Forbidden Seductions. India Grey

had little to contribute.

      She’d wondered a couple of times if Sarah was speaking more loudly for her benefit. She was obviously suspicious of Cleo, and she and Dominic’s mother seemed to have a lot in common.

      Whatever, Cleo had been glad to leave the party herself at about 2 a.m. She hadn’t been tired, exactly, but she’d definitely had enough of being treated like the skeleton at the feast.

      Now it was a little before six, and she’d left the house with a feeling of deliverance. She’d wanted to get away; not just from Magnolia Hill, but from her thoughts.

      The tide was coming in. The cool water brushed against her toes, and Cleo kicked off her sandals and allowed the waves to swirl about her feet.

      She’d been mad to come down to the beach in high-heeled wedges anyway. But then, she was still wearing the dress she’d worn the evening before. Having spent the last three hours lying sleepless on her bed, it had seemed like too much trouble to change.

      She’d stopped to examine the pearly spiral of a conch shell when she felt the distinct vibration of footsteps on the sand.

      Lifting her head, she saw a man approaching, his profile still in distinct in the morning half-light. He was some distance away, but he was running in her direction. Long legs pumping rhythmically, arms swinging to match his muscular pace.

      It looked like Dominic, but it couldn’t be him. He had brought Sarah to the party. It was a cinch he’d taken her home. To his home, if she was any judge of the other girl’s intentions, thought Cleo ruefully. There was no way he’d have stayed at Magnolia Hill.

      But it was Dominic!

      As he drew nearer, Cleo recognised his height and his muscular build. Broad shoulders, narrow hips and a tight butt, she conceded reluctantly. Outlined to perfection in black Lycra shorts.

      He obviously enjoyed running, judging by the damp patches on his black cotton vest, and the streams of perspiration running down his chest. Despite the fact that she’d had no sleep, her adrenalin kicked up another notch.

      ‘Hi.’ Dominic slowed as he reached her, his eyes taking in the fact that she hadn’t changed from what she’d been wearing the night before. ‘Going somewhere special?’

      Cleo’s chin jutted. She wouldn’t allow him to make fun of her. ‘I haven’t been to bed,’ she said, as if that wasn’t already obvious. ‘I’m sorry. Is that a problem for you?’

      Privately Dominic thought it was one hell of a problem, judging from the way he reacted to her. But after last evening’s fiasco, he was determined to keep things simple.

      ‘Not for me,’ he said, bending forward and bracing himself with his hands on his knees to avoid looking at her. He was uncomfortably aware that his quickened heartbeat was as much mentally as physically induced.

      But eventually, he had to straighten. ‘So,’ he said evenly, ‘did you enjoy the party? I seem to remember the guest of honour disappeared.’

      Cleo forced herself to look at the horizon. The faintest trace of pink was brushing the ocean and she pretended an interest in the view. ‘I wasn’t the guest of honour,’ she said tensely. ‘Or if I was, your guests didn’t know it.’

      Dominic scowled. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? What did they say to you?’

      ‘Oh—nothing.’

      Cleo wished she hadn’t started this. Not when he was standing so close that the heat of his body enveloped her in its spell. She could smell his sweat; smell him; and her mouth was suddenly as dry as parchment. Even her legs felt unsteady as she met his accusing gaze.

      ‘Forget it,’ she said, trying to behave naturally. ‘Why aren’t you at—what was it you called your house—Pelican Bay?’ She paused, and then added brightly, ‘Did Sarah stay over as well?’

      Dominic ignored her question. ‘I want to know what’s upset you,’ he said. ‘Did my mother say something? Did Sarah?’

      ‘Heavens, no.’ Cleo spread her hands, not allowing herself to look at him again. ‘But, let’s face it, your guests didn’t just come to be polite. They were—curious. About me.’

      Dominic stifled a groan. ‘They were curious, sure—’

      ‘I rest my case.’ Cleo permitted herself another brief glance in his direction. ‘Curious—and suspicious. They think I want Jacob’s money!’ She made a sound of disgust. ‘If they only knew!’

      ‘Only knew what?’

      Dominic’s hand reached for her bare arm and instantly her skin felt as if he’d burned her. The pain that flared in the pit of her stomach was purely sexual, its fiery tendrils spreading down both her legs.

      She knew an urgent need to press herself against him, to allow the fever smouldering inside her to take control. But no matter how sorry he was, how sympathetic, he could do nothing physically to ease her pain.

      ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, stepping back from him, breaking his hold, and Dominic raked frustrated fingers though his hair.

      But it was just as well one of them had some sense, he conceded, even if he could have done without her conscience asserting itself right now.

      He felt the ache between his legs, glanced down and saw the unmistakable swell of his erection. What did this woman do to him? he wondered. One touch and his body took control.

      ‘I think you’re exaggerating people’s reactions,’ he said harshly, in an effort to ground himself. But even to his own ears, his voice was edged with strain.

      ‘Well, I don’t want your grandfather’s money,’ she said. ‘So tell that to whoever’s prepared to listen. I’ll be leaving here in a few days anyway. Then it won’t matter either way.’

      Dominic stared at her with anguished eyes. Dammit, he didn’t want to see her go. But to tell her that would be madness. He wasn’t interested in making that kind of commitment, to her or anyone else.

      He had to put any thought of a relationship between them out of his mind…

      With a muffled oath, he abandoned any attempt to reason with her. Turning, he plunged into the water, hoping against hope that the ocean would ease his mangled emotions.

      Cleo’s lips parted in astonishment when she saw what he was doing. Dominic had gone into the water still wearing his vest and shorts. Was he mad or simply reckless? Why did it matter so much what he did?

      She stared after him, watching as he struck out strongly into the current. The weight of his clothes didn’t appear to hamper his progress, but she was anxious just the same.

      Allowing herself to tread a little deeper into the shallows, she wished she had the nerve to do something reckless. And as the salty water swirled about her ankles, she could feel the erratic beating of her heart.

      Dominic had almost disappeared. His head appeared only fleetingly above the waves. She prayed he knew what he was doing. That he had the sense to know when to turn back.

      A thin line of gold was fringing the horizon now, and in the growing light she saw—much to her relief—that he was swimming back to shore. She envied him his skill, the strength with which his arms attacked the waves and defeated them. He looked like a dark, powerful predator moving through the water, and she knew if she had any sense she’d be long gone before he reached the beach.

      But still she waited.

      Dominic reached the shallows and, pushing himself to his feet, he walked towards her. He was dripping water every where, from his hair, from his arms, from his legs. Even from his lashes as he blinked to clear his gaze.

      Pushing his hair back with both hands, he caught Cleo’s gaze and held it. He knew she’d been watching him, had felt her staring at him, even with so many yards of ocean between them. And, as her eyes dropped down his body, he realised his swim