Evie's Bombshell - By Amy Andrews Page 0,13

the water, trying to see a head amongst the continually rolling breakers.

Her heart beat in sync with the ocean as she searched in vain through the wild pounding surf and a hundred disaster scenarios scuttled through her head. She calmed herself with the knowledge that he was a strong swimmer and ignored the ominous power of the surging ocean. Then she spotted his head popping up out of the water. He was quite a distance out but she could see his wet hair was sleek, like a seal’s pelt, and his shoulders were broad and bare.

She sat on the sand next to his towel and waited.

Finn was aware of Evie from the minute she’d set foot on the beach. Some sixth sense had alerted him and he’d watched her advance towards the shoreline, obviously looking for him.

And, of course, she looked utterly gorgeous in a dress that blew across her body, outlining her athletic legs, her hair whipping across her face, the shoestring straps baring lovely collar bones and beautiful shoulders.

Just looking at her made him hard and he was grateful for the cover of ocean.

It had been so long since he’d touched her. He wanted to stride up the beach, push her back into the sand and bury himself in her. But he hated the feelings she roused in him and the loss of control he exhibited when he was with her.

Besides … it would just put them back at square one when he’d tried so hard—and succeeded—at putting distance between them.

He could tell, though, even from this distance, she was here to chat. And, God knew, he didn’t want to chat with her. Right now the only thing he wanted to do with her involved being naked and he was going to stay right here until he’d worn the impulse down.

He swam against and with the strong current until he was chilled to the bone and his arm ached. A part of him hoped she’d get sick of waiting and just leave. Or maybe her pager would go off. But she sat stubbornly staring out to sea, watching him until finally the chill was unbearable and, admitting defeat, he strode from the surf.

She handed him his towel as he drew level with her and he took it wordlessly, rubbing vigorously at his body. When he was done he wrapped it around his waist and threw himself down next to her, taking care to leave a gap. She didn’t say anything to him as they both sat and watched the ocean for a while, the sun’s rays beginning to work their magic on the ice that seemed to penetrate right down to his bones.

Although the ice around his heart was as impenetrable as always.

‘I hear you have a boyfriend,’ he said after a while.

Evie, her brain still grappling with the perfect words to tell Finn he was going to be a father and her stupid pregnant hormones still all aflutter from his sexy Adonis-rising-from-the-ocean display, didn’t register the terseness in his tone.

‘A cosmetic surgeon who owns a Porsche and comes from North Shore money,’ he continued.

Evie bit back a smile at the ill-disguised contempt in his voice. When choosing her fake boyfriend she’d deliberately chosen all the attributes Finn would despise. ‘Well, I figured if I was going to have a make-believe boyfriend I might as well go all out.’

Finn wasn’t mollified. ‘He sounds like a tosser.’

Evie smiled at the ocean. ‘Because he does lips and boobs or because of the Porsche?’

Finn glared at her as she continued to stare at the horizon. ‘Is that what you want, Princess Evie? Some blue-blooded prince to keep up your royal lineage?’

She turned to look at him, her nostrils flaring as the scent of sea salt and something her hormones recognised as quintessentially Finn enveloped her. ‘I think you know who I want.’

And suddenly the roar of the ocean faded as the pounding of her pulse took over. The fact she was supposed to be telling him about their baby also faded as her heart drummed a primitive beat perfectly at home in this deserted windswept landscape. The world of the beach shrank until there was just him and her and the sun stroking warm fingers over their skin, lulling her common sense into a stupor. His bare chest and shoulders teased her peripheral vision, his sexy stubble and wet, ruffled hair taunted her front and centre.

‘I’ve only ever wanted you, Finn,’ she murmured, her breath rough as her gaze fell to