Page 45 of Forbidden Hawaiian Nights
There was an air of casual professionalism about the place. The floorboards shone and there were plants everywhere. There was no air-conditioning, which they considered a threat to the planet, but instead overhead fans. It was tiny in comparison to the places he was accustomed to, and although clearly busy it felt uncrowded, with everyone having their own space, and most people out exploring the great outdoors.
A constant breeze blew through all the many open windows and the dining was informal, with a choice of individual square white tables or else a long, gleaming communal table for anyone wanting to socialise with other guests and listen in to the various speakers they had on a twice-weekly basis.
It was out of his comfort zone, but then what wasn’t ever since he had landed in Hawaii?
He gazed down at the woman lying curled into him. The silence between them was comfortable, peaceful. They’d biked straight here from the lush waterfalls they had visited earlier. They were tired but still too wired to head into the hotel.
‘Fancy a dip?’ She turned to him and he frowned.
‘What, now?’ He looked out to the ocean which was black, streaked with silver from the full moon.
‘Sure.’ She sprang to her feet, lithe and supple and sandy and utterly bewitching.
‘No chance.’
‘You’re not scared, are you?’ she teased. ‘You don’t have to worry. I’m an expert swimmer. I’m used to the sea, in the daytime and at night.’
‘You’ve done this before?’ Max asked gruffly.
‘Of course, I have! Lots of times. Don’t forget, this is my home. I grew up with the ocean all around me. I don’t scare easily when it comes to the sea.’
She was already stepping out of the small denim shorts she was wearing, reaching to strip off the cropped white tee shirt. Her hair was all over the place, half over her eyes as she looked down at him, laughing.
And he looked right back at her, and all he could see was a vision of her being consumed by the deep, black ocean. The rush of protectiveness that attacked him was so fierce that for a few seconds he couldn’t breathe.
His heart was hammering and he had all the symptoms of a man in full panic attack mode.
He wanted to leap to his feet, hold her tight and keep holding her. He wanted to keep holding her until she was persuaded never to enter the water again at night, never even to contemplate the idea, never, indeed, to stray far from his possessive gaze.
What the hell was going on?
This was what his parents had all been about, he thought, as the reality he had kept at bay now slammed into him with the force of a freight train.
Hadn’t he seen the havoc emotion could cause? Hadn’t he been a casualty of their all-consuming love? They had abandoned restraint in the name of love and he—all of them—had paid the price.
He had sworn from an early age to exercise control over his life, but here he was now, worrying over a woman who hadn’t even done anything yet. Worrying at the thought of her swimming in that dark ocean, prey to currents, eddies and whatever dodgy sea creatures might be lurking just below the surface.
It was an alien experience and he didn’t like it. It made him edgy and unsettled.
His original plan for a flying visit to a country he’d had no interest in seeing had been scuppered at the starting block. Instead of reining in the situation, he had found himself going along for the ride, curious to see where it would lead.
What did they say about curiosity killing cats?
He had allowed lust to dictate the pace of a relationship with a woman who worked for him. Yes, the situation was an unusual one, but she was still his employee, and he had always had very clear ideas about having any sort of physical relationship with someone who worked for him.
And yet, he had fallen into bed with Mia with only the merest of reservations.
He’d managed to persuade himself that this was a different life. Somehow. He’d successfully managed to convince himself that this was a much-deserved holiday, under which banner it had been okay to push aside all dissenting inner voices.
He’d slept with her and she’d stayed in his bed and he’d wanted her there. Sleeping next to him, warm and responsive to his touch, always there when he wanted her.
And this four-day trek across the islands? He’d sensibly written that off as an important way of getting to grips with what his sister had been after when it came to the hotel. Sure, by then, he’d also seen it as a good way of having Mia to himself, of indulging a need that had tailgated him from behind and thrown him off course when he had least been expecting it.
Everything neatly wrapped up as acceptable because he deserved a holiday…deserved some time out…
Roll the clock on, and here he was, worrying about her, looking at her and imagining all sorts of nonsense, his stomach clenched into a tight knot.
He felt as though he had hit some kind of crossroads.
