His One-Night Mistress(11)

The boat was ready to leave. Its sole occupant, other than the guide,  was Lia d'Angeli, wearing a dazzlingly white cover-up over her swimsuit,  her hair bundled under a wide-brimmed sunhat. Because she was chatting  with the guide, she hadn't seen him.                       
       
           



       

He could change his mind. Hightail it back down the dock and bury his nose in his book. Peacefully, all by himself.

He didn't like backing down from anyone, least of all a woman.

Then his mind was made up for him. "Mornin', Mr. Talbot, sir," said the  guide, a grin splitting his face. "You comin' with us this fine day?"

"Good morning," Seth said. "Yeah, thought I would."

In utter dismay Lia swiveled to face him. Seth Talbot was the last man  she wanted to see this morning. He had cost her a very expensive dinner  last night in the Reef Room, and he'd haunted her sleep. When Conway had  brought his name up over breakfast, she'd changed the subject with a  singular lack of grace. And now Seth was sauntering down the dock at the  last minute to join an expedition she'd been very much looking forward  to. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

She said sarcastically, "What an unexpected pleasure."

"For both of us," he replied, mockery sparking his green eyes.

"Surely you exaggerate."

The guide said amiably, "If you're both ready, we'll get going."

Although Lia could have jumped out of the boat and run for her life up  the dock, a healthy dose of stubbornness was one of the attributes that  had brought her success in a highly competitive field. "Hurry up, Seth,"  she said tightly, and watched him step into the dinghy, settling  himself beside her on the thwart.

He was wearing a thin white T-shirt over lightweight shorts that doubled  as swim trunks. His forearms were strongly muscled, his hands resting  easily on his thighs … had she ever forgotten those long, lean fingers,  the way they'd played her body as sensitively as any musician's? Like a  lightning bolt, desire slammed through her and unconsciously Lia's body  swayed toward him. Betraying her, just as he'd betrayed her so long ago.

No, she thought frantically. Not again.

Appalled, she straightened on the seat, holding herself rigid as the  boat chugged away from the dock. The bow slapped the waves, the foam an  effervescent white shot through with blue. Beautiful, she thought,  trying with all her might to focus on anything other than the man  sitting so close to her.

The small outboard motor was noisy, so at least she didn't have to talk to him.

All too soon, they reached the reef. The guide cut the motor. "Anyplace  around here is good. We ask you not to touch the corals, it damages  them, and some of them are poisonous." He gave another big grin. "I'll  just sit here and wait for you … we got all the time in the world."

Lia bent to fasten her fins. Then, feeling absurdly self-conscious, she  took off her white top. Her turquoise maillot, sleek-fitting, was  low-cut front and back, and high-cut over her hips. She should be  wearing a nun's habit, she thought irritably, not a swimsuit that  exposed far more of her than it covered.

In spite of herself, she glanced over at Seth. His eyes were riveted on  her, such raw hunger in them that she flinched away from him. So he felt  it, too. After eight long years of silence, he still wanted her.

Her. Not her child.

Her temper flared to life, gloriously reviving. She'd been his victim  years ago, when he hadn't answered her letters. But she didn't have to  be anyone's victim right this minute. She was going to make him suffer.  Unwise of her, no doubt, but understandable under the circumstances. She  tossed her shirt across the forward thwart and leaned across him to get  her mask, thereby giving him an unobstructed view of her cleavage. As  she picked up the mask, she deliberately let her thigh brush his.

With a bland smile she watched him jolt on the seat, his jaw tightening,  desire smoldering in those incredibly green eyes that Marise had  inherited. Too bad, Seth Talbot, she thought meanly. There's not a hope  in hell that I'll ever let you touch me again.

She said lightly, "Enjoy." After tucking her sunhat under her shirt on  the thwart, Lia swung her legs over the edge of the dinghy and slipped  into the sea. She rinsed her mask with water, fitted it over her face  and swam away from the boat. Facedown, she was instantly transported to  another world, where tiny fish flashed yellow, purple and black through a  lacy network of indolently swaying coral.

