One Summer At The Beach: Pleasured by the Secret Millionaire / Not-So-Perfect Princess / Wedding at Pelican Beach. Melissa McClone

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СКАЧАТЬ the nurses’ stations, or the new interns. Addressing a bunch of women who were sending a variety of looks from under their lashes wasn’t something that intimidated or really even interested him. What interested him was that one woman.

      ‘Is Sienna here?’ He addressed them collectively.

      ‘Sure is.’ He recognised the speaker as one of the friends at the bar the night before.

      It was like the parting of the Red Sea. He looked where they separated and to where she sat on a bottom bunk, quiet and red-faced. Her annoyance and embarrassment were obvious and, yes, her upset. What was she afraid of? Surely not him?

      She stood. ‘Rhys, you can’t come in here.’

      ‘Bet you want to, though, don’t you?’ The South African again. Caustic delivery.

      Rhys ignored the stifled giggles. Time to turn on the charm. He was a Maitland—had the genes, the upbringing. He might loathe it but public speaking was a skill he could call on.

      ‘I’m sorry to butt in on you ladies, but I need to explain something to my friend here.’ He didn’t take his eyes off Sienna, but sensed the slight hostility in the room. It was as clear to them as it was to him that she was feeling edgy and that he was the cause. He needed to claim back some points—penitent man would be a good start. ‘You see—’ he gave a small shrug ‘—I owe her an apology.’ He didn’t know what for yet but they didn’t need to know that.

      All seven heads swivelled to Sienna. He felt the atmosphere soften.

      ‘You want to say sorry?’

      ‘Yeah. I’d say it all right now but I need some time with her to explain things properly. Alone.’

      He swallowed his smile at her obvious discomfort. Her big blues were fixed on him and the incredulity warring with anger was unbelievably amusing.

      ‘This is way better than any movie.’ A different South African this time, she got a low murmur of agreement.

      Sienna’s cheeks were redder than a fire engine. ‘Stop it, Rhys.’ She addressed the girls. ‘It’s me who owes the apology. Again.’ Contrite eyes pleaded with him and the rest of the room. Hmm. She was good. A little honesty mixed in with a sidestep.

      She turned back to him. ‘I’m sorry, Rhys.’

      He heard the finality she was striving for and tensed. He wasn’t about to let her go. ‘Let’s get coffee and talk.’

      ‘I can’t now. I’ve promised to go to an art gallery with Brooke this afternoon.’

      He was not letting her slip away a third time—he’d have his answers. ‘That’s OK. You can make it up to me later.’ He studied the now silent audience. They could be more of a help to him than her if he played it right. ‘Don’t you think she should?’ He cast a soulful gaze around; it wasn’t much of a stretch to play the part of crushed suitor—not hard at all given he actually felt it.

      ‘Oh, yeah, Sienna. You must.’

      He had them now, eating out of his palm.

      ‘Give the guy a break.’

      ‘She’ll see you later at that bar.’ Caustic South African again. More on his side than he’d realised. ‘We’ll make sure she’s there. Six p.m. Have her drink waiting.’

      ‘Yes, ma’am.’

      He didn’t stick around to let Sienna try to argue, but her eyes flashed her thoughts in the final moment he met them. Anxiety, anger, reluctance—and, at the bottom of it all, desire.

CHAPTER SIX

      SIENNA didn’t go to the gallery. She went shopping. She was pathetic. But she wanted him again so badly and she wanted it to be as good as the night before. So she was on a mission for a new top—anything that might work. She stopped at the make-up counter. Stage make-up could create a fabulous scar—couldn’t it hide one too? She tried on a variety of in-season style tops. There was none with a polo neck. Everything was summery—low-cut and revealing. Exactly what she didn’t want.

      In despair she went to the lingerie section of the department store. New frillies were supposed to help with confidence, weren’t they?

      ‘How was the gallery?’ Rhys was waiting. Clad in jeans and a different shirt. Cool beer in a glass, half empty already. Steely eyes lanced her with questions that she knew he wouldn’t hold back on. That she knew she was going to have to answer. Honestly.

      ‘I didn’t go. Went shopping instead.’

      ‘Buy anything interesting?’

      ‘No.’ A new bra. She was wearing it now. Figured if she was going to go down she might as well do it in a hot outfit. And her sensible travel numbers didn’t have the requisite lace ratio. This one did. She could feel her budded nipples pressing against the slightly scratchy stitching even now.

      ‘Sienna—’

      She didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want the pretence. Didn’t want the girls from the hostel, whom she hardly knew, watching and wondering. This was going to end in tears—for her anyway. She might as well just get it over with right now.

      She grabbed him by the hand. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

      He let her lead, walking beside her but in the direction of her choice. She marched down the street not having a clue where she was headed. Just wanting away from eyes and those memories only recently made but that were going to be the best of a lifetime. Right now she was going to ruin them.

      The contact of his hand around hers meant her blood was travelling at high speed to every outlying inch. Making her feel more aware of her body, making her feel more alive than she ever had. It didn’t frighten her. It seduced her. Frustration and want and bitterness forced her. She wanted him enough to risk it.

      She went into the alleyway a shop down from the hostel. Ducked into a doorway partly along. Turned to face him. He was right behind her.

      ‘Sienna?’

      She shut him up with her mouth, passionately pressing against him. His arms clamped around her. He pivoted to lean against the door, taking her weight with him. Hot, intense, searing kisses—as if the moment on the beach had never been interrupted, only intensified. Burning, aching, she swept her hands across his shoulders, rotated against him, driving her hips against his. Wanting to reconnect, taking his mouth with a depth of passion she relished and wanted to relive again and again.

      He jerked his head back. ‘What the hell is going on, Sienna?’

      She pulled him back to her. Not wanting to think. Not wanting to admit to anything just yet. Wanting to drown her doubts for moments longer in his kiss.

      ‘You want this?’ He groaned against her. ‘You want me? Say it.’

      ‘Yes.’ She clawed him closer. ‘I want you.’

      His fingers pulled in her hair, holding her still so he СКАЧАТЬ