Shipwrecked with Mr. Wrong - By Nikki Logan Page 0,46

Sunday.’

Honor couldn’t have told him what colour the sky was, much less what day of the week it was. Must be lack of sleep. Tiredness made her unreasonable. ‘No. It’s my turn to sleep now. You get out.’

‘Charming! Are you always this friendly in the morning?’

Her shoulders straightened. ‘I don’t usually need to be friendly. I’m usually alone.’ For the first time, when she said the word alone the word she heard was lonely.

Damn.

He slid his powerful forearms up behind his head and regarded her from under shuttered lids, giving nothing away. ‘Is that any excuse for poor manners?’

Honor hissed. Okay. He wanted to do this...

‘Look. About yesterday...’

‘What happened yesterday?’

‘Ha ha.’ She didn’t buy his bemused frown for one second. Or was that just her feminine pride stinging? No way could he have forgotten the...dolphin foreplay...in the lagoon yesterday. That had to stick in the mind, even for a man like him. ‘Look, I’m sorry I was a bit abrupt about leaving the beach. I probably could have handled that better.’

He sat partly up, which only served to slide the sleeping bag further down. Her breath caught just as it did on his hip.

‘You’re apologising to me?’ His confusion seemed genuine this time.

‘Well, yes. I was rude.’

‘So was I. And presumptuous.’

Honor thought about it. ‘I’m not going to say I wasn’t hurt by what you said. But it wasn’t presumptuous.’ Or wrong, truth be told. She would much rather spend the rest of eternity in the muted silence of the fishes’ realm than deal with the world up here. Now that Rob had shown it to her.

He sat fully up and tentatively tugged the sleeping bag higher to increase its cover, as if he’d suddenly wearied of the sensual game. One part of Honor mourned the loss.

‘I made some comments that...I regret,’ he said. ‘I’ve only known you six days.’

Honor lifted her eyes and spoke from the heart. ‘You know more about me than some people I’ve known my whole life. You’ve earned the right to speak your mind.’ She swallowed. ‘Doesn’t mean I have to like it.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t say it more gently.’

Sincerity stained his eyes as deep a blue as the lower parts of the reef. She’d gladly spend eternity lost in those, too. She shrugged. ‘It’s not fatal. I’m sorry I walked away.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘How you did it, or that you did it at all?’

She took a breath. ‘I panicked. I should have explained better. I hurt you.’

‘No.’

‘Rob, I saw your face before you went back in the water.’

‘That was irritation.’

‘That was hurt.’ The question burned. ‘Why did it hurt you so much? I’m sure I’m not the first person ever to—’ she struggled for words that were kinder than reject you ‘—turn you down.’

He laughed loud and hard. ‘No. I had my share of that in the early years. Before I learned to refine my aim.’

Honor frowned. ‘Refine it to what?’

He shrugged. ‘Likely success.’

She stared, waiting for him to continue. He shifted awkwardly in the brightening tent. Honor realised she’d all but forgotten to feel uncomfortable about him still being here.

‘There’s a certain type of woman I do particularly well with, and another type I do spectacularly badly with.’

Honor choked and spoke before thinking. ‘Women without pulses?’

Heat roared up her skin as he smiled gently. ‘Women without agendas.’ His big toe wriggled out from under the covers to gently touch her thigh where she sat cross-legged next to him. It was a comfortable, undemanding touch. It just kept them connected.

‘Understand that I live two lives back home,’ he went on. ‘By morning I’m this mild-mannered archaeologist surrounded by some of the finest minds in our field. Then I hit Dalton Industries and everything changes. I’m expected to be one hundred per cent charisma. I wine and dine, I schmooze and charm. I’m good at what I do there.’

‘I’m sure you’re good at what you do in the lab, too.’

‘Yeah, I’m good. But I’m not the best. There are some serious players in that team. The women there aren’t the slightest bit affected by the things I’m good at.’

Honor doubted that entirely. ‘Maybe they’re just being professional.’

‘Some of them barely take me seriously.’

She frowned. ‘Because you’re good-looking?’

‘Because I’m lightweight. Compared to my colleagues.’

‘That is not true.’ Defensiveness surged out of her from somewhere. She swallowed it down and his toe stroked his thanks on her leg. That was it. Just one tiny point of contact and electric current surged out from it. ‘Why do you