Shipwrecked with Mr. Wrong - By Nikki Logan Page 0,13

bikini she’d been getting around in all day really left little mystery. As the sounds of tinkling water reached him, he pictured her naked and natural in the moonlight, her back to him, sponging herself with suds from the bowl. Her touch was light and all business wherever the sponge travelled, almost a matter-of-fact chore. So matter-of-fact it shouldn’t have been particularly sexy, but Rob swallowed back an instinctive groan. A freshwater bath had to be a rare luxury in a saltwater environment and she would be as careful conserving the precious supplies as she was gentle with her salt-abused skin. Almost ritualistic. She stood, mostly obscured, her shoulders and head visible above the circle of low-growing pandanas bushes between them. Her hands lifted back into view as they drifted to the scars. She slowed and stroked the area with more care, almost lovingly. Then she paused for a moment with one hand resting on the puckered flesh, her head bowed.

Rob stopped breathing. He grew entranced by the way her gentle strokes over the scars resumed. The way she practically worshipped them. It was more intensely personal than any naked part of her body could possibly be. A dull thud started up right through his body.

Right about then he realised his eyes weren’t closed any more, and he wasn’t imagining. Spying on a naked woman came a paltry second to the intrusion he realised he’d made into her inner privacy. Whatever was going on in her heart and head right now, it had less than nothing to do with him. It was for Honor alone.

This ends. Now.

He stepped back out of view. The lateness of the hour and his thickened senses slowed him as he tucked back into the shadows. Before he was more than a few metres down towards the beach, Honor emerged on the little shell-lined path and stood, pale and enormous-eyed, clutching a towel in front of her and violent accusation clear in her voice.

‘Enjoy the show?’

* * *

He had a choice—deny it like a coward, or cop to it like a man. Honor knew which she hoped he’d be, even though that also meant he was a jerk.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said simply, holding his hands where she could see them, as though she was a wild creature he didn’t want to rile any further. She refused to acknowledge the sheen of seawater on his skin, the droplets in his hair and thick eyelashes, keeping her eyes planted on his unapologetic face. To his credit, his eyes never strayed from hers, even though she stood near naked before him. ‘I didn’t mean to spy on you.’

‘Yes, you did.’ She was still angry but it was moderated by a swill of hormones that had started running laps in her system. ‘Unless you’re trying to tell me you tripped and fell into the bushes next to where I happened to be taking a bath.’

He acknowledged her point and changed his words. ‘Then I apologise for coming ashore. I didn’t expect you to be bathing, obviously.’

She blushed furiously. ‘You should have been asleep!’

‘So should you.’

Honor barely knew what to do with his entire lack of concern that he’d been busted being a slime-ball. It wasn’t that he wasn’t sorry—he clearly was—but he didn’t seem the slightest bit embarrassed. Her anger wasn’t because he’d seen her naked—lots of people had seen her body and not all of them were doctors—it was because he’d breached her just-won trust. ‘How am I going to trust you now? You spied on me.’

His head dipped. When it came back up, his eyes were sincere. He moved towards her but stopped immediately as she stumbled back a step. ‘You bathing was as much a natural part of this island’s life as watching the birds roosting.’

‘Easy for you to say. It wasn’t your butt hanging out for all the world to see.’

Some part of him must have known that smiling now would be fatal. He fought the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

She hugged the towel closer and glared. ‘Out of my camp.’

He turned on the Dalton charm, head tipping, sinking onto one hip, his voice like melted chocolate. ‘Come on, Honor. It was a mistake and I’ve apologised.’

‘Does that dreamy tone work on everyone? Or is it only effective with women?’

He looked at her hard and she had the feeling she’d hurt him. Too bad.

‘Mostly, yes,’ he murmured.

‘Oh, the ego—’

‘Can’t we chalk it up to a normal male reaction to a beautiful naked woman?’

There was