tropical fruits ladened the trees and sweetened the air. Birds filled the afternoon with a symphony of song. The surf lapped against the beach, the soothing sound melting over her like warm honey. Maggie called the
island Eden, and glancing toward the man who shared the island with her, she felt like Eve studying the apple. Rafe Malone was pure temptation.
Maggie sucked in a breath. This beautiful island, the privacy afforded by her grandfathers’ departure. The sea, the sand, the sun. The man. Life simply couldn’t get more romantic than this.
“I still can’t believe they did this,” Rafe said, rubbing his jaw with the palm of his hand.
He hadn’t shaved that morning. The dark stubble on his face and glare in his eyes as he gazed toward the horizon where the
Buccaneer’s Bliss
had disappeared made him look dangerous. Maggie grinned. She’d always liked that in a man. “You can’t believe they did what?”
“Left us here like this. Alone. After all that chin music they spouted about my staying away from you, and then they up and leave the fox in with the hen. It makes no sense.”
“Maybe they think they’ve frightened you into good behavior with their threats.”
He drawled, “Maggie, please. I’m serious.”
She’d like to please him. Seriously. “Papa Gus explained it all before they left. They had no choice but to leave us both here. Do you not believe them?”
“I believe them. It makes sense that they needed to scout for information and that the village is too dangerous a place for a man to visit alone or to take a woman. I can even understand that having a stranger like me along might cause their old friends to clam up.”
“So what else could they have done?”
Rafe didn’t have an answer for that because one didn’t exist.
“Quit your fretting and follow me, Malone. Do I have a treat for you! Have you ever tasted mango? I know of a tree not far off the beach.”
He sighed heavily and glanced back toward the sea. She heard him grumbling something about buccaneers and sea sirens, and a shiver of delight raced up her spine. Was that how he thought of her? A sea siren?
“No, I’ve never tasted a mango.”
“Then you’re in for a culinary adventure, Malone. Be happy about it, all right?”
He looked at Maggie, then back at the sea. After a moment, he shrugged. “You’re right. I came here looking for adventure, so I reckon I’d be a fool not to give it a try. Lead the way, Lorelei.”
Malone appeared to relax after that. He asked dozens of questions about the island and its vegetation. He climbed up a mahogany tree and shimmied down a long palm. He tasted each fruit she offered him and spent twenty minutes trying to figure his way into a coconut. Maggie shook her head in amusement when he finally whipped out his Texas Paterson and plugged it.
After that bit of excitement, Maggie led him to her favorite spot on the island, a calm green-water lagoon rimmed by a sugar sand beach. “This is where I swim. Actually, I do more standing and watching than swimming. There are thousands of fish in this lagoon. You won’t believe all the colors, Rafe. Come see.” She reached up to open the buttons on her bodice.
He caught her by the arm. “What in blazes are you doing?”
“I’m going swimming,” she said, looking at him in surprise. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
He winced as though in pain. “Do you wear the same thing when you swim as what you wear to take a mud bath?”
She wore one of the bathing sarongs she’d acquired during their last South Sea voyage. What did he…oh. Maggie remembered what she’d worn when she inadvertently shared a mud bath with Rafe Malone. Nothing. He thought she intended to strip down to the bare skin right here in front of him.
She found the idea intriguing but a little too advanced for the current stage of their relationship.
Rafe’s hand tightened around her arm. “Maggie St. John, are you inviting me to get naked with
island Eden, and glancing toward the man who shared the island with her, she felt like Eve studying the apple. Rafe Malone was pure temptation.
Maggie sucked in a breath. This beautiful island, the privacy afforded by her grandfathers’ departure. The sea, the sand, the sun. The man. Life simply couldn’t get more romantic than this.
“I still can’t believe they did this,” Rafe said, rubbing his jaw with the palm of his hand.
He hadn’t shaved that morning. The dark stubble on his face and glare in his eyes as he gazed toward the horizon where the
Buccaneer’s Bliss
had disappeared made him look dangerous. Maggie grinned. She’d always liked that in a man. “You can’t believe they did what?”
“Left us here like this. Alone. After all that chin music they spouted about my staying away from you, and then they up and leave the fox in with the hen. It makes no sense.”
“Maybe they think they’ve frightened you into good behavior with their threats.”
He drawled, “Maggie, please. I’m serious.”
She’d like to please him. Seriously. “Papa Gus explained it all before they left. They had no choice but to leave us both here. Do you not believe them?”
“I believe them. It makes sense that they needed to scout for information and that the village is too dangerous a place for a man to visit alone or to take a woman. I can even understand that having a stranger like me along might cause their old friends to clam up.”
“So what else could they have done?”
Rafe didn’t have an answer for that because one didn’t exist.
“Quit your fretting and follow me, Malone. Do I have a treat for you! Have you ever tasted mango? I know of a tree not far off the beach.”
He sighed heavily and glanced back toward the sea. She heard him grumbling something about buccaneers and sea sirens, and a shiver of delight raced up her spine. Was that how he thought of her? A sea siren?
“No, I’ve never tasted a mango.”
“Then you’re in for a culinary adventure, Malone. Be happy about it, all right?”
He looked at Maggie, then back at the sea. After a moment, he shrugged. “You’re right. I came here looking for adventure, so I reckon I’d be a fool not to give it a try. Lead the way, Lorelei.”
Malone appeared to relax after that. He asked dozens of questions about the island and its vegetation. He climbed up a mahogany tree and shimmied down a long palm. He tasted each fruit she offered him and spent twenty minutes trying to figure his way into a coconut. Maggie shook her head in amusement when he finally whipped out his Texas Paterson and plugged it.
After that bit of excitement, Maggie led him to her favorite spot on the island, a calm green-water lagoon rimmed by a sugar sand beach. “This is where I swim. Actually, I do more standing and watching than swimming. There are thousands of fish in this lagoon. You won’t believe all the colors, Rafe. Come see.” She reached up to open the buttons on her bodice.
He caught her by the arm. “What in blazes are you doing?”
“I’m going swimming,” she said, looking at him in surprise. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
He winced as though in pain. “Do you wear the same thing when you swim as what you wear to take a mud bath?”
She wore one of the bathing sarongs she’d acquired during their last South Sea voyage. What did he…oh. Maggie remembered what she’d worn when she inadvertently shared a mud bath with Rafe Malone. Nothing. He thought she intended to strip down to the bare skin right here in front of him.
She found the idea intriguing but a little too advanced for the current stage of their relationship.
Rafe’s hand tightened around her arm. “Maggie St. John, are you inviting me to get naked with
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