ANA spent the next minute reminding herself that although Sebastian Rentoul had made her feel truly desired for the first time in her life, he had also been the cause of her darkest heartache. He’d been the flame that had burned through her until all that had been left inside was cold ash. The loss she’d felt took her breath away—her life’s blood. And he had no idea.
The only thing that mattered to him was his job. In that he was ruthless—viciously determined. He did whatever it took to climb to the top—wasn’t that why he’d done what he had with her? They’d been a one-night stand that went on a few days too long—a weekend getaway that had culminated in a wedding. Ana had been infatuated; she understood that now. Intoxicated by his desire for her, overwhelmed by how right she had felt in his arms. For once she hadn’t been too tall, or awkward. They’d been so physical her usual reticence hadn’t mattered—they’d been too busy to talk. She’d breathlessly, brainlessly said yes. And she’d been so excited about their future.
But it had lasted less than a week. Because when they had returned to London, and he to work, she’d found out about his promotion—the one that had depended on him stabilising his personal life. It wasn’t that he’d fallen head over heels for her at all. He’d simply needed a wife—and she’d been the malleable fling of the moment. The naïve fool.
When she’d accused him of it he hadn’t been shy about admitting it, ruthlessly acknowledging that he had no real belief in marriage—that he’d never meant it to be for ever. And so she’d found out—too late—that his life was one big game. He was a playboy. And he’d played her. Sebastian Rentoul got everything and anything and anyone he wanted. That conversation had been short and brutal. She’d walked out—run away. But for her, the worst had yet to come.
So in the end it took only thirty seconds to underline why she was definitely, totally, not going there again. But it was half an hour until the tyre was changed and they got back on board. Seb returned to the seat next to her and her pulse was still too fast, too erratic.
There was nothing for her to do but box on through it. ‘How’s work going?’
He sent her an ironic look. ‘It’s going well. Lots of cases. I’ve been working long hours.’
And partying even longer hours, she bet. She’d been wowed when she’d found out he was a lawyer—had been such an ignorant idealist. But Seb wasn’t that kind of lawyer. He didn’t don wig and gown and go defend the innocent or the persecuted. He did divorce. Representing high-powered wealthy people embroiled in the bitterest of partings.
Seb swung into action for them—dividing, conquering—making sure the cougar kept the house or the serial sleazoid avoided the alimony. Knowing his powers of persuasion, she knew it was a waste of his talent. He should be in the criminal courtroom. He’d have a jury free a man despite evidence caught on camera and with DNA back-up.
‘So you got made partner?’
That was why he’d married her. Not because he’d fallen as madly, deeply, passionately for her as she had for him. Not because he too had been swept away by a kind of madness. No, he’d had a far more clay-based reason for proposing than her helium-filled one for saying yes. There’d been some archaic belief in his old-school firm that the partners needed to have a stable, respectable home life. Not the girls-a-go-go playboy lifestyle that Seb had.
She should have figured it out sooner—that he hadn’t meant any of it. He’d picked her up in a bar, for heaven’s sake—as if that were any real start to a serious relationship? In minutes he’d seduced the brains out of her. Just as he did with a different woman every week. Only she’d been so gullible and needy she’d believed him when he’d said she was special. She’d been stupid enough to step onto a plane with him and take off for a sex-drenched mini-break on an island famed for its sun and sand. An island where, if you were so inclined, you could even get married.
And she’d been so inclined. She’d been so desperate to believe. How badly she’d wanted to believe that someone had fallen in love with her just like that. So stupid—as if that would happen? But a childhood lacking in love and full of loneliness did that to a person.
‘Yes.’ Seb sighed. ‘I checked all the boxes, didn’t I? Have wife, will progress.’
‘You don’t have a wife.’
‘I do,’ he replied, lifting his hand, showing the wedding band.
‘Another one?’ She deadpanned, ignoring the spike of adrenalin. ‘My God. You’re a bigamist.’
He laughed. She stared as his face broke up—she saw his full lips widen, teeth flash and his eyes light. And then there was the sound. It was like having plugs removed from her ears. Hearing that freshness, she felt sweet warmth sweep inside. She couldn’t help responding, her lips curving.
‘Ana. We’re married. Still married, in case you’d forgotten.’
Of course she hadn’t. She was working to end it, wasn’t she? ‘We’re only married on paper, Seb. And not for much longer.’
