The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит

such change. Want more. Leo felt everything in him recoil at the thought. He didn’t do relationships, or intimacy, or emotion, or any of it, yet it seemed Alyse expected a little of all of the above.

      He could manage some conversation, he told himself. Some simple pursuits and pleasures...such as the consummation of their marriage. Perhaps he and his wife could find some sympathy with each other in bed. They certainly didn’t seem to have much out of it, although he was honest enough to admit he’d never really tried.

      He didn’t want to get to know Alyse. He didn’t want their relationship to be anything than what it was: a carefully managed façade. He never had.

      Yet now it seemed she wanted something else. Something more.

      Well, she wouldn’t get it. He didn’t have anything more to give. Suppressing a sigh, he took another sip of champagne. Why did a thought that had once comforted and strengthened him now make him only feel restless and on edge?

      * * *

      By the time they arrived in St Cristos, Alyse was feeling strung out and exhausted. She hated the constant tension she felt in Leo’s presence; before today, they’d only seen each other for various occasions, usually formal, and always with other people around. They’d never had more than a few hours in each other’s company at a time, and never more than a few minutes alone.

      She had hoped that when they were alone properly things would become more natural. They would chat, get to know one another, behave like normal, civil human beings. Except civility, in Leo’s world, was a cold-hearted, emotionless thing and Alyse didn’t think she could take much more of it.

      After their brief exchange on the jet they’d barely spoken, and they’d ridden in silence from the island’s tiny airstrip to the exclusive resort. Alyse stared out of the window at the verdant hills on the horizon, the palm trees fringing the narrow track with their fronds drooping to the ground. In the distance the sea glittered under an afternoon sun; it was seven hours behind Maldinia here.

      The resort came into view, a gracious grouping of thatched huts that looked both simple yet luxurious. The limo pulled to a stop and Alyse saw that all the staff was lined up outside the main hut, beaming and expectant.

      She knew the resort was closed to all other guests this week in order to give her and Leo maximum privacy, yet right now she felt too tired to sparkle and charm the crowd. She wanted to curl up into herself and hide.

      ‘Here we go,’ Leo murmured, and with a rather grim smile he helped her out of the limo.

      Alyse didn’t remember what she said to all the people assembled; she shook hands and murmured pleasantries and Leo put his arm around her, kissing her cheek to the sighs of several chambermaids. After what felt like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes, they were led to their guest quarters in a private cove.

      Alyse stood in the middle of the hut on its raised wooden platform and stared at the few, expensive furnishings: a couple of teak bureaux, a rattan chair and a huge bed with soft linen sheets. Mosquito netting was draped over the entrance, tied back now, so she had an unrestricted view of the sea lapping only a few metres away.

      There were no electrical outlets, she knew, no computers, televisions, telephones or mobile reception. Nothing to keep her and Leo from spending time with one another.

      Except Leo himself.

      ‘I think I’ll take a look around,’ Leo said. ‘Why don’t you get settled?’

      So much for spending time together. Alyse set about unpacking her cases, even though one of the resort staff had offered to do it for her. Right now she wanted to be alone.

      Unpacking her few outfits for their week on the Caribbean island didn’t take long, however, and after she’d finished she prowled restlessly around the hut, wishing Leo would return, yet half glad he hadn’t. His obvious lack of interest in so much as conversing with her was hard to take.

      Since Leo still wasn’t around she decided to go for a swim. With a twinge of self-consciousness, she changed into one of the bikinis that had been selected for her; she had not chosen or even seen any of the clothes in her cases, not even the shorts and tee-shirts.

      The bikini was a little more revealing than she would have liked but, shrugging aside any self-consciousness—she was alone, after all—she headed for the sea.

      The sand was silky under her bare feet, the water lapping her toes clear and warm. Standing there, gazing out at an endless horizon, Alyse felt just a little of the tension she’d been carrying lessen and her shoulders relaxed a fraction.

      Maybe when Leo returned they’d have that private conversation he’d resisted on the plane. She’d talk to him properly, explain that she didn’t want to act like strangers any more. If they couldn’t act as a normal husband and wife, at least they could be friends. Surely that would be more bearable than this horribly stilted awkwardness and avoidance?

      Taking a deep breath, she dove into the water, kicking her feet as she swam several metres underwater, enjoying the freedom and the silence of the world below the waves.

      When she surfaced, slicking her hair back from her face, she felt a jolt deep inside—for Leo was standing in the shallows, dressed only in board shorts as he gazed out at her.

      ‘I wondered when you’d come back up for air,’ he said, his eyes narrowed against the sun’s glare. ‘I didn’t know you were such a good swimmer.’

      She stood, for the water was still shallow there, and came up only to her waist. ‘There’s a lot we don’t know about each other.’

      Even from this distance she saw the heat flare in his eyes as his gaze roved over her bikini-clad body, rivulets of water coursing down her skin. She felt her own body react—muscles tautening, awareness firing through her, hope flaring. ‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘So there is.’

      Alyse’s heart started thudding even as she strove to sound natural. This was the first time she’d ever seen desire in Leo’s eyes, such blatant hunger. It thrilled her to the core, but it surprised and even scared her too, for there was something raw and untamed in Leo’s gaze, something she’d never seen from him before. Something she’d craved. When she spoke her voice came out in a husky whisper. ‘Do you want to have a swim?’

      ‘I think I might.’ He waded into the water, and her breath caught in her chest. He was so beautiful, his body hard, sculpted and perfect. He dove neatly into the sea, and she watched with mounting anticipation as he kicked through the water towards her, cutting through the waves to come to stand right next to her, the water lapping at his hips and running down his chest.

      He was close enough to feel the heat coming off his skin, to touch him, and she longed to press her hand or even her mouth against his damp chest, to catch the droplets of water with her tongue and taste the saltiness of his skin...

      Her heart felt as if it were pounding in her throat. ‘It’s lovely here, isn’t it?’ she commented, knowing she sounded inane. She didn’t know how to act, what to say. All she could do was feel—this overwhelming desire and, even more frighteningly, hope coursing through her. Hope that, if he felt this for her, there could be more. There would be.

      Yet now she couldn’t think about the more, only about the now. About the reality of the desire kindling in his eyes; her breath went shallow as he lifted one hand as if he would touch her. He’d never touched her without an audience.

      ‘It is lovely,’ Leo agreed in a low voice. He reached out then and touched her cheek and, even though she’d been expecting it, craving it, the caress still caught her by surprise so her breath came out in a ragged shudder.

      He stroked her cheek gently with one finger. ‘You’re lovely.’ She stared at him, ensnared by the heat of his gaze, the touch of his hand. She saw something hard in his gaze, something cynical in his smile, and she still couldn’t keep from wanting him. ‘I wonder,’ he mused softly, his finger still stroking her cheek, ‘How do you make something that’s been false, true? What’s fake, real?’