'Incredible.' He groaned. 'You're so bloody incredible.'
Afterwards he grabbed her hand and pulled her all the way back onto the bed. Breathless, she felt insane with the bliss. He walked to the table, sliced some pineapple from the assortment of fresh fruit arranged on a platter. He held a piece to her mouth for her to taste. The juice was deliciously both sweet and acidic. She took the last of it into her mouth. He started to lick the juice from his fingers, but she grabbed his hand, and licked them for him-felt the kick inside again. She had let go of everything now, allowing nothing in her head but the desire-the animal need to be with him. All sensuality, no thought.
His eyes didn't leave hers as, keeping hold of his hand, she lay back on the pillows and demanded, 'Do it again.'
'With pleasure.'
'Maximum pleasure.' She closed her eyes.
Seb looked out the wide open door frame and watched her sitting cross-legged on the sand combing her hair. As beautiful as a siren tempting a sailor to his death. He wished he were combing her hair. He wished she were sitting astride his lap and he were sinking deep into her, and having that glorious hair trail across his face and those long legs wound round him.
She was an incredible lover. Hell, yes, she was incredible. He'd never felt so wanted, or felt such want for another in his life, had been surprised by her hunger and her aggression. Ana was assertive? Why, yes, she was now. If only he'd realised, he'd have come after her sooner.
Every fantasy he acted on he wanted an immediate repeat. And more ideas filled his brain, tantalising him. So now the siren called and he was helpless to resist. He walked out to the beach, took the comb from her hand and did what he'd been dreaming of.
The afternoon stretched long and lazy. He got a bao game and with Hamim's help they learned how to play it. Her competitiveness came to the fore, especially when he proposed an adults-only kind of prize for the winner. He was intrigued by the way her mind worked, the way she skilfully strategised-and he wanted to know more. 'You play chess?'
'Yes.'
'Who with?'
'I used to play with Phil. And then at university-' She broke off and coloured.
'What?'
'My ex-boyfriend thought he could play.'
'You whipped him every time, huh?' Because she was good, she was smart and there was much more to her than big blue eyes and intoxicating long legs.
She nodded. 'He didn't like it.'
'What happened to ex-boyfriend?'
Her eyes dropped to the board. 'He found someone else. Someone shorter. Someone blonde.'
So she'd been cheated on, huh? No wonder she didn't believe him when he said he'd been single all this time. And there was that height thing again. 'Someone crap at chess?'
She laughed. 'I don't know. Probably.'
'That man was clearly an imbecile. When playing for this kind of reward it's not a bad thing to lose to you.'
She looked at him slyly. 'I thought you always played to win.'
'Well, you have to admit this is a win-win situation.'
She dropped some kete into one of the grooves on the board. 'What was it like winning the Robertson case?'
'You know about that?'
'It was in every national newspaper for weeks. Of course I know about it.'
The Robertson case had been ugly. The guy had let his TV talent show instant stardom go to his head. Had ditched his young wife of three years and their newborn babe and embraced the life of the rock star-and the starlet he'd met at the recording studio. He'd thought his newfound money and fame would swing it. Had appointed one of the biggest name divorce lawyers in the city-arguing his new wealth was his and not for sharing with his wife and child. His wife had appointed Seb. At the time it had been the biggest case of his career and had cemented his reputation. 'Robertson had wanted his fight in court. He'd got it.'
'And you won.'
'There were no winners, not in a case like that,' Seb still felt the anger. 'There was a kid, Ana. A kid who when old enough will look back at that case and see that his father didn't want him, didn't want to know him, didn't want to spend time with him and that he was forced by the court to pay money to help raise him. How's that going to make him feel? And it happens all the time. Either the kids are rejected or they're torn apart as the bargaining chip between two bitter parents.'
He always encouraged counselling, mediation, out-of-court settlements-anything to try to make it easier because those people had to deal with each other when they had kids. There was no end, no finality. All it was was a mess.
'Was that what it was like for you, when your parents broke up?'
