White Lies by Sara Wood Read Free Book Online Page B

silkily.
    'No! I wasn't! Why are you offering me money?' She frowned over the way her mouth had become all lips and tongue and how carefully she had to concentrate on her words. 'Ten thousand won't buy me—'
    'That's the price,' he said shortly. 'Take it or leave it.'
    She couldn't have moved if she'd tried. Her body had turned to stone. The waves slurped backwards and forwards over her ankles, backwards and forwards with a dizzying effect... Afraid that she'd lose her balance, she pressed her hands firmly into the jagged contours of the rock and concentrated hard.
    'I'll 1-leave it. I want—'
    'To go home,' he supplied helpfully. 'I'll take you to your villa and get your things together while you lie down. I doubt you can walk straight—'
    Mandy's eyes rounded. He could be right. Through the fog she saw that he'd lifted an amused eyebrow, mocking her confusion. And then she realised what he'd done.
    'There was alcohol in that fruit j-juice, wasn't there?' she said in dismay. 'I wasn't sure...I thought there might be, but—'
    She broke off in mid-sentence because he was smiling. And she knew that she'd knocked back—what?—three strong, alcoholic drinks in an alarmingly short space of time!
    As she swayed Pascal placed his arm around her waist and laughed softly, the warmth of his laugh floating over her parted lips and making them feel in dire need of a kiss. Startled, she blinked, but was mesmerised by the swimming depth of his sea-blue eyes, his too near mouth, the even white teeth in the deeply tanned face. . 'Voodoo Punch,' he murmured in her ear. Her inhibitions had been loosened from their tight control. His warm breath made her tremble as it teased her skin. He gave a slow and self-assured smile. 'Your drinks contained a hefty slug of rum. One Voodoo Punch can be invigorating. Two tend to remove constraints. And,' he said in a 'don't blame me' tone of voice, 'you had a Planter's Punch in the bar when you arrived. Unwise in this heat.'
    'I asked you for fruit juice!' she wailed indignantly.
    'Something fruity,' he corrected.
    She groaned and worried over the thin line between the effects of alcohol and sexual desire, because there was a lovely warmth heating her pelvis and her breasts, a deep warmth that flushed through her body like the aftermath of love. No wonder people drank! she thought faintly.
    'The rum was disguised!' she muttered crossly, her hand drifting up so that it could hold her head in one place. 'I knocked it back too fast. Don't you know how dangerous that could have been?' she asked in a rush of anger.
    'Not for you, apparently,' he said, totally unconcerned. 'I took the precaution of asking Simon if you'd had the "welcome" drink. He said you tossed it down as if you were used to it.' He grinned at her with his hungry tiger's grin. 'The rum did wonders to the way you walked down those steps and across the beach.'
    He'd seen her then? The warm air seemed to wrap itself around them both, intensifying the huskiness of his voice, the steadiness of his compelling gaze. 'What way I walked?' she asked uncertainly, her mouth working hard on shaping each word properly.
    'As if your muscles had been loosened by sex, by love, by alcohol. It's not a very English way of moving,' he explained. 'More fluid and Tahitian. Very sultry and exotic. Erotic. Every male on the beach was fascinated.' There was a purr to his voice and it curled into her with a deep intimacy that made her feel uncomfortable. And vulnerable.
    His fingers lightly stroked her shoulder and she felt the pressure from each firm pad burn into her skin. But still she couldn't move. It was all she could do not to slump disgracefully to the sand in a helpless heap.
    'Punch-drunk!' she groaned, annoyed at his amused chuckle. 'And I thought I was getting in the holiday mood...and feeling relaxed!' She struggled to overcome the lassitude. Tentatively she stood up. Sea and sky hurtled around in a wild loop-the-loop, and sand and sunbathers described a