‘What do you mean only on paper?’ His eyes twinkled brighter. ‘I remember consummating our marriage, Ana. I remember the night on the balcony. I remember the way you—’
‘All right.’ She held up her hand, stopping what she knew was going to be a totally inappropriate recollection. ‘So I’m your wife. How the hell do you explain it?’
‘You don’t like city life.’ He angled his head and looked at her as if he were a medium reading her mind. ‘And for all I know that might actually be true. I decline invitations on your behalf and don’t participate in client functions myself. I’m very devoted.’
‘To what, my absence?’
‘It’s very useful.’ He nodded. ‘I can say no to my lady clients and go up in their esteem at the same time.’
‘They really think you have a wife secreted away somewhere?’ She was intrigued now. Did he really feed them this rubbish?
‘Well, I do, don’t I? But they don’t know that not even I know where the hell you’ve been. I have your picture on my desk. Looking soulfully into the lens.’
‘You’re kidding.’ He had to be. ‘They honestly believe you?’
‘I guess.’ Sebastian shrugged. He didn’t care what they all thought. Frankly since he’d been so grumpy the questions had stopped early on and he hadn’t had to lie—except by omission. And since he’d taken himself right out of the social scene and thrown himself into work, he’d proved himself beyond worthy of the promotion. It was what he should have done in the first place. There’d have been no need for that stupid piece of paper and the confusion that had blown up between them.
He’d laugh about it one day. Honest he would. But until he’d demanded that her best friend Phil finally tell him where the hell she was, he’d always wondered if something had happened to her. Sure she’d left him a message, but when he’d followed up on it he’d discovered it had all been lies. She’d vanished. And he’d been left with that nagging worry. And the regret. He’d been horribly blunt when she’d asked him straight out about why he’d married her. He hadn’t meant to hurt her—he’d liked her and had sure as hell liked sleeping with her.
But it only took one look at her now to know that he’d been wrong to worry. She was looking great. So much skin. So much inviting skin.
He shouldn’t have touched her before. He was here to get closure, not to rekindle that out-of-control flame. ‘I think they think you’re not well or something,’ he said. ‘They don’t ask any more. Quiet sympathy offered all round.’
‘Rather than sex.’
Oh, so she could do sarcasm, could she? He laughed, cringing a little, but he couldn’t blame her—after all, he’d told her about the last one, hadn’t he? ‘They wouldn’t dare. Not believing I’m so devoted.’
All those inviting looks had dropped. Had he known it would be so simple he’d have invented a wife a couple of years ago. Saved himself this current mess. Getting made partner at Wilson & Crosbie had been his ambition since before university. He was there now. But there’d been no chance of a partnership while single; the old boys in the firm were ultra-conservative. They didn’t want their well-heeled lady clients eyeing him up, or the estranged young wives of their male clients confusing the agenda. And they certainly didn’t like the entire secretarial pool coming to a complete halt every time he walked past their desks. And given he’d had a fling with one that had ended with the girl in constant floods of tears at work, maybe they had a point. Apparently they felt he needed a wife.
He’d been going to force it. Point out the ridiculousness to the firm—he was a divorce specialist, for heaven’s sake. But that had been just before he’d met Ana. Fate had lent a hand. He’d been so hot for her—whisking her off to have his wicked way. And one afternoon in Gibraltar when he’d been intoxicated by sun and sand and so much glorious sex he’d had the most stupid idea. She’d agreed and they’d married the next day.
Her eyes slid from his. ‘So how are you going to explain the divorce?’
He felt the devil surge in him and was unable to stop the temptation to tease. ‘Maybe there won’t be a divorce.’
‘What?’ Wide-eyed, she shook her head. ‘There’ll be one. You can count on it.’
‘You’re that desperate to be rid of me?’ Why? Did she have another man? Where was he? And why was she on a truck cruising around Africa?
‘Of course I am.’
‘Then why’s it taken so long?’ It was the best part of a year since she’d walked out and he hadn’t heard a word until those papers had landed on his desk.
She looked away, didn’t answer directly. ‘Don’t you want a divorce? Good grief.’ Her face flashed back towards him. ‘Do you still need a wife to keep your precious job? That’s insane.’
He opened his mouth, about to correct her, but she surged on.
‘I’ll fight you for it, Seb. Don’t think I won’t. Really you should sign quickly. Otherwise I might go after your money.’
He laughed again, shaking his head at the weakness of her threat. ‘No judge would buy it, honey. You’re the one who deserted me, remember? After a mere three days of marriage. I’m the wounded party, the heartbroken one. It’s more likely that I’d get some of your money.’ It wasn’t, of course, but he’d take the chance of snatching the moral high ground all the same. Just for once.
