His Last Gamble (12 page)

She sighed and stepped back out on deck, surprised to see that they were nearly at
Paradise
Beach, near the Palace and her own small hotel. In fact, a few minutes later the engines stopped and she heard the unfamiliar clanking of chains as the anchor was lowered.

‘Hello sleepy head,' Payne said cheerfully, suddenly appearing beside her. ‘Do you want breakfast—or should I say brunch, or are you anxious to get back to the hotel?'

‘The hotel I think,' she said quickly, refusing to meet his eye.

She watched him climb lightly down a ladder on the side of the boat and release a small boat with a fold-away outboard motor. Once he was on safely on board, she turned around and backed carefully down the ladder herself, knowing all the while that he was looking up at her, and her nearly-exposed bottom in the tight-fitting shorts.

She stepped onto the boat which rocked treacherously beneath her, and sat down on a wooden plank seat a little more quickly and far more firmly than she'd intended. She shot him a look, just daring him to speak, but he was looking innocently behind him, fiddling with a rope.

When he turned back to her, his face was utterly deadpan. ‘Ready?' he asked.

She nodded, her lips pressed tight in a thin, hard line.

As they neared the beach, it became apparent that the arrival of the luxury yacht hadn't gone unnoticed. On the beach first
Jo-Jo,
then Phil, then the rest of the models became clearly visible.

And her heart sank.

They all came forward, chattering like excited magpies, as Payne expertly beached the craft, whilst Charmaine was clambering out almost before it had stopped.

‘Wow, what a boat,' Dee-Dee said, shading her eyes as she looked towards the ‘Queen of Diamonds.' ‘Is it yours?'

‘Of course it's his,' Jo-Jo said, then sighed wistfully. ‘No chance of doing a shoot on board, I suppose,' he asked cheekily.

‘No chance at all,' Payne grinned back.

Charmaine suddenly became aware of a pair of eyes boring into her back, and turned to see Jinx glaring at her. She was topless, and had obviously been deepening her tan in preparation for the afternoon's shoot. She looked stunning. And nobody was noticing her. No wonder she looked ready to spit fire.

Charmaine looked hastily away, and caught Jo-Jo's eye. ‘I'm not late for the shoot am I?' she asked guiltily.

‘No, no, that's fine,' her friend said, looking from her to the yacht, then to Payne and back to her. Then his eyes scanned her casual clothes knowingly, and he smiled.

Charmaine flushed, realising at once that Jo-Jo must have seen her leave yesterday in this outfit and had, correctly if erroneously, assumed that they'd spent the night together.
And
so had Jinx, if the waves of fulminating pique and anger coming off her were anything to go by.

‘In fact, Phil has found two locations, and we're shooting Coral and Jinx there this afternoon, but the rest of you somewhere else tomorrow morning. Very early, to get the sunrise. So you can have the rest of the day off.'

‘Yes darling, and if you'll take my advice, you'll spend it sleeping,' Jinx said, and added with heart-stopping spitefulness ‘someone really should have told you that it's just so unprofessional to come in looking like you haven't slept a wink. Even when you haven't.'

Even Dee-Dee shot Jinx a surprised look at that. Jo-Jo stiffened but before he could reprimand her, Payne reached out for Charmaine's hand, not surprised to find it as cold as ice.

‘Seeing as you have the rest of the day off,' he said loudly, ‘why don't you come back onto the boat. A Queen deserves the presence of another Queen, don't you think?'

The name of the boat was plainly visible out in the bay, and Charmaine felt her heart melt at his surprising and very public defence of her.

‘All right,' she said, knowing she was a fool to let Jinx's bile force her into even closer proximity to Payne, but she wouldn't have been human if she hadn't felt a thrill of
triumph
at the sick look that crossed the redheaded model's face.

Payne was telling everyone, in effect, that she was his girl, and so watch out. It was heady stuff, and she had to keep reminding herself that it wasn't true. He was just being kind, knowing how much Jinx's cruel words could wound her.

As she hurried back to the hotel, changed her underwear, and then stood indecisively in front of the mirror, Charmaine was aware that she was feeling something she'd never really felt before.

