'Drew, please-' she managed, wondering whether he knew that those rosebuds were tightening now beneath the concealing blanket of foam.
'I'd been running and I was pouring with sweat, and I saw you stretched out on a towel with your arms raised so languidly above your head, and I could barely move-' It had been one of the most exquisitely frustrating erections of his life, and in forcing himself to quell it he had only succeeded in making himself ache all the more.
'Drew, don't-' She moved her hips restlessly. 'Don't … '
Ignoring her plea, he simply stared very hard at her. 'And do you remember what I did next?'
'You shouted at me and threw me your T-shirt,' she responded dully. 'And told me to cover myself up.'
'So I did.' He gave a disbelieving laugh as he recalled the hypnotic lure of seeing her pale flesh contrasted against the darker curves of the baking pebbles. That lure had kept him abroad far longer than he had intended, for he'd seen the danger she represented-a danger he had not contemplated at that stage in his young life.
Yet, perversely, the more he denied it, the more her allure had stubbornly refused to go away. And every woman he was intimate with in those subsequent years wore shiny gold bikini bottoms in the fevered longings of his mind.
He came and crouched down beside the bath, so that his face was on a level with hers, and she found that she couldn't look away from the compelling blue blaze of his eyes. 'God-what a fool I was with you, Shelley. To be so in awe of your innocence that I let it control me!'
She shook her head, but it felt weighted and useless, too heavy for her neck. 'Nothing controls you, Drew. You're the one who does the controlling.'
He reached his hand out and trickled a finger down the damp flush of her cheek, feeling the unresisting silk of her skin. 'Am I really?' he questioned softly. 'No, I don't think so. I let my conscience control me for too long-protecting my innocent bride-to-be, when all the time she couldn't wait … couldn't wait for marriage and the man she professed to love. You wanted sex so badly that you were prepared to give yourself to the first man who came along, weren't you, Shelley?'
She leaned her head back against the bath, too weary to protest, too comfortable to move. 'I'm too tired to argue with you,' she sighed. 'It wasn't like that.'
'Oh, yes, it was,' he contradicted forcefully. 'You know damned well it was!'
She shook her head. 'No, Drew. You placed me on an impossible pedestal-which you seemed to glory in smashing from underneath my feet! It was all right for you! You'd lived a little; you'd gone travelling and tasted all that the world had to offer. And then you came home to your virgin bride-how perfect! But you never gave a thought to my needs, or my feelings, did you? You couldn't resist those women abroad, but you could certainly resist me!'
'So the way you behaved was my fault-is that what you're saying, Shelley?'
Suddenly he stood up and moved away and her eyes followed him, missing him, needing him, wishing that she could travel back in time and that everything could be so different.
But it couldn't. And she wasn't going to open herself up to more hurt by hankering after a man who had no interest in her other than sexual. Especially a man who had once loved her.
He stood there staring down at her, his face a weave of complex planes and shadows, and she wondered if he was aware of how much she desired him.
Even after all this time.
'Get out,' she mumbled, her eyelids feeling as if someone had perched lead weights on them.
He frowned. 'I'm not going anywhere until I'm convinced that you're not going to fall asleep. Do you have any idea of how long you've been lying there?'
'Not long enough!' She struggled to keep her eyes open and finally got around to asking what she should have asked the moment he'd nonchalantly strolled into the bathroom. 'What are you doing here, anyway?'
'I thought I'd better check you hadn't drowned.' He looked into her rosy face, at the dilated pupils of her drowsy eyes. She was looking at him as though she was drowning, he observed thoughtfully, before closing his mind to that wide-eyed appeal.
'And did you just happen to be passing?' she asked him sleepily. 'Or do you go around playing guardian angel to all the female guests? Barging into their bathrooms and leering at them?'
'No, I make an exception for you, Shelley.' He laughed softly. 'I always did. As for leering-that kind of implies that it's unwanted attention, and I certainly didn't hear you objecting a minute ago! In fact, I rather got the feeling that you were sorry I stopped.'
'Well, you would, wouldn't you? The phrase may have gone out of fashion-but you obviously haven't moved with the times since you are the original male chauvinist pig, Drew Glover!'
'Ah, but pigs can be very lovable animals, Shelley! Now why don't you let that water out and catch up on some sleep before I buy you dinner?'
She very nearly sat up in indignation, but remembered where she was just in time, and contented herself with a snort instead. 'You have to be out of your tiny little mind!'
'Very probably.'
'You seriously think I want to have dinner with you?'
He shook his head. 'No, that's just the thing-I don't. Certainly not on any sensible, rational level. Any more than I wish to have dinner with you. And yet at the same time there is nothing I want more, and the same goes for you, Shelley. If I go home and eat supper alone-or even with someone else-I'll spend the whole evening thinking about you. Wondering about you. What your life has been and whether it's lived up to all its promise.'
'I'm flattered!'
'Oh, don't be!' His mouth flattened. 'It's only like the scratching of an itch, or the slaking of a thirst. I don't want you to be an enigma any more-so let's have dinner as equals. Simple. An equal I can deal with.'
'Deal with?' she questioned uncertainly.
'Sure. We both know that there is a sense of unfinished business between us, and don't deny it, Shelley, because I can read in your eyes that you agree. It's an interesting but rather annoying dilemma, isn't it? For both of us to be drawn so irresistibly towards something we'd both rather forget? But at least this time my desire for you is not restricted by any outdated morals. So-' he raised his brows '-dinner?'
'What if I told you I'm not hungry?'
'Then I'd be justified in calling you a liar!' he retorted softly, staring down at the highest cheekbones he had ever seen on a woman. 'But telling the truth was never your strong point, was it, Shelley?' He stared down at the pinched paleness of her face. 'You look bloody awful as it is-and I don't want you collapsing on me.'
'Why should you care whether I collapse or not, Drew?'
'Care?' He laughed, but it was the emptiest sound she had ever heard. "'Care" wouldn't be my word of choice, Shelley. Let's just say that it's about time we tied up the loose ends left over from our relationship once and for all. Maybe then we'll both be free of whatever it is that still binds us.'
'And for tying loose ends I presume you're talking about sex?'
'Well, I certainly don't mean a restrained courtship,' he answered cruelly. 'Been there; done that!'
'You are a hard, hard man!' she shot back, then wished she could bite her words back as she saw his arrogant responding smile. She waited for some remark which was heavy with innuendo.
But Drew was never predictable.
'Just get out of the tub, Shelley,' he growled as he swung out of the bathroom.
CHAPTER SIX
SHELLEY was covered in goosebumps as she climbed out of the bath once Drew had gone. She dipped her hand in and fished around in the soapy water to find the plug and let it out. The water was now almost completely cold! But her teeth stopped chattering once she had wrapped herself in the monstrous bathrobe which hung on the back of the door. She stood by the open door of the bathroom, put her head to one side, and listened.
Nothing.
Her breathing sounded magnified in her ears as she went back into the lilac bedroom, half expecting to see him arrogantly sprawled out on the shiny expanse of the bed, but the room looked empty.
'Drew?' Her voice sounded indistinct. 'Are you still in here?'
Feeling a little like an amateur detective, she even peeped behind the silky lilac curtains, until she had satisfied herself that he had definitely gone!
Except that satisfied was probably as inappropriate a description for her as 'care' had been for him. She felt far from satisfied-more angry with herself and with him. And mixed up, too-because, yes, she still wanted Drew as much as he clearly wanted her. She had known that from the moment they had seen one another on the beach. Only this time he was not being held back by some old-fashioned sense of what was right. He had told her that, too, and with heartbreaking honesty.