Free Taken by the Pirate Tycoon by Daphne Clair

Samantha’s sleek style into unruly strands blowing every which way. The persistent roar and thump and hiss of the waves, and the shrill calls of gulls circling and swooping overhead made conversation unnecessary. The wind on Samantha’s face felt like a blessing, and the damp sand soothed her feet.
    She fell into a dreamlike state of uncomplicated bliss. There was nothing quite like a long, lonely shore for clearing the mind and replenishing the spirit.
    Jase picked up a gnarled piece of driftwood and took a few steps towards the water, hurled the stick into a retreating wave laced with foamy white, then returned to Samantha’s side.
    The wind gusted briefly, raising gooseflesh on her arms so that she shivered and crossed them, rubbing the skin.
    “Cold?” Jase said. “We can go back.”
    “Not really,” she said. The gust had passed. “Let’s go on to the end.”
    “Suits me.”
    There were masses of tiny black mussels clinging to the rocks, and she put on her shoes as Jase found a foothold and climbed, then turned and offered her his hand as she followed.She hesitated before letting him pull her the rest of the way. His hand was strong and warm, and she stifled a rush of purely female appreciation at the ease with which he brought her up to his side.
    They stood on a rock outcrop, where the waves beat against the far end, sending spray high in the air to splash down on the edge. Behind them loomed a rugged cliff edged with tenacious plants hanging over its lip, and at its foot a shallow cave held the blackened remains of a fire. Someone had barbecued their catch here perhaps, fresh from the sea.
    Samantha picked her way over uneven rocks to a deep pool where small silver fish darted away from her shadow to disappear among seaweed and anemones, and crabs disguised in borrowed shells crawled across its sandy floor.
    A bright blue starfish clung to the rock, and she squatted to inspect it. Then she spotted another, half hidden by gently waving seaweed.
    Jase went on one knee beside her. “What are you looking at?”
    She pointed, and he said, “Uh-huh. Pretty.”
    “When I was eight…”
    She stopped there and Jase turned from admiring the starfish to look at her. “What?”
    “Nothing. Just a memory from way back.”
    “Tell me,” he said. It was almost a command, so compelling she very nearly capitulated. But caution prevailed.
    She gave a light laugh and stood up, the backs of her knees stiff from crouching, and faced him again as he too rose. “You didn’t bring me out here to bore you with stories of my childhood holidays.” She’d had a sudden vivid memory of staying over part of the Christmas holidays with a school friend’s family.
    Her friend’s parents had thought nothing of the childrenspending all day in their swimming togs, playing on the shore, scrambling over rocks, tumbling down dunes and getting covered in gritty sand that had to be shaken out of all her clothes and shoes when she got home. Her mother had despaired at the effect of sun and sand and salt water on her fine, flyaway hair, and had been dismayed at the spattering of freckles that despite sunscreen had speckled her nose.
    But that holiday had been one of the happiest times of her life. She hadn’t thought about it in years, and now the memory brought an odd mixture of remembered happiness and a poignant sense of something lost. Childhood, she supposed.
    A breaker thudded against the rock, and tiny salt droplets flung into the air spattered wide and far and dusted her cheeks. She wiped them with a hand and said, “Shouldn’t we get back?”
    “Are you in a hurry?” Jase asked.
    “You said the tide’s coming in.”
    “It won’t be cutting us off yet, but if you’re nervous…” He shrugged and began walking back across the rock, turning his head to check on her as she followed.
    Reaching the edge where he’d helped her to climb up, she saw it was too far down to jump, and searched for an easier way. Jase went