His smile died. ‘Why now, Ana?’ Why, after months of silence, of him not knowing where she was, had she sent him the papers now? ‘Have you met someone?’
‘That’s none of your business, Seb.’
It wasn’t. But it was the question burning a hole inside him now. Where had she been, what had she been doing this last year? Because she looked good—so mouth-wateringly good. How irritating.
His last year had been nothing but hard work. But until this moment he hadn’t put the difficulty directly down to her. He thought it had been the situation that had strangled his usually raging sex drive. That their mess of a marriage and the resulting awkwardness had put him off women for a while. But that ‘while’ had stretched on and on. He was still totally uninterested in dating. Hadn’t even had a casual one-night stand since. Mind you, that was how he’d started with her and he wasn’t risking a similar disaster. Besides, he hadn’t met anyone who’d pushed his ‘on’ button.
Except he was switched on now.
By her. He couldn’t believe how attracted he still was to her. Well, that was dumb. Because one thing was for sure: it wasn’t happening again.
Ana suppressed the sigh and tried really hard not to look at her watch again. Every hour seemed to be taking five times as long to pass. Their conversation had just cut out. He’d turned away from her and focused on the scenery. As had she. With rigid determination.
Why hadn’t she sent the papers sooner? Because for those first few months she’d been too ill to do anything. And then when she’d been physically better, emotionally she hadn’t been ready to cope. Finally she’d emerged from the darkness—she’d salvaged something from the experience and she’d begun to dream up her business. She’d concentrated on doing a couple of courses—building her confidence, feeling as if she was achieving something. And she’d worked, saved, prepared to relaunch her life. Only then had she been sure she could deal with Seb—or at least instruct her lawyer to.
Finally they arrived at the campsite. It was part of a snake park where they could look at the deadly Black Mamba—apparently it took only one bite and then you had mere moments to write your will. It’d be good if one could get up close to Seb. Or maybe one of the crocodiles would be better—could swallow him in one big gulp. That would definitely mean she could put the whole thing behind her.
Ana stretched as she jumped down from the truck, trying to uncurl the kinks and soften up the tension that was rampant in every one of her muscles. Another night, another tent pitch—after three weeks of wrestling with the canvas she was a bit over it.
Bundy walked over. ‘You two will want to share a tent.’
What? Ana turned and found Seb right beside her. Every muscle seized again. Why on earth would Bundy think that?
‘Yeah.’ Seb answered before she managed to breathe, let alone think.
‘Set up just beyond that tree over there. That way you’ll get a little privacy.’ He winked.
Ana gaped.
‘Thanks,’ Seb said.
It was one of those all-bloke moments where there was nothing for her to do but turn her back and pretend that that grin swap between the two men hadn’t happened. That she wasn’t going crimson with embarrassment.
No. It was rage.
Seb pulled a tent bag from the pile and went over to where Bundy had indicated. Ana stomped after him. Privacy was indeed necessary because she was about to commit first-degree murder.
‘Why does he think we’d want to share a tent?’ She just managed not to shout.
‘I told him we’re married.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Well, we are. It was how I could get on the truck at this late stage.’
So Bundy thought it was going to be some happy reunion? She narrowed her glare. ‘I thought you said our meeting on the truck was a coincidence.’
He grinned. ‘I lied.’
She whirled on him quick smart. ‘Not for the first time, Seb.’ Oh, yes, in with the knife.
But he just smiled wider with appreciation. ‘I underestimated how good it would be to see you too, Ana.’
As if this were good? She’d never planned to see Seb again. And she certainly wasn’t going to spend a night in a tent with him. Prickling heat washed from her scalp down. The only person who’d known where she’d gone was Phil. She was totally having words with him when she got back to London.
Irritated, she watched how quickly Seb assessed the tent parts lying in a heap where he’d tipped them out. Yeah, it wouldn’t take him the best part of an hour to figure it out first time as it had her. She hated how tiny the school-camp-like pup tents were. It had been almost bearable when she’d been on her own. But with Seb? She was just over six feet. He wasn’t far off six and a half. Neither of them could sleep in there without curling up and they both couldn’t do that in there unless they curled up together. She wouldn’t be able to breathe. She couldn’t breathe now when she was in one of the widest open spaces in the world and he was two metres away.
Because it was still there, wasn’t it? Despite everything, despite all that had happened, she still wanted him. One look—at the back of him—and it had started again. The heightened awareness, the senses that had been dormant for so long were now switched on and scurrying for attention, craving touch—his.
