his instincts told him that this girl really was an innocent abroad. In spite of her incredible beauty, he was sure her lack of guile was genuine. Jinx's cruel words this morning had penetrated a delicate skin, not a hard hide grown callous over the years. So she was no femme fatale playing dangerous games. He would bet his life on that.

So, if she wasn't playing a hard-core teasing game, what had just happened?

As he leant on the rail and watched her do an inexpert breaststroke away from the yacht, he tried to clear his mind and concentrate.

It still wasn't easy. She had him tied up in knots! Not surprising, since the sexual chemistry had been there, right from the start.
She'd
certainly come on board his boat today willingly. In fact, he'd sensed a hidden, almost defiant excitement in her ever since she'd returned with her bag full of beach gear. So it wasn't as if he was mistaking the signals.

And that breath-taking moment when he'd looked up at her from the deck had been more than reciprocal. She'd wanted him as much as he'd wanted her. She'd even admitted as much.

Then something had changed. The moment, the passion, the connection had somehow vanished.

‘Why isn't it a good idea Charmaine?' he called down softly, but she was too far away to hear him.

Quickly he reached for the gear and did a straight and clean feet-first dive into the sea, popping up like a cork a moment later and swimming in an easy, energy-efficient overarm crawl towards her.

‘The wreck's just over there,' he said, careful to keep his voice matter-of-fact, and pointing to where a bright orange buoy, marking the place as a possible navigational hazard, bobbed at the surface.

‘OK,' she said, with forced cheerfulness, and set off in her hesitant breaststroke. Silently, he kept pace beside her. If she wanted to pretend that nothing had happened, well, then, he was more than willing to play along.

Her hair had darkened a shade in the water, and through the tint of aqua-marine, her limbs
looked
paler than usual. He swallowed back yet another surge of desire, and whilst she clung to the buoy to get her breath back he stayed nearby, treading water, but keeping a discreet distance.

Charmaine shot him a glance out of the side of her eye. What was he thinking? Was he still angry?

Whilst she'd been waiting for him to join her in the sea, she'd had a chance to start feeling guilty. Oh, she knew she had a right to self defence, and not letting Payne Lacey break her heart was a legitimate (if unofficial) human right, but she really shouldn't have let things go so far.

‘Ready?' he asked at last, and handed over a face mask and snorkel.

She nodded, slipped them on a little awkwardly, then began to swim, face down, feeling uneasy now that she couldn't see him.

But then the magic and the beauty of what lay revealed beneath her gradually began to filter through her misery.

The wreck was of an old fishing trawler, colonised now by beautiful coloured coral in tones of pink, orange, yellow and white. And swimming in and out of them were vibrantly coloured fish and shrimp, the likes of which she had only seen before on wildlife films on the television.

Out of the corner of her eye she kept catching glimpses of Payne—his arms or
legs,
cutting smoothly through the water, always near but never obstructing her view, but making her feel safe. Water was not her natural element, and she had nothing like his expertise or familiarity with the sea, but if anything were to happen, she just knew she'd be all right as long as Payne was there.

Funny. She could trust a man with her life, but not her body, or her heart. Or her future.

No, on second thoughts she corrected herself, as her eyes misted over with unshed tears, concealing her view of the fabulous, man-made reef, there was nothing funny about it at all.

She lifted her head, and spat the snorkel out of her mouth, and determinedly swallowed back her tears. She surreptitiously wiped her eyes as she felt Payne bob up beside her.

‘Everything all right?' he asked solicitously.

‘Yes, fine,' she lied, forcing a bright smile onto her face, which felt as tight and as artificial as Formica. ‘I just needed to clear my mask.'

By now she'd forced the tears back inside, and re-donning the mask, she looked down once more.

And almost screamed. Except of course, you couldn't scream with a snorkel in your mouth.

She jerked upright, splashing and nearly slipping under.

‘Hey, careful,' Payne said sharply, catching her arm and lifting her chin above water.
‘What's
wrong?' he snapped as he took in the sudden pallor of her face and the panic in her lovely eyes.

‘Sh-shark,' she managed to jerk out. Was it even now powering towards them, its cold fish eyes and even colder fish heart, centred on their thrashing legs? Without a word, Payne bobbed down, making her scream his name in panic.

‘Payne NO!'

He'd be killed. And the thought of never seeing him again filled her with morbid dread. Any thought for her own safety or mortality faded into insignificance. Besides, what did it matter if she died too? She wouldn't want to go on living without him anyway.

