Fugitive Bride. Miranda Lee

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      ‘Hot and bothered’ did not begin to describe her at that moment, her discomfort not helped by this amazingly good-looking man who kept staring at her.

      Not at her flushed face, however. At her…

      A panicky downward glance confirmed that one of her braless breasts was clearly outlined against a patch of damp cotton, the startlingly erect nipple making a real exhibition of itself.

      Embarrassment snapped Leah’s hands together across her chest, the inadequately shielding handle of the mop clasped between them.

      ‘Yes, it is,’ she said, hating her high-pitched voice. ‘But Mike and Pete aren’t here at the moment.’

      ‘Mike and Pete?’

      Leah gulped down the lump in her throat and gathered a modicum of composure. ‘My brothers. They own the boat. They should be back soon. They went trail-bike riding with some mates early this morning.’ Which was the only time to go, before the heat of the day. If living on the Queensland coast had one major drawback it was the sometimes debilitating humidity.

      ‘And left you to do all the dirty work, I see.’

      Leah didn’t like the criticism in the stranger’s words. No one was allowed to criticise her brothers except herself! ‘Not at all,’ she defended. ‘They work hard and deserve a morning off. It’s just that I have an aversion to washing floors. Any other cleaning job I’ll do quite willingly. But not floors.’

      ‘In that case I promise never to ask you to wash my floors.’ He smiled widely at her, his blue eyes dancing.

      Leah found herself smiling back, even while her heart fluttered and her stomach flipped over. Never had a man affected her like this. There again, never had a man like this come to Hidden Bay before.

      They didn’t call the bay ‘Hidden’ for nothing. The pear-shaped cove was well disguised from the sea by overlapping headlands, high hills and thick vegetation. A small community of whalers had settled there a hundred years before, the protected bay a perfect sanctuary for their boats during the cyclone season.

      Nowadays it only boasted about two hundred permanent residents. The electricity had finally been connected a few years back, and last year they’d celebrated the first sealed road leading out of the place, finally giving the world access without having to use a four-wheel drive.

      Despite such stunning progress, not many outsiders knew of Hidden Bay’s existence, and those who did guarded its location like a guilty secret. There were several families from down south who came up for their holidays during the cooler months, putting up with the lack of facilities in exchange for no pollution, warm waters and perfect peace and quiet. They’d begun arriving last week.

      Despite his casual gear, the man standing before Leah didn’t look as if he was attached to those intrepid holidaymakers, who were salt-of-the-earth types, people who liked nothing better than to sit around a campfire after a lazy day fishing, drinking a tinnie or two and discussing the ones who’d got away.

      Leah suspected this fellow was used to more sophisticated pastimes. There was something about the cut and grooming of his thick black wavy hair which shouted money. That gold watch on his wrist looked very expensive as well, as did the wraparound sunglasses dangling from his left hand.

      She wondered what on earth he was doing here, and why he wanted to hire her brothers’ boat. There seemed only one likely explanation.

      ‘I suppose you want Mike and Pete to take you deep-sea fishing,’ she said, more of a statement than a question. They did get the odd marlin-manic millionaire finding his way to their boat charter business, hoping that the less-fished waters would provide some spectacular catches. But in truth the ocean just off Hidden Bay rarely gave up its really big fish. But there were loads of coral trout, red emperor and snapper to be had.

      ‘No, I’m not interested in fishing,’ he said.

      ‘Well, we don’t do holiday cruises, if that’s what you’re looking for. Only fishing charters.’

      ‘That’s all right. I don’t want a holiday cruise, either,’ he said, his gaze travelling over her from head to toe a second time.

      Leah had always had to put up with a degree of male attention, being tall, blonde and pretty, with a good figure. Normally she didn’t mind, except when the male in question was being really objectionable. Her over-protective older brothers, however, always went ballistic.

      Ever since their parents had passed away they’d assumed the roles of her guardians with a vengeance, being incredibly strict for two modern lads who thought nothing of the fact that they were both sleeping with their girlfriends—both of whom weren’t much older than Leah.

      If a local lad had the temerity to ask their kid sister out, he was issued with such dire warnings that Leah’s relationships with the opposite sex never lasted long. Never got off the ground, really.

      She was a week short of twenty and still a virgin.

      Not that she minded her inexperience. She’d never thought she was missing out on anything. In truth, she’d never felt the slightest inclination to go beyond kissing and hand-holding with any male.

      Till now…

      ‘Well, what do you want, then?’ she asked, mildly exasperated and more than a little agitated by the alien feelings flooding through her.

      ‘Just to have a good look around the bay,’ he said coolly, even while his eyes kept eating her up. ‘I’d heard about this place, but had no idea it had such hidden… treasures.’

      Leah could hardly believe the messages he was sending, both with his smouldering blue gaze and this last astonishing double entendre. She stared back at him, beyond blushing now, beyond anything but savouring the seductive thought that this incredibly handsome, suave, sexy, assured man seemed to be finding her as irresistibly attractive as she found him.

      ‘My name’s Gerard, by the way,’ he said, climbing over onto the deck of the boat and holding out his large tanned hand. ‘Gerard Woodward.’

      ‘Leah,’ she returned breathlessly, and placed her own slender and slightly shaking fingers within the confines of his longer and much stronger grip. ‘Leah… um… um…’ Panic set in as her befuddled brain blankly scoured her memory for her own silly surname!

      ‘Leah Um-Um,’ he said teasingly. ‘What an interesting name.’

      The blush rushed back, hotter than ever.

      ‘It’s White,’ she blurted out at last. ‘Leah White.’ Dear Heaven, but why did she have to make a fool of herself in front of him?

      ‘Well, Leah White,’ he said, his smile soft and warm, ‘I think that’s a very nice name and suits you admirably. But Woodward would be better.’

      ‘Woodward?’

      ‘That’s my name. Have you forgotten it already? What fun it will be to tell our children that when their mother met their father she forgot her own name, and then his.’

      ‘Our children?’ she choked out.

      ‘You do СКАЧАТЬ