The Maverick Millionaire. Alison Roberts

and she turned away as Jake hooked his thumbs into the waistband and started peeling the wet fabric from his skin.

      She’d seen enough.

      Too much.

      * * *

      Nobody had undressed Jake Logan without his invitation since he’d been about two years old and had kicked his nanny to demonstrate his desire for independence.

      Except for when he’d been in the care of the army medics, of course, and then of the nurses in the military hospital back home. He’d flirted wickedly with those nurses, making a joke of the humiliation of being helpless.

      He couldn’t have flirted to save his life when Ellie had been struggling with that zipper. He’d been looking down at her bent head. The rope of black hair was still dripping wet, but the fronds that the wind had whipped free were starting to dry and they were softening the outlines of her face. Or they would have been if it wasn’t set in such grim lines of determination.

      She really didn’t want to be touching him, did she? This was an ordeal she was forcing herself to get through because she had no choice.

      Like being unrecognised, this was an alien experience for a man almost bored by the way women threw themselves at him. Not a pleasant experience either, but it wasn’t humiliation or even embarrassment that was so overwhelming. He couldn’t begin to identify what it was he was feeling. He just knew that it was powerful enough to be disturbing.

      Very disturbing.

      The choice of trousers was embarrassing with the only pair he had any hope of fitting being shapeless track pants that didn’t cover his ankles. At least the socks looked long and he could be grateful there were no paparazzi around.

      ‘What will we do with the wet gear?’

      Ellie had taken the lamp down from the hook on the ceiling and was pouring something from a plastic bottle into its base.

      ‘We’ll hang them over the chairs. They might be dry enough to get back into by the time we get rescued from here.’

      ‘How long do you reckon that’ll be?’

      Ellie had the glass cover off the lamp now. She struck a match and held it to a wick. ‘We had a lot of info coming in about the cyclone while we were in the air. The worst of it won’t hit until early tomorrow, but it should blow through within about twelve hours.’

      The flame caught and Ellie eased the glass cover back into place. She fiddled with an attachment to the base, pumping it gently, and suddenly the light increased to a glow that seemed like a spotlight focused on her. As she looked up and caught his gaze, a hint of a smile made her lips curve. ‘It’s going to get worse before it gets better, I’m afraid.’

      Jake’s mouth felt suddenly dry.

      Even the hint of a smile transformed Ellie’s face. Made it come alive.

      She was an extraordinarily beautiful woman. He could actually feel something slamming shut in his chest. Or his head maybe.

      Don’t go there. Don’t get sucked in. Even if she doesn’t know who you are, it’s not worth the risk.

      Remember what happened last time.

      But Ellie stretched to hang the lamp from its hook and the unbuttoned sleeves of her oversize shirt fell back to expose slim, olive-brown arms. Long, clever fingers made another adjustment to the base of the lamp.

      Jake couldn’t drag his gaze free.

      Yeah...it probably was going to get worse before it got better.

      But he could deal with it.

      He had to.