triathlons?’
‘Yes, something to wear me out.’ He nodded. ‘Something to focus on outside of work.’
Well, it sure explained the heightened definition his body had.
She sat still and quiet, listening to the water, looking back at the golden sand and the brilliant blue sky. Eventually she relaxed enough to let her fingers trail in the water, watching the island spread wide before her, until she couldn’t contain her rapture a moment longer. ‘It’s incredibly beautiful, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is.’
She glanced at him. ‘You’re not even looking.’
‘Yes, I am.’
Right at her.
She rolled her eyes. OK, so the out-for-fun Seb
was back in full force. ‘You’d say anything to get a leg over, wouldn’t you, Seb?’
‘Why don’t you believe you’re beautiful?’
Because she wasn’t. And she’d had years of her aunt emphasising the point. She didn’t fit in with the family’s perfect, petite, feminine form. She was the prune in the peanut jar. She was going to roll her eyes again but suddenly realised how far away from Zanzibar they’d gone. ‘You’d better turn back, Seb. I don’t care how fit you think you are, I don’t want to be adrift in the ocean for days.’
‘We’re not going back,’ he said. ‘We’re going there.’
‘What?’ She turned and saw how close they were to another, much smaller island.
Seb’s words were wicked. ‘You didn’t think I was going to spend another night on the ground or squashed up on one of those hard bunks, did you?’
She sat up so quick the kayak rocked. ‘But our packs—’
‘Are being transported by another boat. They’re probably there already. We came the slow, scenic route.’
‘You’re unbelievable.’
‘Oh, admit it, secretly you’re thrilled.’
She looked at the beach they were about to wash up on. Oh, yes. Not even secretly. ‘What is this place?’
‘This is Mnemba, an exclusive little island. We have our own luxury banda, our own bit of beach and our own butler.’
They had their own butler? That was crazy—what was the guy going to do all day? Besides her Africa trip was all but over. ‘Seb, we’re supposed to go back to Dar tomorrow.’
‘I’ve changed the bookings.’
‘What?’
‘We have another few days.’
Another few days? Oh, no. Another night she could cope with, but not more. ‘But I didn’t even get to say goodbye to the others on tour.’
‘They know my plan—at least, Bundy did. He’ll have told the others.’
‘But I have to catch my flight back to the UK.’
‘Give me the details and I’ll get it changed. We’ll fly back together.’
She hesitated. That wouldn’t be a good idea. But then she looked across the water to the beaming man waiting for them, evidently their butler, and beyond to the buildings dotted in the trees. As if anyone could say no to this?
Hamim, their butler, greeted them with true finesse and a wide smile. He offered his hand to Ana as she splashed through the shallows and led her straight to their private apartment. ‘You are a model?’
‘No.’ She shook her head and laughed.
‘We get a lot of models stay here. And you have the height, you are as beautiful—if not more so. So I thought…’ His smile was even wider.
Oh, please.
‘Actually—’ Ana smiled brightly back at him and pointed to Seb ‘— he’s the model.’
The butler took that one in his stride, inclined his head and left them to discover their accommodation alone.
Ana turned to face the laughing Seb. ‘How much did you pay him?’
Seb held his hands up in innocence. ‘Nothing.’
Yeah, right.
‘Come on,’ he challenged. ‘Let’s check out the facilities.’
In other words go straight to the bedroom.
The view out over the Indian Ocean was open and stunning, and yet there was complete privacy. The furniture was intricately carved and there was comfort in everything. But her bones melted at the sight of the bed—so wide and big.
But it could barely be halfway to
Jess Oppenheimer, Gregg Oppenheimer