Her heartbeat slowly settled back to normal, her anger subsiding. She  shouldn't have thrust herself so blatantly at Seth when she had no  intention of coming across. It had been crude of her. Crude and  potentially dangerous.

But, she thought with a small smile, very satisfying.

Then she did her level best to put him out of her mind. He wasn't worth  it. Nor was she going to allow him to ruin her precious and hard-earned  holiday.                       
       
           



       

Seth had waited a couple of minutes before leaving the dinghy. He kept  his T-shirt on, mostly because he couldn't stand advertising the wide  strip of white plaster over his ribs. Bad enough to have stepped in the  way of a stray bullet, without having to talk about it. Especially to  the likes of Lia d'Angeli.

Who'd read his flare of lust like an open book and thrust her breasts practically in his face.

With an entirely predictable response on his part, he thought savagely,  not sure whether he was angrier with her for arousing him or with  himself for responding like a hormone-ridden adolescent. Calling on all  his self-control, he made light conversation with the guide, whose name  was John, while he adjusted his fins and rinsed his mask over the  gunwale. Only then did he lower himself into the sea.

He let himself sink, as always struck by the myriad, sun-shot hues of  the sea. Favoring his ribs, he began to swim, the silky warmth of the  water laving his body.

He needed a woman. That's what he needed. Just as long as her name wasn't Lia.

As he surfaced to breathe, he caught sight of her snorkel not that far  ahead of him. He should head in the opposite direction, he thought, and  knew he wasn't going to. Smoothly he took off in pursuit. When he was a  few feet behind her, he sank again, watching her through the wavering  currents of the tide. She was swimming steadily along the reef, her body  lissome as a mermaid in her turquoise suit, her masked face giving her  an alluring aura of mystery.

A turquoise suit. A mask.

Seth's eyes widened behind his own mask. His jaw dropped so that he  inadvertently swallowed a mouthful of salt water. He surged to the  surface, coughing and spluttering. He had to be wrong. His imagination  was working overtime.

Lia d'Angeli his mysterious butterfly lover? Lia as the woman at the  ball in her shimmering turquoise bodysuit and her all-concealing mask?

He was out of his mind to even think it. Get a life, Seth. So you've  never really forgotten her. So, subliminally, you know she ruined you  for any other woman. So what?

You're letting a turquoise maillot and a snorkeling mask play tricks on you. Because you never really let her go.

He'd never admitted this to himself before. Seth cursed out loud. Which  did he hate more, the fierce stab of hope that he'd found her again, or  the swirling terror that he was wrong? He took a deep breath, filling  his lungs, and again sank below the surface. The slow, graceful finning  of her legs, the long arc of hip, waist and breast … had he ever forgotten  them? Her face he'd never seen. But her body was unmistakable.

He should have recognized her the first moment he'd laid eyes on her in the foyer of the restaurant last night.

Again Seth rose to the surface, and this time conviction rose with him,  hope replaced by certainty. The woman in Paris and the woman he'd met  last night at the resort were one and the same. He'd found her. After  eight years, he'd found her; and her name was Lia d'Angeli.

His first reaction was joy. Joy of a depth and intensity that was extraordinarily rare in his life.

But then, belatedly, Seth's brain started to work. Lia hadn't wanted to  be found. She'd known his name from the beginning, and could have  tracked him down anytime in the intervening years. Meeting him last  night hadn't been her choice, he was sure of that. She'd been, to put it  mildly, horrified and antagonistic. Not to mention enraged.

Why? What had he done? She was the one who'd disappeared. And he was damn well going to find out why.

He swam away from her, his movements choppy and uncoordinated. He felt  as though he'd banged his head hard on the reef; or as though the bullet  had hit a vital organ. But through the confusion of emotion in his  chest he did know one thing. He wasn't going to have a shouting match  with her while he was treading water within earshot of John the guide.  No, the confrontation would keep. After eight years, another hour meant  nothing.