The Dare Collection: February 2018. Anne Marsh

daydreams left her skin prickled with goosebumps. She rubbed her arms, trying and failing to rub the unsettling thoughts from her mind. If she’d had all of that she wouldn’t be here now, with Alex. She wouldn’t know that his eyes sparked when he teased her, that he danced when he was happy and didn’t care if anyone saw him, or that on the mornings they awoke together he’d pad to the kitchen dressed only in boxers to make her a ‘proper cup of English tea’.

      The angry roar of an engine grabbed Libby from her reverie. She sat up in time to see Alex, his jet ski aimed at an oncoming wave, travelling at full throttle.

       What the hell?

      Libby’s stomach lurched into her throat. Her hand covered her mouth as his jet ski hit the wave head-on. The wall of water tossed the small craft into the air, flipping it upside down, and the hollow growl of the airborne engine ricocheted inside Libby’s skull until her eardrums threatened to perforate.

      Her mind blanked. Her body tensed on the very edge of the lounger while time slowed and Alex seemed suspended in mid-air for what felt like a year. And then, with a slap as it hit the surface, the jet ski righted itself, the somersault complete, and Alex raced over to Jack, hand raised with a fist-pump of victory.

      Icy shivers covered Libby’s body. Every hair rose to attention. Every muscle twitched. As her stomach settled back inside her abdomen where it belonged, allowing air inside her lungs, the epiphany struck.

      She loved him.

      She’d fallen in love with an adrenaline junkie. A man not content just to enjoy the thrill, but who wanted to push the boundaries to the limit. A limit that made her hands tremble and her vision darken.

      Libby reeled. She had to move. To do something with the restless energy boiling inside her.

      She reached for her sarong, slipping it on and gathering up her phone and a set of keys for one of the estate’s vehicles.

      Before she’d taken two steps she snapped her head round as another guttural roar cut through the warm air. Libby froze. Her feet stuck to the hot sand. Her eyes were glued to the unfolding drama.

      This somersault was higher, its angle, even to Libby’s untrained eye, more acute, and the wave to which Alex trusted his life bigger. As he disappeared from view over the crest Libby took off running.

      Her legs acted independently of her mind, her ears trained for the landing slap. It came, but the wave continued to roll ashore, obscuring her view. Had he made it? Was he unconscious? Bleeding? His lungs full of seawater?

      The wave broke and the orange hull of the capsized jet ski flashed. Her eyes scanned the water, her knees almost buckling when Alex surfaced, his arm raised with a wave to let them know he was okay. Within seconds Jack had cruised over to his cousin, the jet ski was righted and Alex had climbed back into the driver’s seat.

      But Libby was done.

      She’d seen enough to last her two lifetimes. The ice in her blood boiled. If he came in now she wouldn’t be responsible for the things she said. Changing direction, she hurried up the beach, the heat on her back and under her feet adding to the fury and impotence raging inside her.

      She needed time to think. She needed distance.

      Everything between them had happened so quickly, and now her feelings for Alex were spiralling out of control. She’d vowed after Callum’s funeral never to get this close again. But here she was, in love with a daredevil billionaire with a penchant for fast toys and dangerous sports. No. She couldn’t do it again. Refused to put herself through it.

      She’d loved Callum. She loved Alex. It terrified her to admit it, but if she didn’t she’d make the mistake of being led by her feelings, of succumbing to their insidious allure.

      She arrived at one of the vehicles, her hand trembling on the automatic lock. Alex and Jack would have the truck and trailer, so they could get back to the château in time for the wedding. But she had to get away.

      If she had to watch Alex do that again… No.

      She gunned the engine. She didn’t know the way back, but the car was top of the range and fitted with GPS. And right now, with all the turmoil pounding through her, getting lost for a few hours wasn’t such a bad idea.

      She didn’t want Alex to worry about her when he discovered her missing, so she plugged her phone into the hands-free and set off. He’d call when he came ashore and she’d text him when she’d calmed down.

      She drove, the twisting coastal road that hugged the cliffs a perfect distraction from her riotous thoughts. Halfway back to the château a call came in. But it was Vinnie’s voice that startled her.

      ‘Libby? Sonya’s been admitted to hospital. I thought you should know.’

      Stunned, Libby indicated and pulled off the road, killing the engine. ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘All’s well, but her blood pressure is high. They’ll be inducing labour in the morning.’

      She pressed her forefinger to her throbbing temple, her mind flying between thinking of all the necessary arrangements and concern for her friend and her unborn child.

      ‘Change my flight, Vinnie.’

      ‘Sonya said to tell you she’s fine. It’s just a precaution because she’s at term.’

      Libby used a tone he’d understand. ‘Get me on the next flight home.’

      A pause. Then, ‘Sure.’

      She hung up and pulled back onto the road, breaking a few French traffic laws.

      Yes, she probably had time to wait for Alex to return, to explain why she’d left him at the beach and why she was leaving France earlier than she’d planned. But, whether she’d asked or not, Sonya needed her. And would voicing her views on Alex’s reckless behaviour change anything? Did she even want to change him? The problem was hers.

      She swallowed, her throat hot and her eyes stinging. Cowardice won. She chose to run.