It Started With A Kiss. Miranda Lee

of freshly cut flowers.

      ‘Sorry I’m a bit late,’ she apologised as she looked him up and down. Without contempt this time. ‘I had this sudden worry that you might have forgotten some essential items so I stopped off at a twenty-four hour chemist on the way.’

      He grinned at her. ‘Not necessary. They were the first thing I packed. But no worry. We won’t run out now, will we? Which might have been a possibility if you’re going to look as delicious as you look this morning all the time. Love the pink. Love the hair. But I especially love that perfume.’

      Isabel tried not to let her head be turned by his compliments. Men like Rafe were always good with the charm.

      At the same time, she’d come here today determined to enjoy what he had to offer. Cancelling everything for the wedding had been infinitely depressing, as had Luke’s call telling her that he and Celia were now officially engaged. Isabel was in quite desperate need to be admired and desired, both of which she could see reflected in Rafe’s gorgeous brown eyes.

      ‘It’s new,’ she told him brightly. ‘So are the clothes. I splashed out.’

      That had been the only positive thing to happen during the last fortnight—Luke coming good with his promise to set her up financially. To give him credit, he hadn’t let the grass grow under his feet in that regard. Guilt, no doubt.

      Still, she was now the proud owner of a brilliant portfolio of blue-chip stock and shares, the deed to the Turramurra town house and a bonus wad of cash, some of which she’d recklessly spent on a wild new resort wardrobe. She’d given the more conservative clothes she’d bought to take on her honeymoon with Luke to Rachel, who was grateful, but wasn’t sure where she’d ever get to wear them.

      ‘You should splash out more often,’ Rafe told her. ‘I like the less formal you.’

      ‘And I’ve always liked the less formal you,’ she quipped back.

      He was wearing fawn cargo slacks and a multi-coloured Hawaiian shirt, his bare feet housed in brown sandals. He must have shaved some time since she last saw him, but not that morning. Still, he looked and smelt shower-fresh, his silver phantom earring sparkling in the sunshine.

      He smiled and rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. ‘You could have fooled me. So you like it rough, do you?’

      ‘No lady would ever answer such a question,’ she chided in mock reproof.

      ‘And no gentleman would ask it,’ he said, smiling cheekily. ‘Happily for you, I’m no gentleman.’

      ‘I’m sure you have your gentle side. Now, stop with the chit-chat and put your bag in here. If we don’t get going we’ll miss the plane.’

      ‘Nah. At this hour on a Sunday morning we’ll be at the airport in no time flat. The plane doesn’t go till ten, does it?’ he asked as he swung his one suitcase in beside her two.

      ‘No,’ she said, and slammed the hatchback down.

      ‘Then we have time for this.’

      When he pulled her abruptly into his arms, Isabel stiffened for a second. But only for a second. What was the point in making some silly show of resisting? This was why she found him so attractive, wasn’t it? Because this was the kind of thing he would do.

      Not like Luke. Luke always asked. He never took. Luke was a gentleman.

      Not such a gentleman with Celia, however. He’d whisked her into bed before you could say Bob’s your uncle! A matter of chemistry, Isabel realised.

      As Rafe’s lips covered hers, Isabel knew the chemistry between them was similarly explosive.

      Sparks definitely flew and her head spun.

      This was what she craved! Forceful lips and an even more forceful tongue. She leant into him, wanting more. She moaned before she could stop herself.

      Rafe was startled by her response. The way she melted against him. The way she moaned. Wow, this was no ice princess. This was one hot babe he had in his arms!

      When his head lifted, she made a small sound of protest.

      He gave her one final peck on her wetly parted lips before putting her away from him. ‘I can see this is going to be one fantastic holiday, honey,’ he murmured throatily. ‘But perhaps you’re right. Perhaps we should get going before we really do miss that plane.’

      Isabel hoped she wasn’t blushing. She’d done enough blushing since meeting this man. Blushing was for female fools. And wishy-washy wimps. Not for a woman who’d decided to fashion her own destiny in every way.

      So Rafe turned her on with effortless ease. Good. That was his job for the next fortnight.

      But what about after that? she wondered, throwing him a hungry glance as she climbed back in behind the wheel. Mmm, she would see. Maybe she would keep his number in her little black book for the occasional night of carnal pleasure. Depending on how good he was at the real thing. If his kissing technique was anything to go by, she was in for some incredible sex.

      Rafe didn’t know quite what to make of the smug little smile which crossed that pink mouth.

      Frankly, he didn’t know what to make of Ms Isabel Hunt at all!

      But he wasn’t going to worry about it. He’d lost enough sleep over her this last two weeks. The next fortnight was going to be a big improvement, particularly in the insomnia department. He always slept like a log after sex.

      ‘So, who did you tell your mother you were going away with?’ he asked as soon as they were on their way.

      She slanted him a curious look. ‘What makes you sure I told her anything?’

      ‘I have a mother,’ he said drily. ‘I know what they’re like. They want to know the ins and outs of everything. Often, you have to resort to little white lies to keep them happy. I keep telling my mother that the only reason I haven’t married is because I haven’t met the right girl yet.’

      ‘And that works for you?’

      ‘I have to confess it’s losing its credibility. I think by the time I’m forty she’ll resort to taking out ads for me in the newspapers. You know the kind. “Attractive single male seeks companionship view matrimony from attractive single female. Must be able to cook well and like children.’”

      ‘If she does, I might answer. I cook very well and I adore children.’

      ‘Very funny, Isabel. Now answer the question. Who is supposed to be going with you?’

      ‘Rachel.’

      ‘Who’s Rachel?’

      ‘My best friend. The one who was going to wear my wine-red bridesmaid gown.’

      ‘And your mother believed you were taking a woman to Dream Island with you?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Wow. My mother would never have believed that.’

      ‘That you were taking a woman to Dream Island?’

      ‘My, aren’t we witty today?’

      She smiled. ‘Amongst other things.’

      ‘What other things?’

      ‘Excited. Are you excited, Rafe?’

      He stared over at her. What was he getting himself into here? Whatever it was, it was communicating itself to that part of himself which he’d been trying to control for fourteen interminable days and nights.

      ‘That’s putting it mildly,’ he confessed.

      Her head turned and their eyes locked for a moment. He’d never felt a buzz like it. He could hardly wait.

      But wait he had to. For two hours at the airport when the plane to Cairns was delayed. Then another short delay at Cairns for the connecting helicopter flight to Dream