A Masterful Man. Lindsay Armstrong

tightened her mouth but out of the corner of her eye noticed that a couple strolling along the beach had stopped and were watching them interestedly. ‘Damn,’ she muttered, and then, ‘All right, but you don’t have to hang on to me as if I was a prisoner.’

      So she had another swim and was perversely pleased that she was able to go out as far he did and do everything he did but of course, pride often comes before a fall she was to remember later. Her downfall came in the form of a dumper which caught them both by surprise but he reacted faster and, with all the strength he was capable of, grabbed her just as she was about to cartwheel into the sand and held her safe in his arms as the wave surged beneath them. He then coasted gently into the shore, still holding her. They lay together in the shallows as she spluttered a bit and took some deep breaths to restore air to her lungs.

      ‘Davina?’ he said after a few moments.

      ‘Mmm...?’

      ‘OK?’

      ‘Yes,’ she panted. ‘Thanks—I haven’t been dumped for years.’

      ‘That’s why Blinkys can be a bit tricky sometimes.’

      ‘I believe you.’ She stopped abruptly, and her eyes widened as she realised she was lying cradled against Steve Warwick with gentle wavelets washing up to their waists, and realised that her body fitted against his as if it had been made for it, that their legs had somehow got entwined and that she felt wet and silky where their skin touched, protected and safe in the circle of his arms yet with every inch of her body aware of his and stirred by that awareness. And, finally, aware that she was not alone in this reaction...

      They parted by mutual consent, and wordlessly, a bare few moments later. But, while Steve Warwick released her and helped her up and did so expressionlessly, she felt a torrent of colour rushing up beneath her skin and her movements were a bit uncoordinated. She also turned abruptly to walk back up the beach but he said quietly, ‘No. At least rinse the sand off you. I’m in need of another swim.’

      He swam for at least ten minutes although she just dipped herself and walked back to her towel. But as she dried the moisture from her body and her hair, she couldn’t help wondering how she was ever going to face him again. How, for that matter, he would be when he came out... She pulled her shirt and shorts on with unsteady hands.

      He was perfectly normal. He made no mention of the fact that it had taken ten minutes of vigorous exercise in cold water to get himself in control—in fact all he said was, ‘What’s for dinner?’

      ‘R-roast beef. Oh! I’d better get going—’

      ‘Relax. It’s over an hour to dinner-time. Isn’t that plenty of time to roast a piece of beef?’

      ‘Yes, but I’ve still got to get there and there’s one hill between here and your house that needs to be walked up,’ she retorted with more spirit.

      He dried himself briefly and dragged on a T-shirt. ‘Then I am the answer to all your problems, Mrs Hastings,’ he said with humour as his head emerged.

      Davina tensed and he narrowed his eyes slightly as he stuck his arms through the sleeves. ‘I’ve got a bike rack on the back of the Land Rover, that’s all.’

      She bit her lip.

      * * *

      Davina went straight into the kitchen when they got to the house to put the meat on and while she was at it, got the vegetables ready and made her other preparations.

      Steve came into the kitchen as she was rinsing her hands. He’d showered and changed into long twill trousers and a blue open-necked shirt. ‘All in hand?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Then why don’t you have a shower while I make us a drink?’

      Davina faced him with uncertainty and wariness clouding her violet eyes. ‘I think I’d rather—’

      ‘Davina, I’m thirty-five,’ he interrupted pleasantly. ‘Which means to say I’ve had plenty of experience at practising self-control—if that’s what you’re worried about now.’

      She blushed. For the life of her she couldn’t help it and at the same time felt a streak of anger because she’d been so hoping he would continue to act as if what had happened on the beach hadn’t happened at all. To make matters worse, she could think of nothing to say.

      ‘Go on,’ he said mildly, after a moment. ‘Unless you’re proposing that we avoid each other entirely for a month?’

      She went with a toss of her head that brought a faint smile to his lips.

      * * *

      It took her twenty minutes to shower, wash her hair and blow dry it and get dressed into a loose, sleeveless, chalky blue cotton dress that floated around her as she walked. And, all the while, she sought rather desperately for some composure, but it was hard to beat the hollow feeling she had that she couldn’t blame her employer for the events on the beach because it was one of those things that had happened quite spontaneously—and mutually.