The Far Side of Paradise (9 page)

In her most prosaic tone, she said, ‘Well, that’s all right then.’ She glanced at her watch as if checking the time. ‘And if I’m to be ready on time I’d better get going.’

And managed to force her suddenly heavy legs to move away from him.
Cold shower
was her first thought once she reached the sanctuary of her room.

Icy water would have been good, but she had to content herself with a brisk splash in the lukewarm water available. However, by the time she’d knotted a sleek
pareu
that fell from her bare shoulders to her ankles in a smooth column of gold, her pulse had calmed down—almost.

After a careful examination in the mirror, she gave a short nod of satisfaction. The inexpensive
pareu
looked almost as good as the designer clothes the shop manageress had brought to show her. Her own slim gold sandals
made no concession to her height; she could wear ten-centimetre heels and still be shorter then Cade.

Exactly twenty-five minutes after she’d left, she walked back into the sitting room, to meet a narrow-eyed glance from Cade that sent her pulse rate soaring again. In tropical evening clothes, he was
stunning,
she decided faintly, trying to control the overheated reactions ricocheting through her.

His quizzical expression made her realise she was staring a little too openly. Without censoring the thought, she said, ‘I hope this is suitable.’

‘I’m not an expert on women’s clothes,’ he said, his level voice mocking her turmoil, ‘but no man in the place is going to think it other than perfect.’

She pulled a face. ‘It’s not the men I’m worried about.’

Hard mouth easing into an oblique smile, he said, ‘The women will be envious. You look fine.’ A little impatiently, he finished, ‘Let’s go.’

Nerves tightened in the pit of her stomach as they walked down a shell path beneath the coconut palms to the venue for the cocktail party, a wide terrace open to the sea and the sunset.

Taryn’s swift glance told her that every other woman there was clad in designer resort wear, the sort of clothes featured in very upmarket magazines as ideal for the captain’s cocktail party.

And, judging by the massed array of jewels sparkling in the light of the westering sun, she was the only employee. Worse, a man who turned to watch them walk in smiled sardonically and said something in a low voice to his companion, an elegant blonde who moved so she could see them both clearly.

Taryn gave them a coolly dismissive glance, tensing when Cade slid a firm hand beneath her elbow.

‘Ignore them,’ he said in a low, inflexible voice, looking over her at the couple.

Taryn didn’t see his expression, but the glance he sent towards them must have been truly intimidating. Their rapid about-face almost amused her, and helped to ease her chagrin.

He commanded, ‘Relax.’

Ignoring the rush of heat to her cheeks, she blurted the first thing that came to mind. ‘You were going to ask before you touched me again.’

‘I did make an exception for sharks,’ he said soberly.

She spluttered, then laughed, and he released her. Feeling an abrupt chill, almost as though she’d been abandoned, she took a quick look around, turning as a handsome couple came up to them, their hosts Luke and Fleur Chapman.

After introducing them, Cade said, ‘Luke’s family are rather like feudal overlords here.’ Then he added, ‘But you know this, of course. As well as their strong New Zealand connection, your parents keep you up-to-date with Pacific affairs.’

Taryn said cheerfully, ‘Ever since a Kiwi married Luke’s father we’ve considered the Chapmans of Fala’isi to be honorary New Zealanders.’ She gave a comradely grin to Fleur Chapman. ‘And of course our newspapers and every women’s magazine had a field day when another Kiwi married Luke.’

Both their hosts laughed, but Fleur said thankfully, ‘They seem to have lost interest in us now we’ve settled into being a boringly married couple.’

The glance she exchanged with her husband made
Taryn catch her breath and feel a sudden pang of something too close to envy. Nothing
boring
in that marriage, she thought.

What would it be like to have such complete trust in the person you loved?

Fleur turned back to Taryn. ‘And we’ve heard of the wonderful work your parents do. Later, when we have time, we must talk more about it.’

Their warmth and friendliness set the tone of the evening. Her tension evaporated, and with Cade at her side she felt oddly protected—and that, she realised, was both ridiculous and more than a little ominous.

About the last thing she needed was a man’s protection; she’d been looking after herself quite adequately since she left secondary school.

