A Modern Cinderella. Kate Hardy

over her, looking down at her rear. Cassidy silently prayed for a tidal wave…

      ‘Why am I getting on my stomach?’

      ‘Because that’s what you do to paddle the board out far enough to catch an incoming wave…’

      Right. Except that statement presupposed she actually wanted to catch a wave—which frankly she didn’t. Waves shouldn’t be caught. Cassidy believed they should be allowed to roam the earth in freedom, with all their other wave friends. She might even start a campaign of some kind: Save the Wave. Catchy, she thought.

      She sighed heavily, focused her mind on another method of stalling Will, and came up with, ‘Maybe you should demonstrate first?’

      With a shake of his head that indicated he was fully aware of what she was doing, Will dropped onto the board, leaving her staring down at him in the same way she’d feared he would stare at her. Somehow she had the feeling her view was much better than his would be. Then he started to move his arms, and she became fascinated with the play of muscles on his tanned back. Was he working out nowadays? She didn’t remember him being so…toned…

      ‘Paddle evenly with both arms, and then turn and watch for a wave. Try to time it so you jump to your feet as it hits your board.’ He demonstrated by jumping lithely to his feet and reaching his arms out to his sides for balance. ‘Then use your feet to steer the board. If you shift your weight to your toes you’ll go one way; rock back onto your heels and you go the other.’

      He made it sound so easy. But his description of brain surgery would probably consist of Pop skull open, move jelly stuff around and put lid back on. Whereas Cassidy suspected her version of surfing would involve less of the standing up and more of the getting wet and spluttering as she tried to get salt water out of her lungs.

      ‘Your turn.’ Will stepped off the board and quirked his brows when she hesitated, his voice lowering and his eyes sparkling. ‘Chicken. Whatever happened to the hunger to learn and the spirit of adventure you used to have?’

      Cassidy threw another scowl at him, pursed her lips and lowered herself cautiously onto the board. ‘I really do hate you, you know.’

      ‘No, you don’t.’ He hunched down beside her.

      When she was on her stomach, she looked up at him in time to see his gaze rise from studying her body. It made her laugh. ‘Oh, yes, I do.’

      The first time she attempted jumping up to her feet she fell over, but managed to get a hand on the hot sand to help right herself. Will encouraged her with a low, ‘Try again.’

      The second time she fell on her rear, and frowned hard at his obvious amusement. He cleared his throat and held out a hand to help her up. ‘Again.’

      Cassidy growled at him. ‘When does it start to be fun, exactly?’

      The third time was the charm. She not only fell over, she fell on Will, and toppled him backwards onto the sand, creating a tangle of legs and forcing him to wrap her body in his arms. Yup—her run of incredible luck had continued. Because when she puffed air at the loose strand of hair that had got in her eyes and looked down her face was inches away from his. And he was smiling one of those smiles.

      Someone, somewhere really had it in for her.

      The heat from his bare chest seeped through the thin material of her shirt and made every cell of her body unbearably aware of where she was fitted against him. It was like being set on fire. She felt the lack of oxygen to her brain making her dizzy, felt the ache of physical awareness so keenly it almost snapped her in two. Then one large hand lifted, and impossibly gentle fingertips brushed her hair back and tucked the strand behind her ear.

      Cassidy felt her heart beating so hard against her sensitised breasts that she was certain Will must feel the erratic rhythm too. She needed to say something funny to break the tension—needed to move as far away from him as possible before he realised how damn turned on she was—needed—

      She saw his throat convulse before he took a deep breath that crushed her breasts tighter to the wall of his chest. ‘We should try again.’

      What? Her eyes widened at the words. He couldn’t possibly mean—

      Will studied her eyes, then rolled her to the side. ‘You need to pick a point in front of you to focus on as you jump onto your feet. That’ll make it easier to balance…’

      Struggling awkwardly to her feet while she felt her cheeks burning, Cassidy avoided his gaze and frowned at her foolishness—or her wishful thinking, or whatever it was that had made her heart leap the way it had. ‘If I can’t do this on dry land I don’t see how I stand a bat’s chance of doing it on moving water.’

      While she bent over to swipe the sand off her legs, Will’s deep voice sounded above her head. ‘Don’t give up so easy, Cass. Some things are worth the effort.’

      Her gaze shot up to tangle with his and he shrugged. ‘You love the ocean. Always did. Makes sense that anything that allows you to appreciate it more you’ll end up enjoying.’

      Several hours later she discovered he was right. The fact he’d been just the right degree of persuasive, determined and patient at varying stages to get her to that point had not gone unnoticed either. Any more than she’d failed to notice when he saw his theory on the transparency of her shirt when wet had been right too.

      It was her last attempt. She managed to stay upright long enough to ride the wave for several feet, and the exhilaration of achievement burst forth from her lips in joyous laughter at the same time as Will let out a victory yell. When she inevitably fell off and surfaced from the water, lifting her hands to smooth her wet hair back from her face as she grinned like an idiot, she looked up—and her grin faltered. He had hold of the board as he waded towards her, waist deep in water the same way she was. But then he lifted his chin, his gaze travelling across the foaming surface and sliding up her body oh-so-very-slowly.

      When he looked into her eyes the heat she could see both robbed her of her ability to breathe and slammed into her midriff with such force that the next wave almost made her lose her footing in the shifting sands.

      For the longest time they stared at each other. The ebb and flow of the tide dragging her abdomen back and forth was all too evocative, considering the ferocity of her physical desire, and eliciting a low moan from the base of her throat that the wind thankfully dragged away. Then Will frowned—hard—turning his head and looking out to sea so that Cassidy caught sight of a muscle moving in his clenched jaw.

      Almost in slow motion she saw him exerting control over himself. It was heartbreaking. Especially considering the fact that she was faced with the very image of him she’d conjured in her imagination when he had first told her he surfed. Standing there, with silvery rivulets of water running off his body, shining silvery in the bright sunshine, droplets of the same shimmering water falling from wet tendrils of the dark hair that clung to his forehead and the column of his neck. He was glorious. More than that, even. He was the most sensationally sexy man she had ever laid eyes on. And she had never wanted him as much as she did at that moment—while he’d taken a deep breath and got his self-control back in the blink of an eye.

      When he looked at her again the small smile on his full mouth didn’t make it all the way up into his eyes. ‘Told you you’d get it. Well done.’

      But Cassidy couldn’t let it go that easily. And the very fact he had so obviously been affected by her gave her enough of a subliminal confidence boost to take a step towards him. ‘Will—’

      His eyes narrowed at the husky edge of her voice. ‘I’m going to catch a few waves of my own. Be back in a while.’

      With that he turned away, got on the board, paddled further out to sea—and the moment was gone. He’d made it plain that whatever moment of remembered desire from the past he’d just experienced could be dismissed in a heartbeat. Men were supposed to think about sex at ridiculously regular intervals, so they said. Cassidy was merely a woman in the nearest equivalent of a wet T-shirt. She got that.

      But