smiled, a flash of strong white teeth against his swarthy skin. She couldn’t match it. Things were moving too fast.
She tried telling herself that if he could be as relaxed as this when he learned about Thea things would be okay, but she knew it wouldn’t be that simple.
SHE HAD TRIED to get hold of Thea the next day, before she set off with Damon, but Thea had been having breakfast before an early rehearsal for the afternoon concert. And now Lizzie was out of touch, clinging to a handrail on board Damon’s powerboat as they crashed through breakers as high as houses on the open sea.
He was full of surprises. The value of his air, sea, and land craft alone would fund a small country, with change to spare. He was standing at the helm, controlling the massive craft with one hand, as casually if its immense power was just another extension of his magic.
He looked more like a marauding brigand than a respectable billionaire, with his swarthy skin and unshaven face, she thought, taking in the ripped and faded shorts, his bare feet and faded top.
‘Have you never been on a powerboat before?’ he asked as she lurched towards him.
‘The closest I’ve come to this is the cross-Channel ferry.’
‘Then it’s time to widen your horizons.’
She murmured in reply. She’d tried that once before, and now she preferred to limit her horizons to Thea.
‘So, where are we going?’ she asked. ‘No—don’t turn to look at me!’ she yelped as Damon swung round. ‘Shouldn’t you be concentrating on where you’re going?’
He laughed. ‘I know exactly where I’m going.’
Yes. That was what she was afraid of, and she only wished she felt half so confident as Damon looked.
Having rebuilt her life, Lizzie controlled it within certain boundaries, but those boundaries seemed to be disappearing fast. Telling Thea about Damon and then explaining to Damon that he had a daughter had seemed so straightforward in the planning, but time was rushing past and she seemed no further on.
‘Is this our destination?’ she asked as he slowed the powerboat. It was beautiful. She stared around with interest at the picturesque bay.
‘It’s called Cove Krýstallo,’ Damon explained. ‘Or Crystal Cove. This area has always been a favourite of mine on the island, and now I’ve built a house here.’
And not just a house but the most magnificent dwelling Lizzie had ever seen, she thought as he eased back on the throttle. The mansion was built of blush-pink stone. Low built, to blend in with its surroundings, it was elegant and vast. It could be called a beach house, she supposed, because of its seafront position, but it was a beach house fit for a billionaire.
She was so far out of the customary modest rut that she shared with Thea, it was becoming ridiculous.
‘We’ll be back for two. I haven’t forgotten,’ Damon said as she frowned and shook her head with incredulity.
‘Thanks.’ She supposed she should be grateful that he couldn’t read her mind.
As he turned away to lower the anchor she took stock. Apart from her anxiety at being introduced to yet another example of Damon’s incredible wealth, the consequences of being alone with him in this secluded bay were finally coming home to her. It didn’t help when a rogue wave crashed against the hull and she lost her balance, cannoning into him. As he steadied her his touch woke memories better forgotten.
She pulled away self-consciously and was glad when he made a joke of it.
‘Lost your sea legs?’ he suggested, staring at her with amusement.
‘I don’t think I ever had any.’
She could still feel his touch, where his hand had lingered on her shoulder, and feel the heat created when he had stared into her eyes.
There was no point in aching for something she could never have back, Lizzie told herself firmly. And why would she want it back? The last time she’d had sex with Damon he’d enjoyed it, and then had cut loose and disappeared. Only Thea had made that night more than worthwhile.
Thea had made Lizzie’s life incalculably richer, while Damon had played no part in her life aside from that one night. And she wasn’t eighteen now, twisting her mother’s dying wish for Lizzie to have a better and more adventurous life into an excuse to have sex with Damon here in his private cove.
‘Race you to shore?’ he suggested, straightening up after checking the anchor was safely attached to the seabed.
‘Do you need a head start?’ she suggested, straight-faced. It wasn’t too far to shore, and she was confident of her abilities in the water.
He laughed, and the ache of longing inside her increased.
‘I’ll give you a ten-minute head start,’ he offered, with the same deadpan expression.
‘You’ll be sorry,’ she warned with a laugh.
She was wearing a bikini beneath her shorts and top, and quickly stripped off.
Damon’s look scorched over her. Ignoring how that made her feel, she climbed onto the rail, telling herself that if ever there had been a need for the refreshing shock of chilly water, this was it.
She caught a glimpse of Damon’s half-smile as he watched her dive in. She also saw the power in his thighs and in his shoulders and back, and the taut outline of his buttocks beneath his faded denim shorts.
The next thing she knew she was shrieking with excitement as she surfaced. The all-embracing chill of the ocean after the balmy warmth on deck was just the reboot she needed. Kicking off strongly, she headed for the shore, with no thought in her head other than to get there before him.
She trod water to look back, only to see him closing in fast. She set off again, with the excitement of the chase driving her now. She was a strong swimmer, and competitive, but even with the waterproof pack containing their picnic to hamper him Damon was slicing through the water like an arrow. He soon passed her, and only slowed when he’d reached the shallows, where he stood and turned to watch her power in.
‘Not bad,’ he commented. ‘But I’ll carry you the rest of the way.’
‘You will not,’ she protested and, finding her feet, stood up.
She shrieked in complaint as Damon ignored her and swung her into his arms.
‘Put me down,’ she said, pummelling him as she struggled to break free. It was like beating her fists against rock.
‘If I put you down you’ll cut your feet on the shells,’ he said.
‘And you’ve got hooves?’ she shot back.
He laughed.
She’d forgotten how strong he was. Fighting him only brought her into more intimate contact with him. But still she couldn’t give up. ‘I’m not a baby, Damon. Put me down—’
‘And I’m not a nursemaid to waste my time bandaging your feet.’
Thwarted, she went as stiff as a board and tried her best not to relax against him. It wasn’t so easy to forget the last time Damon had carried her like this—which had been out of his shower and back to bed on the morning of her father’s trial. They’d made love again, and then he’d told her he had an appointment to keep.
She’d thought nothing of it at the time…until she’d seen him in the courtroom. If she’d learned one thing from that experience, it was that Damon could be ruthless.
He put her down on the cool, damp, close-knit moss above the shoreline. Dropping the