She rebelled. ‘I’m not sharing a tent with you, Seb.’
‘We have to.’
‘No, we do not.’
He shrugged, a hint of apology in his eyes. ‘Bundy said there weren’t any spare tents.’
‘Then you can sleep in a mosquito net under the stars.’ Or in the truck. Or in with the snakes. Anywhere, but not near her. ‘I’ve got one you can use.’
‘OK.’ He held her gaze and softly repeated her words. ‘Under the stars.’
And suddenly she remembered another time when he’d suggested just that. Another dark, wide sky. There’d been no net, no sheets, nothing but warm naked bodies. Their wedding night. On their balcony in Gibraltar and she’d been blinded by those stars.
Ana felt the flush slither across her skin like a nest of snakes disturbed and sliding out in all directions. She bent and started spreading out the tent totally haphazardly.
‘Look, let me do it.’ Seb pushed her out of the way. ‘Why don’t you go get a drink or something? You look all hot and bothered.’
‘I can manage.’ Didn’t he realise she’d been doing just that for months now?
‘I’m sure you can,’ he said. ‘But I haven’t been sitting under the sun for days on that truck. Go and have a minute in the shade.’
She was perfectly capable of pitching the tent. But she wasn’t stupid. He wanted to pitch the tent for her? Fabulous. She might as well get some kind of positive out of this. ‘Thanks.’
She was hot. And breathless. She took the sarong she used as a towel and headed to the bathroom. Cold showers were all there were at campsites like this. And they were wonderful.
Afterwards she wandered off to where the animals were housed. Stared for an age at the big crocodile basking in the sun, lying so still he looked as if he were carved from stone.
‘Do you think he’s actually alive?’ Seb asked.
‘Don’t be fooled,’ she answered, not turning to face him, not surprised that he’d found her. ‘He can move faster than you can blink.’
The snakes didn’t appeal to her, looking at her with their cold and dangerous eyes, but she was fascinated by the chameleon. She stood watching his eyes swivel in all directions at once, amazed by the speckles of bright colour on his skin.
‘He can’t decide what his camouflage should be.’ Seb chuckled.
She could relate to the poor thing, didn’t know which way to defend herself against her own weakness. But as she watched the lizard she couldn’t stop curiosity from biting.
‘So what about you, Seb? Why are you travelling alone? Is there no one to warm your sleeping bag?’
‘You can if you want.’ He laughed outright at her look. ‘Well, you asked.’ He rubbed his knuckle against the stubble of his jaw and a hint of rue flickered in his eye. ‘Actually it’s been a long time since I even kissed someone.’
She turned from the chameleon. ‘You expect me to believe that?’
‘Well, yes.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Sebastian, I’ve been with you. I know what you’re like.’ She knew exactly his potency—his ability to move far faster than that crocodile ever could.
‘I haven’t been with anyone since you. What happened between us wasn’t normal, Ana.’
‘No.’ She managed a smile. It certainly wasn’t for her.
‘I don’t usually ask women to marry me.’
She laughed. ‘Has the experience put you off all women for good, Seb?’ Wouldn’t that just have served him right?
Coolly he held her gaze. ‘Perhaps.’
Wow—there wasn’t a hint of jest in his tone.
‘Have you met anyone else?’ he asked.
‘Not that many men like a woman who towers above them.’
‘You don’t tower. I’m taller than you.’
‘You’re not most men.’
His gaze dropped, she felt his focus skim over her as if it were his hand. ‘Most men love long legs.’
She shook her head—he was so wrong. ‘Most men run a mile.’ He still looked so disbelieving she got cross. ‘It’s OK for you. You’re a man. It’s an asset. For a woman to be as tall as I am? It’s freak status. I see them, Seb, staring, laughing, coming up to stand behind me at the bar, measuring themselves against the giant woman.’
His brows contracted. ‘It really bothers you? But they only stare because you’re beautiful.’
Yeah, right.
He stepped closer. ‘There’s really been no one else?’
Was that all he cared about? ‘No,’ she answered, unable to lie or to stop her own huskiness. ‘But that’s irrelevant, Seb.’
He glanced back to the chameleon. ‘Maybe.’
She wasn’t going to let him confuse her. She wasn’t going to allow the past to rear up and toss her off course again—not now she was finally on top of it.
She turned to walk back to the safety of the others. But Seb moved, standing in front of her, not touching her, yet not letting her pass by. She looked up at him, trying to make her lack of interest plain. A little difficult, though, given that her body was determined to be interested.