What was it exactly? Thrilled. Charmed. Yes, all of that. And why not—a man like Payne had chosen her over someone like Jinx. He wanted her. Wanted to spend time with her.

And she . . .

Her hand, hovering over a white silk dress with a floating hemline and pretty cross-strapped neckline, hesitated.

Yes, exactly what was she doing?

Hadn't she just decided that she no longer planned to get her revenge on Payne? And hadn't last night shown her she was playing way out of her league?

So what was she doing now?

She didn't know. She was out of control. Her hands had taken the dress from the hanger and were pulling it over her head before she knew what she was about.

It
was as if her body knew what it was doing, even if her mind and soul didn't.

She added a pale pink lipstick to her mouth and slipped on a pair of flat but delicate white sandals. She brushed out her hair vigorously, then forced herself to meet her own reflection in the mirror.

Had she gone mad? It seemed the only explanation.

But as she met the bright, intense sparkle in her blue eyes, she realised something else. She might well be mad, but she also felt alive.

Truly, zestfully, wonderfully alive.

And that Payne Lacey was the reason why.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Charmaine hastily thrust a peach coloured bikini, a large beach towel, a bottle of sun-tan lotion, a pair of sunglasses and a pair of flip flops into a bag and raced out of the door.

She almost expected him to be gone, like a promised Christmas present that never materialised come the big day, but no, he was still on the beach, leaning against the tender, his long legs thrust forward, feet almost buried in the sand. He was wearing a white T-shirt that hugged the contours of his upper torso, and a light sea breeze ruffled his dark gold hair.

His
eyes lit up as he saw her coming across the beach towards him, and Charmaine felt her heart stutter, like a faulty engine. He was glad to see her. Really glad. For the first time in her life, a man desired her and wanted to spend his time with her, and the knowledge was so heady she felt almost drunk with it.

She sounded as breathless as she felt as she slung her bulging bag into the small boat. ‘All set. Has Jo-Jo gone?' she looked around, but the models and the rest of the gang were nowhere to be seen.

‘They all trundled off to Cherry Tree Hill to get some panoramic shots,' Payne faithfully repeated Jo-Jo's message. ‘You're not to worry, but enjoy yourself for the rest of the day.'

Charmaine glanced at him, one eyebrow lifted. ‘Oh yes? His orders, or yours?' she teased. She didn't need to be a genius to understand where all this sudden self-confidence had come from. She felt as if she could take on the world, so long as Payne's eyes always lit up like that whenever she was near.

Payne grinned widely. ‘Both. Now, how do you fancy snorkelling?'

* * *

She fancied snorkelling very well, as it turned out. After returning them to ‘The Queen of
Diamonds'
he took the yacht around to the other side of the island, where ‘a nice little shipwreck' had been attracting sea life for the last decade or so. It was, he assured her, in relatively shallow waters, and luckily they had the popular site to themselves as he weighed anchor.

‘You can swim, right?' Payne asked, letting a pair of snorkels and masks fall onto the deck, then watching her appreciatively as she bent down to examine the gear more closely.

She was wearing the beach towel draped, sarong-wise, around her, for when he'd gone below to change, she'd suddenly felt overwhelmed with that old familiar enemy, shyness. Perhaps it was because the bikini made her feel worse than naked—if there was such a thing! Perhaps it was because she was slowly becoming aware of how isolated they were out here on his boat, with nobody for miles around.

Or yet again, perhaps it was simply because she could feel something in the air, a portent that some life-altering event was about to happen to her. Whatever it was, she was glad to be able to push all these thoughts to the back of her mind and think and speak about something as mundane as swimming instead.

‘Of course I can swim,' she said now, then was forced to add honestly, ‘though probably not very well. I learnt at school, in the
municipal
swimming pool.'

‘Let me guess. Got your 25 meter certificate at twelve, and your 50 meter one a year later, and haven't dabbled a toe since?' he teased.

Charmaine laughed. ‘Something like that.' She wondered if a few tentative strokes on the beaches near Weymouth and other assorted English tourist resorts counted as supplementary experience.

