she didn’t need to worry about her safety, because he wasn’t the sort of man to force her.
Repressing a shudder at old memories, she wondered why she was so sure.
For one thing, the blonde woman in her skimpy black shift would be only too eager to indulge him if all he wanted was a quick fling. And, judging by various covert glances Taryn had intercepted, several other women at dinner wouldn’t mind being seduced by his muscled elegance and magnetic impact.
But what convinced her was his restraint, his complete self-discipline when he’d kissed her. She’d dissolved into a puddle of sensation, and he’d known it, but he’d not tried to persuade her into bed.
Her physical safety was not an issue.
So how about her emotions? Was she falling in love?
Restlessness forced her out from the tumbled sheets. She pushed back a swathe of filmy mosquito netting and walked across to the window, staring out at a tropical fantasy in silver and black, the moon’s path across the lagoon as bright as the stars in the Milky Way.
No, this passionate madness had very little to do with love. Love needed time; it had taken her several months to realise she loved Antony.
She let the curtain drop and went back to bed. That love, however sincere, hadn’t been enough, and she’d been sufficiently scarred to believe she lacked passion. She’d accepted Antony’s disillusioned statements as truths.
Possibly that was why she hadn’t seen anything more than cheerful camaraderie in Peter’s attitude to her.
Bitterly, uselessly, she rued her mistaken impression that he’d been joking when he’d asked her to marry him. She was still haunted by her last sight of him—smiling as she’d waved goodbye and turned into the Departures area of the airport.
A few hours later he was dead. Why? The often-asked question hammered pitilessly at her.
Why hadn’t he confided in her? They’d been friends—
good
friends—and she might have been able to help.
Oh, who was she kidding? Peter hadn’t wanted friendship; he’d wanted love. If she’d given in to his pleading she’d have been replaying the wretchedness of herengagement, because she hadn’t desired him—not as she desired Cade …
Cade’s presence had pushed memories of Peter to the back of her mind. He was vital, compelling in a way that completely overshadowed Peter. Guilt lay like a heavy weight on her mind, in her heart—an emotion she’d never appease.
She sighed, turning to push the sheet back from her sticky body. The netting swayed in the flower-scented breeze. She felt heavy and hungry, aching with a need so potent she felt it in every cell.
Cade—tall and dark, and almost forbidding in his uncompromising masculinity, yet capable of consideration. Cade, who possibly wanted an affair.
Cade, who made her body sing like nothing she’d ever experienced before …
A stray thought drifted by, silken with forbidden temptation. What if she embarked on an affair with him?
She didn’t dare risk it.
And why, when she’d loved Antony, had his passion never stirred her as Cade’s kisses did? Dreamily, she recalled how it felt to be locked in Cade’s arms, shivering with eager delight.
When sleep finally claimed her it was long after midnight. The next thing she knew was a voice saying incisively, ‘Taryn, wake up!’
She opened her eyes, blinked at a steel-blue gaze and bolted upright. ‘Wha—?’
‘You’ve overslept,’ Cade said curtly, and turned and left the room.
Stunned, still lost in the dream she’d been enjoying, Taryn stared around her.
Why hadn’t her alarm gone off?
Leaning over, she pushed back the hair from her face so she could check, only to bite back a shocked word and twist off the bed.
She hadn’t heard the alarm because last night she’d forgotten to set it.
And she’d forgotten to set it because she’d been too dazzled by Cade’s kisses to think straight.
So much for professionalism!
Not only that, she’d kicked off her
Repressing a shudder at old memories, she wondered why she was so sure.
For one thing, the blonde woman in her skimpy black shift would be only too eager to indulge him if all he wanted was a quick fling. And, judging by various covert glances Taryn had intercepted, several other women at dinner wouldn’t mind being seduced by his muscled elegance and magnetic impact.
But what convinced her was his restraint, his complete self-discipline when he’d kissed her. She’d dissolved into a puddle of sensation, and he’d known it, but he’d not tried to persuade her into bed.
Her physical safety was not an issue.
So how about her emotions? Was she falling in love?
Restlessness forced her out from the tumbled sheets. She pushed back a swathe of filmy mosquito netting and walked across to the window, staring out at a tropical fantasy in silver and black, the moon’s path across the lagoon as bright as the stars in the Milky Way.
No, this passionate madness had very little to do with love. Love needed time; it had taken her several months to realise she loved Antony.
She let the curtain drop and went back to bed. That love, however sincere, hadn’t been enough, and she’d been sufficiently scarred to believe she lacked passion. She’d accepted Antony’s disillusioned statements as truths.
Possibly that was why she hadn’t seen anything more than cheerful camaraderie in Peter’s attitude to her.
Bitterly, uselessly, she rued her mistaken impression that he’d been joking when he’d asked her to marry him. She was still haunted by her last sight of him—smiling as she’d waved goodbye and turned into the Departures area of the airport.
A few hours later he was dead. Why? The often-asked question hammered pitilessly at her.
Why hadn’t he confided in her? They’d been friends—
good
friends—and she might have been able to help.
Oh, who was she kidding? Peter hadn’t wanted friendship; he’d wanted love. If she’d given in to his pleading she’d have been replaying the wretchedness of herengagement, because she hadn’t desired him—not as she desired Cade …
Cade’s presence had pushed memories of Peter to the back of her mind. He was vital, compelling in a way that completely overshadowed Peter. Guilt lay like a heavy weight on her mind, in her heart—an emotion she’d never appease.
She sighed, turning to push the sheet back from her sticky body. The netting swayed in the flower-scented breeze. She felt heavy and hungry, aching with a need so potent she felt it in every cell.
Cade—tall and dark, and almost forbidding in his uncompromising masculinity, yet capable of consideration. Cade, who possibly wanted an affair.
Cade, who made her body sing like nothing she’d ever experienced before …
A stray thought drifted by, silken with forbidden temptation. What if she embarked on an affair with him?
She didn’t dare risk it.
And why, when she’d loved Antony, had his passion never stirred her as Cade’s kisses did? Dreamily, she recalled how it felt to be locked in Cade’s arms, shivering with eager delight.
When sleep finally claimed her it was long after midnight. The next thing she knew was a voice saying incisively, ‘Taryn, wake up!’
She opened her eyes, blinked at a steel-blue gaze and bolted upright. ‘Wha—?’
‘You’ve overslept,’ Cade said curtly, and turned and left the room.
Stunned, still lost in the dream she’d been enjoying, Taryn stared around her.
Why hadn’t her alarm gone off?
Leaning over, she pushed back the hair from her face so she could check, only to bite back a shocked word and twist off the bed.
She hadn’t heard the alarm because last night she’d forgotten to set it.
And she’d forgotten to set it because she’d been too dazzled by Cade’s kisses to think straight.
So much for professionalism!
Not only that, she’d kicked off her
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