As she smiled and chatted with people she’d previously seen only on the news, she observed their reactions to Cade. Intrigued, she saw that respect for his formidable achievements was very much to the fore, mixed with a certain wariness.

If anyone else was speculating on the relationship between Cade and her, it didn’t show. Most of the women noted her clothes, and an observant few even recognised her
pareu
to be a cheap beach wrap from the boutique.

Only one mentioned it, a charming middle-aged Frenchwoman who said, ‘My dear, how clever of you! You put us all to shame with sheer powerful simplicity! ‘

The unexpected compliment brought a flush to Taryn’s skin, making Madame Murat laugh as she turned to Cade. ‘I hope you appreciate her.’

Cade’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he favoured her with a smile. ‘I do indeed,’ he said blandly.

Which left Taryn wondering why she felt as though she’d been observing to some covert skirmish.

‘I think our hostess is indicating it’s time for dinner,’ Cade observed.

Obediently, she turned, only to stop in mid-step. ‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘Oh,
look.’

With the suddenness of the tropics, the sun vanished below the horizon in a glory of gold and crimson, allowing the darkness that swept across the sea to make landing in a breath of warm air. Torches around the terrace flared into life, their flames wavering gently in the gardenia-scented breeze, and from the distant reef came the muted thunder of eternal waves meeting the solid coral bulwark that protected the lagoon.

‘Sometimes there’s a green flash,’ she said quietly, eyes still fixed on the horizon.

For the first time since Peter’s death, Taryn felt a pang of joy, a moment of such pure piercing delight she shivered.

‘Are you cold?’ Cade murmured. ‘Do you need a wrap?’

Taryn couldn’t tell him what had happened. Not only was the exaltation too intimate, but in a subversive way Cade’s presence had contributed to it, making him important to her in a way beyond the solely physical.

And that was scary. Magnetic and disturbing, yet underpinned by a solidity she found enormously sustaining, Cade was getting too close.

‘I’m not cold,’ she told him with a return to her usual crispness, ‘but somehow I got the idea that the cocktail party and the dinner were two separate events. I’d planned to collect a wrap from the
fale
to wear to dinner.’

‘My mistake,’ he said blandly. He nodded at a waiter,
who came across immediately. Cade said, ‘Describe the wrap.’

‘It’s draped over the end of my bed,’ she said, touched by his thoughtfulness. ‘A darker gold than this—bronze, really—with a little bit of beadwork around the sleeves.’ And when the man had moved off she said, ‘Thank you.’

He nodded, but didn’t answer as they walked through a door onto another terrace. A long table was arranged exquisitely, candle flames gleaming against silver and crystal and lingering on pale frangipani flowers and greenery.

Foolish resentment gripped Taryn at the sideways glances Cade was receiving from a very beautiful woman in a slinky black sheath that played up her fragile blonde beauty.

Grow up, she told herself. This was ridiculous; she had absolutely no claim on him. OK, so she felt good. That showed she was getting over the shock of Peter’s death. Beyond standing beside her at a sensitive moment, Cade had nothing to do with it.

Nothing at all.

W
HEN
Cade took her arm again, Taryn was rather proud of the way she managed to restrain her wildfire response to that casual touch. Too proud, because he sensed it. Fortunately, he put it down to nervousness.

‘Relax,’ he advised crisply. ‘These are just people—good, bad or dull. Often all three at different times.’ Without pausing, he went on, ‘I asked Fleur to seat us side by side so that you wouldn’t have two total strangers to talk to.’

In other words, he thought she was a total social novice. Well, when it came to occasions of this rarefied nature, she was, she thought ruefully.

He guessed her reaction. ‘Normally, I’m sure you’re able to hold your own,’ he told her.

‘How do you do that?’ she asked impulsively.

He knew what she meant. How do you read my mind?

After a long considering look that curled her toes, he smiled. ‘You have a very expressive face.’

Whereas he’d elevated a poker face to an art form.

Before she could answer, he went on, ‘I thought you might be jet-lagged.’

‘I don’t think so, thank you.’ Then she tensed again as his lashes drooped. Her breath locked in her throat.
She swallowed and added a little too late, ‘But it was kind of you.’

His hooded gaze matched his sardonic tone. ‘I try.’