He almost smiled. But his eyes were too sharp and his body too tense.
‘Dinner will be ready.’ She broke the taut silence with a voice almost too husky to be heard. ‘I’m starving.’
She ate quietly, listened to Seb chatting to the others. He offered no reason for his appearance, didn’t explain their relationship and thankfully everyone was too polite to ask. But she could see them warming to him just as everyone who came in contact with him did. She had—so had Phil—when they’d been out on the town that night. It was impossible not to be charmed by the smile, the attentiveness, the goddamn brilliant social skills. They were out in play tonight. She could see the boys thinking he was a good guy and the girls giving her sideways looks as if they were wondering how the hell she got so lucky.
If only they knew. The kind of warm attentiveness he showed here was nothing on the focus he showed in bed. Her cheeks burned with fast-flying provocative memories. It was as if he dedicated every bit of himself to the art of pleasure—time and time again. She’d thought it would be endless.
She shifted. Went and did the dishes even though it wasn’t her turn on the roster. She just couldn’t sit still, couldn’t be near him.
The darkness was swift and complete. And even though there were millions of stars they were miles away and threw no light on the ground. She wouldn’t sleep in the open air here—there were too many scary things about like snakes and scorpions and, heaven forbid, lions. But Seb was big and strong and would just have to handle it. In the tent she curled up in her tee shirt and tried not to feel guilty.
Hours later, still awake, she heard the splotch, splotch, splotch. Recognised it immediately and registered the quickening tempo. It hadn’t rained often on her trip, but when it rained, it really rained. It only took three of the super-sized drops and you were saturated. She shut her eyes and cursed the weather gods. But not even she could leave him out there to drown in warm mud.
She flicked on her torch and unzipped the canvas. ‘Seb. Get in here.’
He was only a few yards away and already sitting up, muttering beneath his breath.
‘Come on, hurry up.’
He was in sooner than she would ever be ready for. His big frame took up the bulk of the space and he stuffed his sleeping sheet in too.
‘Damn.’ With one swift movement he whipped his shirt up over his head.
‘What are you doing?’
He tossed the tee into the corner. ‘What does it look like?’
‘You’re…’ Oh, my. He was amazing. She remembered the muscles—back then she’d been amazed too, had wondered how a man who spent so much of his life in a suit got muscles like those. But now he was even leaner, his body even more defined. The six-pack was rock-hard and her fingertips begged to trace the shape of the muscles in his arms.
‘Taking off my wet clothes, yes.’
He was undoing his shorts, his big hands working smoothly. She remembered the feel of them on her. How close he’d pulled her to him. The heat of the night and the beat of the music. The madness that had swept over her, making her sigh yes, yes, yes.
‘You know there are scorpions around—you might get bitten,’ she snapped.
He looked amused, took his time about peeling off his shorts and revealing the brief boxers beneath. ‘I might get bitten by something a lot bigger than one of those.’
She flicked the torch off.
‘Hey.’ He reached across and flicked it back on. ‘I want to find my sleeping bag, you know.’ He chuckled. ‘You wouldn’t want me making a mistake and getting into the wrong one, would you?’
She looked at the way his eyes were dancing; the old Seb shone out at her—the joker, the tease. He made it too easy, so much fun. Oh, yeah, she and every other woman on the planet could do nothing but say yes to that smiling good humour.
She curled her legs up under her big sloppy tee and dived into the silk liner of her sleeping bag. Boiling already.
As she stared up at the roof of the tent, her legs drawn up, the silence was agony. She could hear every rustle. Her own breathing was too loud, too fractured. How the hell was she going to sleep when her whole body was wired? It was as if he was this great source of power that made her hum when he got within ten feet. Now within one foot she was just about floating off the ground hoodoo-voodoo style.
She closed her eyes and counted as she breathed, trying to think of something—anything—but him. But as the rain pelted down the futility of it got to her and she started to laugh. Once she started, she couldn’t stop.
And he laughed too. Deep and rich and loud. That wonderful warm sound sliced through her tension, freeing her to feel a weird kind of relief. She loved the sound of his laughter.
And then suddenly she was filled with tension again. That stupid yearning as she remembered hours of rolling and laughing with him in what she’d thought had been the affair of a lifetime.
She sobered completely. ‘Did you have to come all the way to Africa, Seb?’
‘Yeah,’ he sighed, sounding as if he regretted it as much as she. ‘I did.’