Free Paradise Found by Nancy Loyan Page A

below. A sitting room, bedroom and ceramic-tiled bath created the suite. Victoria admired the antique sari cloth upholstery and bedclothes. A filmy mosquito net surrounded the bed, mostly for effect as the island experienced few of the nasty insects. Open windows, French doors and overhead fans created cool breezes.
    “Though the home is air conditioned, I prefer the sounds and touch of nature,” Daemon explained. “If you prefer, you may close up your suite and turn on the thermostat.”
    “I prefer nature, too.” Another thing they had in common. “After all, I grew up without air conditioning.”
    “I’ll leave you alone to rest. Lunch will be served in an hour and than we can journey down to the beach for some sun and fun.” He winked before exiting and closing the door behind.
    She sat on the bed, contemplating the suite. She could easily adapt to this place and had to wash the thought out of her mind.
     

 
    Chapter 8
     
    Anse Source D’Argent was by far Victoria’s favorite beach in the entire Seychelles Island chain. There was something about the massive gray granite boulders that tumbled down from the mountainside, smoothly sculpted by weather and time. They jutted up from the white sand beach like sentinels keeping watch over sunbathers and swimmers and creating private coves for intimate encounters. Palm trees jutted up from the natural stone sculptures and swayed over the beach, softening the environment.
    Victoria scanned the sandy shore. Tourists chattered in Italian, French and German. Tiny Speedos barely covered potbellies on the men. Women in all shapes and sizes were topless. On one corner of the beach, near precariously balanced boulders, a fashion shoot was taking place. Scantily clothed models posed for enthusiastic photographers, while assistants maneuvered foil umbrellas, redirecting the strong sunlight.
    “You know, you could easily be a part of that shoot,” Daemon said, pulling his polo over his head.
    Victoria met his gaze but couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering to his tanned and sculpted chest and abs. And the scar. The scar that snaked its way across his torso and disappeared into the waistband of his shorts. His heroism, the medal. What price had he paid? She had to admit that the boxer-style swim shorts were more attractive than tight, skimpy Speedos. After all, wasn’t what was in the shorts that mattered? The thought made her color rise.
    Daemon stood staring at her with a quizzical look on his face. Adjusting the halter strap of her one-piece suit and securing the short matching pareo at her waist, she walked into the surf. The water was the warmest she had ever felt, next to a bath. As she walked into the water, sand led to crushed shell and seaweed. The water, though was like silk against her skin. She turned to face the beach and watched Daemon come toward her.
    “You know, you should never turn your back on the ocean,” he warned, splashing water as he joined her.
    “I guess I’ve been away so long, I forgot.” Standing waist-deep, she scooped up handfuls of water and splashed him, watching the droplets glisten on his chest and arms. In the sunlight, the droplets sparkled like crystals.
    “Now you asked for it.” He laughed, drawing her up in his arms and wading out deeper into the ocean.
    Instead of protesting, she looped her arms about his neck, holding tight as the water skimmed the bottom of her suit. Without warning, he lifted her up. She released her hold on him just as he heaved her out into the water. Warm salt water engulfed her and she buoyed to the surface. She wiped water from her face and slicked back her drenched hair.
    “That wasn’t fair,” she protested.
    “It was fun, though. You had to get wet sometime.” A mischievous grin plastered on his face. “I suppose there are other ways of getting you wet, though.”
    The grin and the sparkle in his eyes gave her a warm tingle, even when immersed in the tepid water. The man was impossible.
    She