Love Islands: Summer Kisses. Joanna Neil

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       CHAPTER THREE

      RACHEL WAS FURIOUS. She couldn’t wait to put some distance between her and Nathan.

      She rubbed the palm of her hand against her shorts. It was almost burning. The contact with his skin, the gentle feel of the hairs on his arms underneath her hand was something she hadn’t been ready for.

      It was hard enough being around him again. She felt catapulted into a situation she was unprepared for. In her distant daydreams, she’d been sure that if she’d ever met Nathan again she would have been ready. Mentally. And physically.

      She’d be wearing her best clothes. Something smart. Something professional. Her hair would have been washed and her make-up freshly applied. She would have practised how to casually say hello. All her responses would be easy, nonchalant. Or at least rehearsed over and over again so they would seem that way.

      She would have a five-minute conversation with him, wishing him well for the future, and then walk off into the distance with a little swing of her hips.

      She would be composed, controlled. He would never guess that her heart was breaking all over again. He would have no idea at all.

      But most of all there would be absolutely no touching. No touching at all. Because, in her head, that was the thing that would always break her.

      And she’d been right.

      Her hand started to shake. Rubbing it against her thigh was no use. No use at all.

      Her footsteps quickened on the descending path. The beach was only a matter of minutes away. A few of the crew members were already on the beach, sitting on the chairs. But the truth was she couldn’t stay here for long. In an hour’s time the celebrities would be split into two teams and dropped into the middle of the ocean.

      Their first challenge would be to row to the island. The winning team would be rewarded with better sleeping facilities and more edible food. The others would spend a night sleeping on the jungle floor. Just the thought of it made her shudder. The rangers had already pulled a few spiders as big as her hands from the ‘camp’ and a few snakes she had no intention of identifying. The book that Lewis had given her on poisonous creatures had photographs of them and then notes on antidotes, treatments and antivenoms. It wasn’t exactly fun bedtime reading.

      She climbed up onto one of the bar stools, which gave a little wobble. It seemed to be designed for people of an Amazonian stature. She looked down to the sandy matting beneath her.

      ‘What’ll it be?’ asked the guy behind the bar. He didn’t look like a traditional bartender. He looked like a guy running between about five different jobs. Most of the crew seemed to be doing more than one thing.

      ‘Remind me not to get too drunk. I don’t fancy falling off this bar stool. It’s a long way down.’

      The bartender smiled. ‘It’s okay. I know a handsome doc that will be able to patch you up.’

      She shook her head. ‘Absolutely not.’ She held out her hand. ‘Rachel Johnson. The other doc. And, believe me, he’s the last person who’d be patching me up.’

      ‘Len Kennedy. You don’t like Nathan? I’m surprised.’ He set a glass in front of her. ‘Don’t tell me. Diet soda or fruit juice?’

      She nodded ruefully. ‘You guessed it; I’ll be on duty soon. A diet cola will be fine.’ She watched as he poured and tossed in some ice, a slice of orange and a couple of straws.

      He watched while she took a sip. ‘Nathan seems like a good guy. What’s the problem?’ The bartender’s voice was steady with a curious edge. But it felt as if he’d just drawn a line in the sand as to where his loyalties lay. Great. She couldn’t even come to the bar for a drink.

      She gave her shoulders a shrug and took a sip through her straw. ‘Some might say it’s ancient history.’

      Her eyes met the guy in front of her. He was handsome, but a little rough around the edges. A scar snaked from his wrist to his elbow, he had a closely shorn head, a few days’ worth of stubble and eyes that had seen things they shouldn’t. She wondered what his story was.

      He gave her a knowing kind of smile. ‘Then maybe that’s the best place to leave it. Sometimes history should be just that—history.’

      She’d been wrong. He didn’t seem like a crazy crew member. He was a typical bartender. The kind that seemed to be able to read your mind and tell you exactly what you didn’t want to hear.

      She looked out at the perfect ocean. This place might not have the luxury facilities she’d been promised. But it was an incredibly beautiful setting. The kind of СКАЧАТЬ