Shipwrecked with Mr. Wrong - By Nikki Logan Page 0,28

this was the first time he’d ever admitted anything of the kind. She studied his face and realised that his pained expression was not embarrassment or awkwardness. It was something else. She felt her reserve slip more than a little, and another piece of armour fell away.

‘You’re in pain today because of me,’ he said. He looked up at her with naked, raw shame.

Her breath caught.

There was the man she’d been wondering about.

* * *

Avoiding Rob on an island scarcely more than one square kilometre took some doing but she’d pulled it off for a whole twenty-four hours. It was no accident she’d spent last night watching for hatchlings and most of today sleeping, lingering in the tent longer than she needed to until she was sure he wasn’t around.

What had possessed her to reveal her most intimate secret to someone she hardly knew? She’d said things she’d never even told her counsellors. She couldn’t have picked a less suitable person to open up to. The last sort of someone to trust with a chunk of her soul.

She had a good handle on Rob Dalton after their few days of forced cohabitation. He was a player. Charming, undoubtedly talented, probably spoiled. Things came easy to men like him and he had the look of someone who hadn’t had to fight for much in his life.

She was attracted to him, no question. Flashes of his strong body in the surf, in the wetsuit, against her skin kept coming back at inappropriate times. His casual confidence was appealing to someone who lacked the kind of social grace that he was gifted with. And that lazy smile...

Honor rinsed the toothpaste out of her mouth and spat into the earth, then covered it with loose sand. More roughly than she’d meant.

There had been the occasional intriguing glimpse beneath the very pretty façade, but otherwise she found him safely one-dimensional. All good looks and superficial charm. And that was the way she’d like to keep him.

Until yesterday. His raw shame drew her to him. She’d been intrigued by the imperfection. Something she suspected they might both have discovered at the same time.

She’d panicked and dashed off into the trees without thanking him for getting her safely back to camp, without acknowledging his apology. Not that he had apologised, technically, but he was trying to. Maybe that was new to him, too?

She sighed. Maybe yesterday wasn’t the finest day for either of them. He had manipulated her into going out on his boat, intentionally or not, and she had dumped all her troubles into his lap and then left him hanging when he’d opened up to her with his shame.

Was that why she’d panicked? She didn’t want to be drawn to him, to like him or understand him. Imagining herself in his arms was nothing more than pure physical reaction. It was so much simpler when he was superficial and unlikeable.

Safer.

She’d already exposed her soul; exposing her heart, too, would be the height of foolishness.

Honor shook her head to clear her unwanted thoughts and pulled her shirt on over her swimsuit. Yesterday’s shirt and the one from the day before. She only brought a handful of clothes to the island. What did it matter if the birds and crabs saw her in the same clothes week in and week out? It was ridiculous to be self-conscious about it now just because there was a man on the island. She reminded herself that Rob was in a worse position. He only had the clothes he’d sailed out in and a couple of spare T-shirts from The Player. The man was gadding around, shirtless, in black board shorts most of the time, but every time she saw him, it was like seeing that sensational torso for the first time. If the catch in her breath was any indication.

Honor moved away from camp towards the far side of the island, back towards the bay where the Emden memorial stood proudly. It would be the last place he would expect to find her if he was looking for her. It was also the first place she’d be likely to find him if he wasn’t.

She ignored the thought.

She stepped carefully around clumps of trees bordering the inland lake, moving quietly so as not to disturb the wildlife resting there. The collective noise of hundreds of birds clucking, chortling or roosting disguised her movements and allowed her to reach the opposite shore with relative stealth.

Her heart lurched as she spotted him through