Love Islands: Forbidden Consequences. Natalie AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
luxury four-wheel drive. Sitting in the driver’s seat, his short hair ruffled by the wind, he looked casual and elegant in an open-necked white shirt and pale biscuit linen trousers; a matching jacket lay folded on the back seat.
A hotel doorman hurried over to open the door for her. The high step into the vehicle meant she was glad of his helping hand.
As she got in beside him the nervous tension he had picked up on from a distance was more pronounced. Not the first thing he noticed about her, of course. He felt heat slither through his body leaving a molten trail that pooled hotly in his groin before he looked away.
‘Sorry if you were expecting a limo—’
‘I wasn’t,’ she said in a voice that lacked all intonation. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Someone recommended a place close by, but apparently the roads this side of the island require a four-wheel drive so—’ He left the sentence incomplete and looked at her hard for longer than was polite. She didn’t turn her head but she could feel his stare.
She was taken aback when he said, almost accusingly, ‘You smell of something...flowers...?’
She raised her arm to her face and held the inner aspect of her wrist to her nose, only getting the faintest suggestion of rose. He must have an ultra-sensitive nose or maybe he just hated the light citrusy perfume. Her slender shoulders lifted. ‘My soap.’ It was one she had used since she was a little girl.
She had used it that night and left the scent on the pillow, Ben thought.
As she struggled with her seat belt he turned his head, his hungry glance taking in the tumble of her glorious burnished loose hair swept over one shoulder. She was wearing a green dress that exposed her beautiful collarbones, shoulders and the delicate curve of her upper spine. As she leaned a little more forward adjusting her seat belt, her silky hair slithered around her face, revealing her neck. He turned his head sharply. When he began to fantasise about the back of a woman’s neck it was time to—to what exactly? He shook himself. He was here to negotiate custody terms, not sex.
It was not going to be easy and Ben knew he could not afford to blur the lines or allow himself to be distracted. It was basic logic in the art of negotiation.
‘Sorry I’m early.’ He glanced in the rear-view mirror and pulled out between the palms.
‘You weren’t. I got the note and the message.’
The tetchy note raised a lopsided grin. ‘I don’t like to be kept waiting.’
‘Now there’s a surprise.’
‘I suggest you hang on.’
She ignored the comment but a couple of minutes later decided to put safety above pride and grabbed hold of the handrail.
‘I’m told there won’t be enough room outside the place to park,’ Ben explained as he pulled the car up a short while later within sight of a magically pretty harbour. ‘Can your heels cope with the cobbles?’
Struggling not to react as she felt his eyes on her legs, Lily brushed her hand up and down the skirt of the green halter-necked dress she wore before she uncrossed her ankles.
‘I’m not wearing heels. I’ll be fine,’ she said, thinking, This was such a bad idea. ‘I wasn’t expecting dinner or—’
‘Neutral territory seemed like a good idea,’ he returned smoothly. ‘And we have to eat. Relax, it’s not a date.’
‘I never thought it was.’ She jumped down unaided before he made it around to her side. He held out a hand to help her regain her balance after her foot caught in a pothole. The road was littered with them. That was what had made the journey so bumpy—the last half-mile had been on a dirt track.
Lily conspicuously avoided his hand and eased her spine straight. She felt as though she had been riding a bucking bronco, but on the plus side negotiating the road with its hair-pin bends and the occasional oncoming vehicle on the wrong side of the road had meant he wasn’t inclined to make conversation. All that had changed: now she faced an evening of careful negotiation, of compromise.
She couldn’t afford to relax her guard for an instant, Lily reminded herself as she lifted her chin. She would not be bullied; this was going to be on her terms.
As they began to walk down the hill there was a loud blast of laughter from the harbour area. Lily turned her head in response to the sound. In the moonlight her delicate cut-glass profile made Ben catch his breath as, slim and graceful, she stepped ahead.
He lengthened his stride and, conscious of his presence beside her, Lily lost the fight against the compulsion to look up at him. In the darkness his face was all angles and planes. She looked away quickly, afraid that he’d see the shameful ache of hunger she felt when she looked at him.
‘Careful, this bit is steep.’ He caught her elbow, seeing her eyes widen revealingly at the contact that sent an electric thrill through his body too. ‘So how was it?’
‘What?’
‘Your massage.’
With no warning an image scrolled through her head, hands strong and brown, clever long fingers kneading her flesh, and she almost stumbled. It would have taken more than a massage to iron out the knots in her neck and shoulders.
‘Very relaxing,’ she lied.
The cobbled surface became more even as they entered the harbour. The transition from the empty road, fringed by rain forest, to the lively little harbour, strung with coloured lanterns and lined with cafés and bars, was abrupt. The laid-back café atmosphere was a world away from the luxurious but carefully manicured world of the hotel. Lily preferred it—or she would have, had the circumstances that brought her here been less fraught.
Ben led her directly to a restaurant that had tables set out on a platform over the water.
‘I thought you’d like to sit outside?’ he said as they were led by a smiling waiter to a relatively private table at the water’s edge. Muted sounds of jazz playing from inside mingled with the sound of the water lapping against the harbour wall. It was relaxing. ‘Apparently the food is good.’
She huffed an impatient sigh. Why was he pretending this was civilised? ‘I’m not hungry.’
Elbows resting on the table, he leaned forward. It was a small table and their knees almost touched under it. Lily fought the urge to lean back; instead she sat bolt upright in her chair.
‘This doesn’t have to be so hard.’
Without warning, a fly-on-the-wall image of herself sitting astride Ben, her hands on his hot, damp skin, drawing hoarse cries from his parted lips, flashed into her head. She pressed a hand to her throat, felt the sweat pool in the hollow between her breasts and picked up the menu, wishing it were big enough to hide behind.
‘I’m not hungry,’ she repeated flatly.
He shrugged and sat back. ‘Suit yourself.’
She watched, indignant that he seemed so relaxed, as he calmly scanned the menu. It appeared to be written entirely in French, and he ordered in the same language.
Connecting with the smoky green eyes regarding him with hostile suspicion above the menu, Ben arched a brow.
‘I’ll just have a salad,’ she said to the waiter.
Ben waited until the young man had left before saying, ‘I’ve spoken to my lawyer.’
The word sent alarm bells off. Thoughts of custody battles spinning through her head, she pulled herself back from the brink of panic.
‘Water?’
She nodded and ran her tongue across her dry lips. ‘Please,’ and added, ‘Lawyer?’
‘He’s making the necessary changes to my will.’
She