She almost sobbed with relief as his blonde head, slick with sea water, popped back up.

For a second she could hardly believe her eyes. He was grinning—actually laughing. What was wrong with this man? Did he have so little fear of death or danger that he literally laughed in the face of it?

‘It's a tiddler,' he crowed. ‘And a completely harmless species anyway.' Then all laughter fled as he realised the extent of her horror. ‘Oh sweetheart, you didn't think I'd have brought you out here if it was dangerous did you?' he said roughly, propelling himself towards her and grabbing hold of her firmly. ‘Darling, I promise you, we're perfectly safe. I wouldn't let anything hurt you, I swear.'

And
he meant it.

Charmaine nodded, knowing that he spoke the truth, and knowing too that he was waiting for her to speak, to say that she was OK, maybe even to laugh it all off.

It was just a silly scare, that was all. The kind of thing you'd look back on later and feel ashamed of, for being so scared. She knew all that, but still she didn't speak. She couldn't. But not because of the shark. It was because she was still reeling from the impact of that moment when she thought he was going to die.

She'd been devastated. In fact, she'd almost felt as if she herself was dead all ready.

And that intensity could only mean one thing.

She hadn't been mistaken last night.

She really was in love with Payne Lacey.

* * *

The next half an hour passed in a blur. She was vaguely aware of him urging her back to the boat, of climbing the ladder whilst he swarmed up behind her, hovering over her and all but hauling her up the rungs himself. She barely acknowledged the warm blanket he slipped around her shoulders, and she sipped out of the balloon glass of brandy he pressed on her without even tasting the fiery liquid that gradually warmed and thawed her.

She was dimly aware that he was trying to
reassure
her about the shark and apologising all the time for her fright. In some still-functioning part of her mind, she even knew that he must be silently berating himself for bringing her snorkelling.

And she wanted to reassure him that that wasn't it. The shark didn't matter. But if she did that, then she'd have to come up with some other reason for her shock.

And she could hardly blurt out the real reason for that, could she?

How embarrassing it would be for him. What a nuisance to have a smitten woman around. She was supposed to be a sophisticated model, a seen-it-all, done-it-all woman of the world who knew the rules. Jinx would never do something so crass as to fall in love with a man who only wanted a few weeks' dalliance in the sun.

And so she let him tuck her feet underneath her on the sofa, and closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. And tried not to think about what would happen next. Because, now more than ever, that vision of her lonely future looked totally inescapable.

* * *

Payne watched her sleeping and cursed himself silently. Of all the stupid things to do. He should have warned her about the small sharks. They were harmless enough, but he
should
have known that just their presence would be enough to scare her. She was not a native, after all, she wasn't used to such things.

He was a fool. All kinds of a fool.

He groaned as he remembered the horror in her eyes as she stared at him, out there in the water. She'd looked as if her world were coming to an end. But she must have known that even if it had been a Great White down there, he'd have killed it before he let it get anywhere near her. Women just knew these things. They knew when they had a man hopelessly hooked.

And he was hooked, he finally admitted to himself.

It was a thought far more frightening than any shark! And yet, as he gazed down at the sleeping beauty on his sofa, he just wished he could make her understand that he'd do anything to keep her safe. He'd do anything to make her happy.

Anything at all.

He sighed and leaned back on the chair, closing his eyes. As he did so, Charmaine risked peeking out from under her lashes, saw that he wasn't looking her way, and watched him openly.

He really was breath taking. His hair had dried in clumps, still sticky from the sea, and she yearned to smooth it down with her fingers. She knew it would be so easy to get up and go to him, perhaps slip onto his lap
and
startling him awake. Then she could kiss him, long and lovingly, not even trying to hide her emotion for him, and then let him carry her into the bedroom. He was welcome to her virginity. He was welcome to all she had and possessed.

It would be worth all the heartache that would follow, she just knew it would. It would be bliss. And, after all, she might never fall in love again. Oh yes, it would be so easy to convince herself that it was better to love and lose then never love at all. And that being Payne Lacey's lover was worth any pain or consequence. And if it was only herself that she had to think of, she knew she'd be making love to him right now.

But there was Lucy.

How could she betray Lucy by taking up with the man she had loved so much that she'd almost killed herself because of him? How could she add a second betrayal to the one she'd already suffered? How could her own sister stab her in the back like that?

The stark, unalterable, unbearable answer to that was simple.

She couldn't.

CHAPTER
NINE