Lucy Gordon - Swept Away!

‘All right, you’re safe,’ came Dante’s voice. ‘What were you thinking of, you crazy woman?’

‘I don’t know—I just wanted to—Oh, goodness!’

‘Steady. Relax. I’ve got you.’

He trod water while keeping her well above the surface, holding her tight against him, his hands almost meeting about her waist.

‘All right?’ he said, looking up.

‘Yes, I—I’m fine.’

It was hard to sound composed when the sensation of her bare skin against his was so disturbing. Her thighs were against his chest, his mouth was just below her breasts, and the waves were moving them about so that their contact constantly shifted; with every new touch the tremors went through her.

‘I’m going to let you down,’ he said. ‘You can’t touch the ground, but don’t worry. Just hold onto me. Down—easy.’

She knew he meant only to be gentle and reassuring by lowering her slowly, but the feeling of her flesh gliding against his was just what she didn’t need right now, she thought frantically. Control. Control .

‘Ouch!’ he said.

‘What?’

‘You’re hurting me, digging your nails into my shoulders.’

‘Sorry!’ she said wildly. ‘Sorry—sorry.’

‘OK, I believe you. Let’s get back to shore. Can you swim, or will you hold onto me?’

‘I can manage fine,’ she lied.

They made it back to the shore without incident, and she set her feet down on the sand with relief.

‘All right?’ Dante asked.

‘Yes, thank you. You can let me go now.’

‘I’ll just support you until we reach the lounger. You had quite a shock.’

Her legs felt weak, but that was natural after her alarm. It surely couldn’t have anything to do with her burning consciousness of his left hand about her waist while his right hand clasped hers?

What happened next was really annoying. By sheer ill-luck an unevenness in the sand made her stumble so that Dante had to tighten his grip to stop her falling.

‘Let’s do it the easy way,’ he said, lifting her high into his arms and carrying her the rest of the distance.

This was even worse. Now she had no choice but to put her arms about his neck, which positioned her mouth close to his and her breasts against his chest, something a sensible woman would have avoided at all costs.

At last he eased her down onto the lounger and dropped on one knee beside her.

‘You gave me a fright,’ he said. ‘Vanishing below the water for so long. I thought you’d gone for good.’

‘Nonsense,’ she said, trying to laugh it off. ‘I’d have been bound to float up eventually.’

‘Yes, but it might have been too late.’

‘Then it’s lucky for me that you were there. You do the “rescuing damsels in distress” thing really well.’

‘It’s my speciality,’ he said lightly. ‘And, just to show you how good at it I am, let me dry you off.’

He tossed the towel around her shoulders and began to dab.

‘I can manage, thank you,’ she said in a strained voice.

‘All right. Do it properly, and I’ll get you something to drink.’

He poured her some wine in a plastic container.

‘Sorry it’s a bit basic, but the wine is good,’ he said.

She drank it thankfully, wishing he’d move away and not kneel there, so kind, so sweetly concerned, so nearly naked.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I feel better now. You don’t need to hover over me.’

‘Am I being too protective? I can’t help it. I keep thinking what it would have been like without you, and I don’t like that thought at all.’

‘Really?’ she asked quietly.

‘Of course. How could I manage without your brilliant pictures?’

‘My pictures?’

‘You really enhance my work in a way that nobody else has managed to do. We make a great team, don’t you think?’

‘Fantastic,’ she agreed dismally.

‘So I’ll just keep on watching out for you.’

Her head shot up. ‘What—what did you say?’

‘I said I’m watching out for you. You obviously need someone being protective. Hey, careful. You’ve spilled wine all down yourself.’

She seized the towel out of his hands and dabbed at her bare torso. Her head was in a whirl, and her senses were in an even worse whirl.

‘Did you say you’re keeping a protective eye on me?’ she said.

‘I think I need to, don’t you? And it’s what friends do, isn’t it?’

‘Oh yes, of course they do,’ she babbled.

‘It’s time you had a rest.’

‘Yes,’ she said with relief. ‘I think that’s what I’ll do.’

SHE was glad to escape by stretching out and closing her eyes. His words had unnerved her, reminding her that it was she who was supposed to be watching out for him.

She dozed for a while and awoke to find herself alone. Dante was further down the beach, kicking a rubber ball around with some boys. For a while she watched him through half-closed eyes, unwillingly admiring the lines of his body, the athletically graceful way he moved.

She was no green girl; Sandor hadn’t been her first lover. At twenty-eight, she knew her own body well, knew how it could be most totally satisfied, knew exactly what it wanted.

But that could be a problem when it couldn’t have what it wanted.

It would have been easier to observe Dante leaping about the beach if she didn’t have to listen to the voice inside whispering how well he would move in bed, how subtle and knowing his caresses would be.

How fine would his tall body feel held close against her own long body? When she saw him give a mighty kick, she thought of his legs between hers. When he reached for the ball at an impossible angle, she could almost feel his hands against her skin, exploring her tentatively, waiting for her with endless patience, knowing exactly how to…

She sat up, trembling and annoyed with herself. What was the matter with her?

‘Just friendly’. That was the matter.

When Dante returned, he found her fully dressed.

‘I’ve had enough of this,’ she said fretfully. ‘I think I’ll go into town.’

‘Great idea,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you the shops, then we’ll go to dinner.’

She ground her nails into her palm. Why couldn’t he at least show some ill temper, like any other man, thus giving her the chance to feel annoyed with him?

But the wretch wouldn’t even oblige her in that.

Because he wasn’t like any other man.

At least she’d made him put his clothes on.

They spent the rest of the day sedately, buying the odd garment, and also buying computer software. In one shop she discovered a superb programme that she hadn’t expected to be available for another month, and snapped it up. Over dinner, she enthused about it to Dante, who listened with genuine interest. It was the high point of the day.

On reflection, she thought that said it all.

Afterwards he saw her to her door but made no attempt to come in.

‘Goodnight,’ he said. ‘Sleep well.’

She went in, restraining herself with difficulty from slamming the door.

Furiously she thought of the signals he’d sent out that day, signals that had said clearly that he wanted her and was controlling it with difficulty. But the signals had changed. Now he might have been made of ice, and it was obvious why.

He was scheming. He wanted her to be the one to weaken. If either of them was overcome with desire, it must be her. In his dreams, she succumbed to uncontrollable lust, reaching out to entice him.

Hell would freeze over first!

Next day they promised themselves a lazy time in the sun.

‘I could happily stay here for ever,’ Dante said, stretching out luxuriously. ‘Who cares about work?’