The odd little exchange left her with stretched nerves. Fortunately, the waiter arrived with her wrap and handed it to Cade, who held it out for her. She slid her arms into it and wondered if the brush of his fingers against her bare skin was deliberate or an accident.

Whatever, it sent sensuous little thrills through her as she sat down.

She turned to greet her neighbour, a pleasant middle-aged man from Indonesia. Cade’s other dinner partner was the blonde woman with the come-hither gaze and, to Taryn’s secret—and embarrassing—irritation, she made an immediate play for the attention he seemed quite happy to give her.

Cattily, Taryn decided that if the woman had anything on beneath the clinging black sheath it would have to be made of gossamer. Her moment of delight evaporated and the evening stretched before her like a punishment.

Several hours later, she heaved a silent sigh of relief when the evening came to an end. Goodbyes and thanks were said and, perhaps emboldened by excellent champagne, the woman in the clinging sheath flung her arms around Cade’s neck and kissed him. Although he didn’t reject her, he turned his cheek so that her lips barely skimmed it and then, in a gesture that seemed to be steadying, held her away from him.

Not a bit embarrassed, she gazed into his eyes and said huskily, ‘I’ll look forward to talking to you about that proposition tomorrow.’

Taryn struggled to control her shock and the concentrated
venom that cut through her. Jealousy was a despicable emotion—one she had no right to feel.

Nevertheless, she had to tighten her lips to keep back an acid comment when she and Cade were walking away.

Coconuts lined the white shell path, their fronds whispering softly above them in the slow, warm breeze. Taryn struggled to ignore the drowsy, scented ambience that had so seduced the original European explorers they’d thought the Pacific islands the next best place to paradise.

Desperate to break a silence that seemed too charged, she said, ‘I once read that human life in the islands would have been impossible without coconuts.’

‘When you say
the islands,
you mean the Pacific Islands?’ Cade queried.

‘Well, yes.’ Good, a nice safe subject to settle the seething turmoil inside her.

Somehow, seeing another woman kiss Cade had let loose something primitive and urgent in her—a female possessiveness that sliced through the restraint she’d deliberately imposed on herself after the violent end of her engagement.

It needed to be controlled—and fast. After swallowing to ease her dry throat, she said sedately, ‘It’s convenient shorthand for New Zealanders when we refer to the Polynesian islands.’

‘So are coconut palms native to this region?’

Judging by his cool, dry tone, Cade wasn’t aware of her feelings. Thank heavens.

‘Possibly.’ Yes, her voice sounded good—level, a little schoolmistressy. ‘No one seems to know where they originated because they populated the tropics on this side of the world well before any humans arrived
here. The nuts can germinate and grow after floating for years and thousands of miles.’

When he didn’t reply, she looked up in time to see something dark and fast hurtling down towards her. She gave a choked cry and ducked, stumbling as a vigorous push on her shoulder sent her lurching sideways into the slender trunk of the nearest palm.

She grabbed it and clung. Cade too had avoided whatever it was and as she sagged he pulled her upright, supporting her in a hard, close embrace.

Heart thumping, stunned by the speed of his response, she asked in a muted, raw voice, ‘I think … was it a fruit bat?’

He was silent for a few tense seconds. ‘It certainly didn’t hit the ground, so it was flying.’

‘That’s what it would be, then.’ Her tone wobbled—affected by a wild onrush of adrenalin, she thought feverishly.

And by Cade’s warmth, the disturbing masculine power that locked her in his arms.

No!

Yet she didn’t move. ‘I’d forgotten about them,’ she babbled. ‘They don’t attack, of course—they just scare the wits out of people who aren’t used to them.’

She had to fight the flagrant temptation to bury her face in his shoulder and soak up some of the formidable strength and composure from his lean, powerfully muscled body.

Lean, powerfully muscled—and
aroused
body …

As if reacting to the heat that burned through her, he relaxed his grip a little and looked down.

Taryn’s mouth dried and her pulse echoed in her head, drowning out any coherent thought. Sensation ran riot along insistent, pleading nerves.

Mutely, she met the probing lance of his scrutiny, her lashes drooping as the shifting glamour of moonlight played across the angles and planes of his face, so rigid it resembled a mask.