Probably not.

‘OK, well there's nothing to worry about,' he reassured her. ‘I'll be right beside you every moment. And we always have these,' he added, opening a locker on the deck and producing some inflatable water-wings.

Again her amused laughter tinkled across the deck, making him wish that she would laugh more often. It suited her.

‘Oh, I think I can manage without those,' she demurred, then began to listen in earnest as he explained the principles of snorkelling, and the safety measures needed. Next he gave a practical demonstration of how to prevent the face mask from misting up and how to use the snorkel itself.

‘Remember, try not to bite down,' he finished. ‘I know it's a natural reaction, but try to resist it.'

Charmaine nodded seriously. But biting down on her snorkel was not the only thing she was trying to resist! She also very much wanted to lean across, take the contraption from his
mouth,
and kiss him until he begged for mercy, and this temptation was giving her far more trouble than a simple piece of rubber!

To take his concentration off the lesson and return it firmly to her was a need so strong that it was actually making her shake. She wanted to make him notice that she was more or less naked underneath this towel and once he did, she just knew . . .

‘Right then, ready?'

Charmaine blinked. ‘Er, yes. Ready.'

‘And you remember the signals?'

Signals? What signals? She really had been daydreaming when she should have been paying attention.

Payne's eyes glittered as if aware of her bewilderment, and she flushed as she wondered if he could read her mind and know what had caused her distraction.

‘Yes. Signals,' he reiterated firmly. ‘The thumb and finger together in an O, the universal sign for everything being OK, and the flat hand, waved up and down, for a problem.'

‘Oh yes. Right,' she said standing upright again, and trying to tell herself it was only the slight rocking motion of the ship that was making her feel so giddy.

Then her mouth went dry as he stood up and pulled the T-shirt off his torso, revealing deeply bronzed skin and a powerful chest. It really wasn't fair for a man to be so beautiful.
What
sculptor or painter wouldn't want to capture his physique in marble or oils?

He dipped suddenly, and she realised he was pulling off his shorts! Her lungs exhaled all the air from them as if she'd just been punched. Surely he wasn't going to swim naked!

No, she realised in bitter disappointment a moment later, he wasn't. Underneath he wore a pair of black swimming trunks that did very little to conceal the hard male dominance of his loins. His tanned thighs, like moulded iron, clenched and moved with fluid ease as he knelt on one knee to pick up the gear.

Suddenly, he lifted his head sharply to look up at her, as if some male instinct suddenly alerted him to danger. Or to something even more potent and powerful.

Their eyes clashed, clung and seemed to speak without the clumsy need for words.

And Charmaine experienced one of those moments that would remain with her forever.

With him knelt before her like this, almost naked, as if a slave in front of his queen, she felt suddenly aflame. Conflicting emotions bombarded her from all directions. She wanted so much, and all different things, and she wanted them all right now. This instant.

She wanted him to kiss her feet, to run his tongue around her ankles, then up her shin, around her calf, moving up to lick the small indent at the back of her knee.

She
wanted to reach down and pull him up to face her, so that she would be free of this tormenting moment.

She wanted to bend down and push him back onto the deck, rip those black swimming trunks off him and make love to him as no other woman ever had before or could again.

She wanted him to pretend that none of this was happening so that she could pretend the same.

She wanted him not to be looking at her with those ocean-deep grey eyes. And yet she wanted him to keep looking at her like that forever.

She shook her head helplessly. And as if in answer to her unspoken appeal for help, slowly, and holding her eyes with his own all the time, Payne rose to his feet and towered over her. The air around them became charged with electricity, as if a sudden hurricane had emerged and was threatening to blow them both away.

His voice, when he spoke, was husky with desire. ‘Take that towel off,' he rasped, but even before she had a chance to register his words, let alone obey, he was reaching out and yanking it away.

She took a tiny step forward to keep her balance, and shivered at her sudden exposure. She tensed a little as he dropped his eyes to look down at her, then relaxed as she saw the desire in his eyes intensify and burn.