Page 108 of Raul
She crooked her arm over her eyes to hide the tears. Here she was in paradise, incapable of enjoying it. She should just rip off the bandages and dive into the water. Fear and the burn of salt water would be better than this abject misery.
The sound of an engine caught her attention, and she sat up, squinting to follow the path of a small jet. It was descending, which was odd since the only nearby place to land was this entirely private island. The only other person who would haveaccess was Kyran Redda, and she couldn’t imagine that the rock star would interrupt Gabriel and Quinn’s honeymoon. Yet the plane continued to descend, clearly headed for the island’s landing strip. The jet dropped behind the trees, but she could hear the scream of the engines as they reversed thrust to brake.
Shrugging, she returned to watching the flickering fish in the water and wallowing in her unhappiness until Bertrand swam up.
“I’m sorry you can’t come in the water,” her copilot said. “The colors of the sea creatures are incredible.”
“I can see them just fine from here,” she said. “Did the shark swim by you?”
For a moment, he looked startled, but then he laughed. “You didn’t see a shark or you would have yelled. I saw a sea turtle, though.”
“Very cool. I’ll check out your photos on land.” She waved at Bertrand’s waterproof camera. “By the way, Gabriel and Quinn have company. Another jet just landed here.”
“Huh,” Bertrand said. “You’d think they’d want to be alone. Maybe it’s just supplies?”
“By private jet? It’s a lot cheaper to put them on a boat.”
“Maybe they ran out of something crucial like toilet paper…or champagne,” Bertrand said with a grin.
Erica reached down to flick water at him. “Go back to Solange.”
Their heads both swiveled as a different kind of engine’s roar sounded. A sleek white speedboat had come around the curve of the shore and was headed straight for them.
“Someone’s in a hurry,” Bertrand said.
“Maybe someone from the second jet?” Erica speculated. “It can’t be a medical emergency because they would have had us use Gabriel’s plane.”
Bertrand called to his wife to come back to their boat so she didn’t accidentally get run over by the approaching craft.
As it got closer, she could see two people on it, one steering the boat and the other standing beside the helmsman. Her heart did a flip even as she told herself it wasn’t possible. But the passenger looked heartbreakingly like Raul.
She scrambled to her feet and smoothed down her white, ankle-length cover-up.
The boat throttled back the engine to a low mutter and eased up beside their craft.
Her lungs suddenly refused to function. The passengerwasRaul, wearing a white shirt and blue shorts, his hair ruffled by the wind.
Erica froze and nearly toppled over the side as the speedboat’s wake rocked the deck under her feet. Grabbing wildly at the railing to save herself, she shook her head, feeling as though she had conjured the prince up out of her daydreams.
What the hell is Raul doing here?
She clung to the railing as he tossed a line across to their helmsman, roping the two watercraft together. Then he leaped onto their deck and climbed onto the stern, his gaze locked on her.
“Erica, would you join me on my boat?” He made an oddly tentative gesture toward the sleek speedboat bobbing beside them. “I would like to speak with you in private, if you are willing to listen.”
Dear God, he looked so…so beautiful with the sunlight glinting in the blond highlights of his waving hair and his broad shoulders limned by the white cotton of his shirt blazing against the blue sky and sea. No smile curled his sculpted lips, and worry clouded his blue eyes.
Her throat refused to function, so she just nodded.
Now his mouth relaxed into a relieved curve as he held out his hand to her.
What choice did she have but to put her hand in his, the touch of his warm skin and strong fingers sending a lance of pleasure and pain through her so sharp that she squeezed her eyes closed for a moment to ride it out.
When she opened them, he was closer, looking down at her with a question on his face. “I’ll come,” she managed to croak.
“Does it hurt you to move?” he asked.
“Hurt me?” She cleared her throat enough to say, “Oh, you mean the cuts. I barely notice them.”
