doing?’
‘Calm down.’
The feel of his muscular arms around her and the touch of his hard chest set up a series of tingling reactions in her body that made her writhe in his arms until she realised that her writhing was having just the opposite effect; he tightened his hold, pulling her more firmly against him. Instantly, she fell limp and allowed herself to be carried up to the veranda where he gently deposited her on one of the wicker chairs which were strewn at various intervals around the house.
‘I’m absolutely fine,’ she muttered through gritted teeth and was ignored as Ryan stooped down and removed her espadrilles.
His long fingers gently felt her foot and her ankle, which he ordered her to try and move.
‘I haven’t twisted anything!’ she exclaimed, trying to pull her foot out of his grasp while her treacherous body was tempted to go with the flow and succumb to the wonderful sensation of what his hands were doing.
‘No. If you had, you wouldn’t be able to move it.’
‘Exactly. So if you don’t mind …’
‘But you’re bruised.’ He was peering at her knee and then doing it again, sweeping her up and informing her that it was just as well to put no strain on it but that she needed cleaning up.
‘That’s something I can do myself.’ Her breasts were pushing against his chest and, good lord, her nipples were hardening as they scraped against the fabric of her bra, and between her legs felt damp. Every bit of her body was responding to him and she hated it. It terrified the life out of her. She just wanted him to put her down so that she could scuttle back to the safety of her bedroom, but instead he was carrying her through the house, up the short staircase that led to the wing of the house where he was staying and then—when it couldn’t get any worse as far as she was concerned—into his bedroom. Jamie closed her eyes and stifled a weak groan of despair.
She hadn’t been here yet. His room was huge and dominated by an impressive bed fashioned out of bamboo. The linen was a colourful medley of bold reds and blacks and looked positively threatening.
Beneath the window was a long sofa and he took her to it and sat her down.
‘Don’t move a muscle. I have a first-aid kit in the bathroom—hangover from my Boy Scout days.’
‘This is ridiculous—and you were never a Boy Scout!’
‘Of course I was!’ He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and through the open door Jamie glimpsed him rifling through a cupboard, searching out the first-aid kit. ‘I may even have earned a few badges.’ He reappeared with a small tin and knelt at her feet. ‘If you ever need a tent erecting, or a fire to be lit using only two pieces of wood, then I’m your man. Tsk, tsk—do you see those bruises on your knees? If you hadn’t been rushing off like a bat out of hell this would never have happened.’
Jamie clamped her teeth together and refrained from telling him that if he hadn’t appeared in front of her, broken her phone and then insisted on having a long, personal conversationwith her she wouldn’t have felt inclined to rush off and wouldn’t be sitting here now in his bedroom while he …
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, intending to block out the image of his down-bent head as he tended to her bruises, applying alcohol wipes to the surfaces, then antiseptic cream which he gently rubbed into her skin.
‘No good applying any plasters,’ he informed her. ‘You want the sun to dry out these cuts and scratches.’
‘Yep, okay. Thank you. I’ll leave now, if you don’t mind.’
‘Shall I carry you?’
Her eyes flew open and she saw that he was grinning at her.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘And to continue our conversation …’
‘To continue our conversation about
what
?’
‘About tomorrow, of course.’
She caught his eyes. He looked as innocent as the pure driven snow.
‘What about tomorrow?’ she stammered, walking towards the door.
‘Well, you were
‘Calm down.’
The feel of his muscular arms around her and the touch of his hard chest set up a series of tingling reactions in her body that made her writhe in his arms until she realised that her writhing was having just the opposite effect; he tightened his hold, pulling her more firmly against him. Instantly, she fell limp and allowed herself to be carried up to the veranda where he gently deposited her on one of the wicker chairs which were strewn at various intervals around the house.
‘I’m absolutely fine,’ she muttered through gritted teeth and was ignored as Ryan stooped down and removed her espadrilles.
His long fingers gently felt her foot and her ankle, which he ordered her to try and move.
‘I haven’t twisted anything!’ she exclaimed, trying to pull her foot out of his grasp while her treacherous body was tempted to go with the flow and succumb to the wonderful sensation of what his hands were doing.
‘No. If you had, you wouldn’t be able to move it.’
‘Exactly. So if you don’t mind …’
‘But you’re bruised.’ He was peering at her knee and then doing it again, sweeping her up and informing her that it was just as well to put no strain on it but that she needed cleaning up.
‘That’s something I can do myself.’ Her breasts were pushing against his chest and, good lord, her nipples were hardening as they scraped against the fabric of her bra, and between her legs felt damp. Every bit of her body was responding to him and she hated it. It terrified the life out of her. She just wanted him to put her down so that she could scuttle back to the safety of her bedroom, but instead he was carrying her through the house, up the short staircase that led to the wing of the house where he was staying and then—when it couldn’t get any worse as far as she was concerned—into his bedroom. Jamie closed her eyes and stifled a weak groan of despair.
She hadn’t been here yet. His room was huge and dominated by an impressive bed fashioned out of bamboo. The linen was a colourful medley of bold reds and blacks and looked positively threatening.
Beneath the window was a long sofa and he took her to it and sat her down.
‘Don’t move a muscle. I have a first-aid kit in the bathroom—hangover from my Boy Scout days.’
‘This is ridiculous—and you were never a Boy Scout!’
‘Of course I was!’ He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and through the open door Jamie glimpsed him rifling through a cupboard, searching out the first-aid kit. ‘I may even have earned a few badges.’ He reappeared with a small tin and knelt at her feet. ‘If you ever need a tent erecting, or a fire to be lit using only two pieces of wood, then I’m your man. Tsk, tsk—do you see those bruises on your knees? If you hadn’t been rushing off like a bat out of hell this would never have happened.’
Jamie clamped her teeth together and refrained from telling him that if he hadn’t appeared in front of her, broken her phone and then insisted on having a long, personal conversationwith her she wouldn’t have felt inclined to rush off and wouldn’t be sitting here now in his bedroom while he …
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, intending to block out the image of his down-bent head as he tended to her bruises, applying alcohol wipes to the surfaces, then antiseptic cream which he gently rubbed into her skin.
‘No good applying any plasters,’ he informed her. ‘You want the sun to dry out these cuts and scratches.’
‘Yep, okay. Thank you. I’ll leave now, if you don’t mind.’
‘Shall I carry you?’
Her eyes flew open and she saw that he was grinning at her.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘And to continue our conversation …’
‘To continue our conversation about
what
?’
‘About tomorrow, of course.’
She caught his eyes. He looked as innocent as the pure driven snow.
‘What about tomorrow?’ she stammered, walking towards the door.
‘Well, you were
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