He froze. Should have known that was where she was headed. That was why he never usually discussed his parents with women-they always wanted to probe deeper than he liked to go. 'I was the bargaining chip, I guess. They both fought for me, over me.'
But even though they'd both wanted him, he hadn't been enough. Not enough to hold them together, not enough to make either of them happy. Most of their problems had been because they hadn't been able to have another child. He-their one child-hadn't fulfilled them.
'I guess being fought over is better than being unwanted.' He glanced up in time to catch her quick flinch and wanted to cut out his tongue. He reached across and touched her hand. 'Hey, I'm sorry.'
'It's OK.' But her fingers slipped from his. 'You're right.'
He'd had no idea about her past. But now he did, it just reinforced his decision on what he planned to do with his own life. 'I'm never having children.'
'Me, either.'
His brows lifted-didn't all women have a clucky side somewhere? 'Why not?'
She was staring at the board. 'Because I don't want anyone else going through what I went through.'
OK, so they had more in common than he'd ever thought. 'Nor do I.'
She suddenly broke into a big smile. 'Time to pay up, big-shot. I just won.'
The longer they spent playing in the shade, the more outrageous the prizes for winning became-playful, teasing, and at one point, at her instigation, downright kinky. Seb's sense of reality receded. It was like that mad week again-where all that mattered was touching her, being close to her. He simply couldn't get enough.
Ana was brushing her hair when she heard Seb swear. She turned, surprised at the vehemence. 'What's wrong?'
'We're out of condoms.' He growled, a bitter, frustrated sound. 'Hell, the last time we had a holiday fling we got married. This time it'd be just the thing if I knocked you up.'
Her mind blanked. She heard a clatter and blindly reached out; her hand struck the wall. But the pain didn't bring the world back.
'Ana?' He was beside her, his hands on her waist steadying her. 'Are you OK? What happened?'
She opened her mouth to say 'nothing'. But he was so close, watching so closely. She saw as his thoughts tracked back over what he'd said, and down that horrible thorny path. She swayed again, suddenly remembering. It happened sometimes-with something so simple, a word, an image perhaps, just something that triggered the avalanche of hurt. It swamped her. So fresh, so raw, it could have been yesterday.
'Ana?' His eyes narrowed. 'What's going on?' He inhaled sharply. 'No.' He shook his head slowly. 'No.'
She stared, unable to move as she watched him work it out.
'Oh, my God. I did knock you up.' He gaped. 'Is that where you've been this last year-having my baby? Where the hell is it? What have you done?'
'Nothing!' She snapped. 'I've done nothing. You're wrong.' She backed away from him right up against the wall. 'You're so far wrong.'
'No, I'm not.' He followed, trapping her with his big body. 'Don't even think about lying to me. Were you pregnant?'
She closed her eyes. 'Yes.'
'Then where-?' He broke off. Took a breath and spoke with furious deliberation. 'You said you don't want kids. Did you … did you get rid of my baby?'
'Of course I didn't!' she yelled in his face. 'It's because of what happened that I don't want kids. I'm not going through that again. I'm not losing another child again.'
'What happened?' Horrified, he asked, 'Damn it, tell me what happened.'
'I had a miscarriage.' She felt sick as the pain seared into her. She hadn't spoken of it in months but all of a sudden it was present-right in the room-the agony.
'My baby.' His lips barely moved.
'Yes.'
'Miscarried.' He looked down. There was a long silence.
She put her fingers to her forehead. Waiting, knowing the questions were coming and unable to bear having to answer them. She'd never wanted to have to answer them.
'Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?'
She closed her eyes-just for a moment. 'I didn't want to.'
She heard his sharp inhalation and spoke quickly, preventing his interruption. 'I was hurt.' He'd shattered her illusions so ruthlessly that day when he'd come home more over the moon about his promotion than he'd ever been about marrying her. They'd rowed and she'd run. A couple of weeks later when she'd found out she was pregnant she had still been so hurt that there had been no way she was ever going to tell him. But a couple of weeks after that, reality had started to sink in. 'I knew I was going to have to talk to you. I was just … '