Michelle Douglas - Miss Prim's Greek Island Fling

‘He’d go to the ends of the earth for someone he loved.’

That was true. She nodded.

‘See? A romantic.’

She’d never thought about it in those terms.

His phone on the table buzzed. She didn’t mean to look, but she saw the name Trixie flash up on the screen before Finn reached over and switched it off. Okay.

‘So...’ He dusted off his hands as if ready to take on the world. ‘What were you planning to do while you were here?’

Dear God. Think of nice, easy, relaxing things . ‘Um... I was going to lie on the beach and catch some rays—’ not love rays ‘—float about in the sea for a bit.’

‘Sounds good.’

Except he wouldn’t be content with lying around and floating, would he? He’d probably challenge himself to fifty laps out to the buoy and back every day. ‘Read a book.’

His lip curled. ‘Read a book?’

She tried not to wince at the scorn that threaded through his voice.

‘You come to one of the most beautiful places on earth to read a book ?’

She tried to stop her shoulders from inching up to her ears. ‘I like reading, and do you know how long it’s been since I read a book for pleasure?’

‘How long?’

‘Over a year,’ she mumbled.

He spread his hands. ‘If you like to read, why don’t you do more of it?’

Because she’d been working too hard. Because she’d let Thomas distract and manipulate her.

‘And what else?’

She searched her mind. ‘I don’t cook.’

He glanced at their now empty plates and one corner of his mouth hooked up. ‘So I’ve noticed.’

‘But I want to learn to cook...um...croissants.’

His brow furrowed. ‘Why?’

Because they took a long time to make, didn’t they? The pastry needed lots of rolling out, didn’t it? Which meant, if she could trick him into helping her, he’d be safe from harm while he was rolling out pastry. ‘Because I love them.’ That was true enough. ‘But I’ve had to be strict with myself.’

‘Strict, how?’

‘I’ve made a decision—in the interests of both my waistline and my heart health—that I’m only allowed to eat croissants that I make myself.’

He leaned back and let loose with a long low whistle. ‘Wow, Squ—Audra! You really know how to let your hair down and party, huh?’

No one in all her life had ever accused her of being a party animal.

‘A holiday with reading and baking at the top of your list.’

His expression left her in no doubt what he thought about that. ‘This is supposed to be a holiday—some R & R,’ she shot back, stung. ‘I’m all go, go, go at work, but here I want time out.’

‘Boring,’ he sing-songed.

‘Relaxing,’ she countered.

‘You’ve left the recreation part out of your R & R equation. I mean, look at you. You even look...’

She had to clamp her hands around the seat of her chair to stop from leaping out of it. ‘Boring?’ she said through gritted teeth.

‘Buttoned-up. Tense. The opposite of relaxed.’

‘It’s the effect you and your love rays always seem to have on me.’

He tsk-tsked and shook his head. ‘We’re not supposed to mention the love rays, remember?’

Could she scream yet?

‘I mean, look at your hair. You have it pulled back in a bun .’

She touched a hand to her hair. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘A bun is for the boardroom, not the beach.’

She hated wearing her hair down and have it tickle her face.

‘Well, speaking of hair, you might want to visit a hairdresser yourself when you’re next in the village,’ she shot back.

‘But I visited my hairdresser only last week.’ He sent her a grin full of wickedness and sin. ‘The delectable Monique assured me this look is all the rage at the moment.’

He had a hairdresser called Monique...who was delectable? She managed to roll her eyes. ‘The too-long-for-the-boardroom-just-right-for-the-beach look?’

‘Precisely. She said the same about the stubble.’

She’d been doing her best not to notice that stubble. She was trying to keep the words dead sexy from forming in her brain.

‘What do you think?’ He ran a hand across his jawline, preening. It should’ve made him look ridiculous. Especially as he was hamming it up and trying to look ridiculous. But she found herself having to jam down on the temptation to reach across and brush her palm across it to see if it was as soft and springy as it looked.

She mentally slapped herself. ‘I think it looks...scruffy.’ In the best possible way. ‘But it probably provides good protection against the sun, which is wise in these climes.’

He simply threw his head back and laughed, not taking the slightest offence. The strain that had deepened the lines around his eyes last night had eased. And when he rose to take their dishes to the sink he moved with an easy fluidity that belied his recent injuries.

He almost died up there on that mountain .

She went cold all over.

‘Audra?’

She glanced up to find him staring at her, concern in his eyes. She shook herself. ‘What’s your definition of a good holiday, then?’

‘Here on the island?’

He’d started to wash the dishes so she rose to dry them. ‘Uh-huh, here on the island.’

‘Water sports,’ he said with relish.

‘What kind of water sports?’ Swimming and kayaking were gentle enough, but—

‘On the other side of the island is the most perfect cove for windsurfing and sailing.’

But...but he could hurt himself.

‘Throw in some water-skiing and hang-gliding and I’d call that just about the perfect holiday.’

He could kill himself! Lord, try explaining that to Rupert. ‘No way.’

He glanced at her. ‘When did you become such a scaredy-cat, Audra Russel?’

She realised he thought her ‘No way’ had been in relation to herself, which was just as well because if he realised she’d meant it for him he’d immediately go out and throw himself off the first cliff he came across simply to spite her.

And while it might be satisfying to say I told you so if he did come to grief, she had a feeling that satisfaction would be severely tempered if the words were uttered in a hospital ward...or worse.

‘Why don’t you let your hair down for once, take a risk? You might even find it’s fun.’

She bit back a sigh. Maybe that was what she was afraid of. One risk could lead to another, and before she knew it she could’ve turned her whole life upside down. And she wasn’t talking sex with her brother’s best friend here either. Which— obviously —wasn’t going to happen. She was talking about her job and her whole life. It seemed smarter to keep a tight rein on all her risk-taking impulses. She was sensible, stable and a rock to all her family. That was who she was. She repeated the words over and over like a mantra until she’d fixed them firmly in her mind again.

She racked her brain to think of a way to control Finn’s risk-taking impulses too. ‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong with some lazy R & R, Finn Sullivan.’ She used his full name in the same way he’d used hers. ‘You should try it some time.’

His eyes suddenly gleamed. ‘I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll try your kind of holiday R & R if you’ll try mine?’

She bit her lip, her pulse quickening. This could be the perfect solution. ‘So you’d be prepared to laze around here with a book if I...if I try windsurfing and stuff?’

‘Yep. Quid pro quo.’

‘Meaning?’

‘One day we do whatever you choose. The next day we do whatever I choose.’

She turned to hang up the tea towel so he couldn’t see the self-satisfied smile that stretched across her face. For at least half of his stay she’d be able to keep him out of trouble. As for the other half...she could temper his pace—be so inept he’d have to slow down to let her keep up or have to spend so much time teaching her that there’d been no time for him to be off risking his own neck. Perfect.