The Hot-Headed Virgin: The Virgin's Price / The Greek's Virgin / The Italian Billionaire's Virgin. Trish Morey

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      Mia woke to brilliant sunshine and the chorus of birds, the distant roll of the ocean in the distance filling her with instant energy. She tossed the sheet aside and came up short when she saw her suitcase next to the built-in wardrobe. Bryn must have brought it in during the night or the early hours of the morning.

      A feathery sensation passed over her at the thought of him seeing her sleeping in that big bed, perhaps uncovered and totally vulnerable. She’d been hot during the night and recalled throwing the sheet off at one point until the cooler air of the morning had made her reach for it again.

      She gave herself a mental shake and quickly unpacked a bikini and a two-piece sports outfit and trainers from her case and dressed quickly, tying her hair in a high pony-tail.

      The house was quiet as she came downstairs but she saw signs of Bryn having had a cup of tea in the kitchen. The kettle was still warm and his cup was rinsed and placed upside down on the draining board.

      She heard the clang of weights below her in the gym downstairs and pictured him working out, no doubt lifting three times her body weight as if it were nothing. She decided against joining him. She’d seen enough of his body last night and didn’t need reminding of how fabulously toned and muscled he was.

      Besides, it was a beautiful day and she could hear the ocean calling. Hard exercise was what she needed to clear her mind from the disturbing images that kept creeping in. Images of her pinned intimately by Bryn’s hard body, his hips moving in time with hers as they both climbed towards the summit of sensual release. She could imagine he would be an exciting and demanding lover; every time he’d touched her she’d felt the hot charge of sexual energy pass from his body to hers.

      She let out a frustrated breath and set a brisk pace as she ran down the steps leading to the footpath to the beach.

      There were a few surfers already out riding the point break on Main Beach and she jogged along until she came to the pathway leading to Noosa National Park. She followed the coastal track looking out over Laguna Bay and then on to Boiling Pot and Dolphin Point, the growing heat of the morning making her turn just past Winch Cove to head into the cooler shadows of the melaleuca and tea-tree forest.

      The honey-sweet smell of the white-canopied bush filled her nostrils as she jogged past gnarled banksias and spiky pandanus. Bush turkeys scratched around the undergrowth and overhead she heard the flap of large wings and looked up to see a pair of glossy black cockatoos flying past.

      Further along the track she passed a young couple who were walking hand in hand, their easy-going, loving chatter striking a note of regret in Mia’s chest.

      How wonderful it would be to be loved like that, she thought. She wanted to be loved the way her sister Ashleigh was loved by her husband, Jake, the way her parents had loved each other for nearly thirty years.

      But what she wanted was impossible; Bryn wasn’t the thirty-year-relationship type. Thirty days was too long for him. He wasn’t interested in continuing their association past the point of his great-aunt’s death. And that could be a matter of just a few short months or possibly even weeks.

      The track veered back to Laguna Bay and Mia ran on down to Main Beach, and, leaving her shoes and outer gear on the sand, headed for the waves in her red and white bikini.

      She swam the length of the beach, which ran parallel to the popular shopping and restaurant strip of Hastings Street. She turned at the rocky outcrop at one end to go back the way she’d come, the water warm but still refreshing. Every so often a swelling wave would pick her up and let her down again in a gentle rolling movement before it gathered force on its way to the shore.

      The sun burned down with intense summer heat and when she waded back through the wash to the sand she could see the numbers on the beach had swelled. Young children were playing at the water’s edge with buckets and spades, their parents close by, where several colourful umbrellas were already up in defence against the scorching rays of the sun.

      She sat and looked out to sea, hoping for a moment to gather her thoughts before returning to Bryn’s house. But even after sitting there soaking up the warmth of the sun for several minutes she had to finally acknowledge that her vigorous run and swim hadn’t been able to do what she’d hoped they would do. It was impossible to avoid any longer the truth that was as persistent as the waves as they drummed against the shore.

      She couldn’t escape it any more; there was no running away from it even if she ran around the world and back twice over.

      She was in love with Bryn Dwyer.

      She wasn’t sure how it had happened. She had thought him the most detestable man alive and yet somehow over the past few weeks he had become the very focus of her life. She couldn’t imagine how her life was going to be without him in it once their marriage was brought to its inevitable end. How would she cope with hearing him on the radio every weekday or reading his acerbic comments in his weekly column? Perhaps once his great-aunt was no longer around he would even joke about his publicity stunt, making a fool of Mia in front of the whole of Sydney, telling his listeners he’d married a twenty-four-year-old virgin who couldn’t act to save herself.

      ‘I thought I might find you down here.’ Bryn’s deep voice suddenly sounded above her.

      Mia looked up at him in surprise. ‘I…I went for a run…’

      His eyes swept over her reddened features. ‘So I see.’

      She turned back to the sea. The sight of him in nothing but a pair of board shorts and trainers was far too unsettling. ‘I’ve just had a swim and now I think I’ll have a little sun-bake for a while.’

      ‘Have you had breakfast?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Aren’t you hungry?’

      ‘No,’ she lied.

      ‘Have you had something to drink?’

      ‘No…’

      He stretched out the large beach towel he’d brought with him next to where she was sitting. ‘Here, lie down on that and I’ll go and get you some water.’

      Mia turned onto her stomach so she could watch him as he walked back along the promenade to a café on Hastings Street. She saw several female heads turning as he went past, his tanned and muscular but lean frame obviously as attractive to others as it was to her. She gave a little sigh and rested her chin on her hands and closed her eyes.

      He came back in a few minutes with a bottle of water and some fresh fruit salad and handed them both to her.

      She met his eyes briefly. ‘Thank you.’

      He sat down on the edge of the towel and looked out to sea. ‘How did you sleep?’

      ‘Fine,’ she said between mouthfuls of juicy mango and tangy pineapple. ‘I like listening to the sound of the ocean. It puts me to sleep every time.’

      Bryn wished he could say the same for himself. He’d spent a great deal of the night tossing and turning restlessly, his body still on fire. When he’d taken her bag into her room once she was asleep it had been all he could do not to join her in the bed and pull her into his arms. His desire for her was beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. It gnawed at him relentlessly, making his body ache to possess СКАЧАТЬ