‘As a wife, especially for a billionaire, I’ll be superb.’

They stared at each other, and it became a prickly, tense, heart-stopping moment.

‘Do you mean in bed?’ Reith queried at last, with a significant scan up and down her figure.

‘Now, that,’ Kim said, ‘might depend on you—if it happens. What I mean is that I will run your homes beautifully, I’ll handle the entertaining, I’ll look the part and …’ she paused ‘… I’m good with kids.’

Reith said slowly, ‘I’ve got an apartment in Bunbury. I’ll lease it to your parents rent-free and I’ll set up an allowance for them—for as long as you stay with me, Kim.’

She drew a breath. ‘You drive a hard bargain.’

‘You’re not exactly playing softball yourself,’ he said.

About the Author

LINDSAY ARMSTRONG was born in South Africa, but now lives in Australia with her New Zealand-born husband and their five children. They have lived in nearly every state of Australia, and have tried their hand at some unusual occupations, such as farming and horse-training—all grist to the mill for a writer! Lindsay started writing romances when their youngest child began school and she was left feeling at a loose end. She is still doing it and loving it.

In 2011, Lindsay’s book THE SOCIALITE AND THE CATTLE KING won a R*BY award in the ‘Short Sexy’ category.

Recent titles by the same author:

THE GIRL HE NEVER NOTICED

THE SOCIALITE AND THE CATTLE KING

ONE-NIGHT PREGNANCY

THE BILLIONAIRE BOSS’S INNOCENT BRIDE

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

When Only

Diamonds

Will Do

Lindsay Armstrong

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PROLOGUE

REITH RICHARDSON slammed his phone down and swore beneath his breath.

His secretary, Alice Hawthorn, grey-haired and in her fifties, raised her eyebrows. ‘Francis Theron, I gather?’

‘You gather right,’ Reith agreed. ‘He doesn’t believe I’m a suitable person to be—’ he paused and grimaced ‘—within a hundred miles of his beloved winery, no doubt. Despite the fact he’s in dire straits, despite the fact my offer is the only one he’s got and he could end up bankrupt in the near future.’

‘Hmm …’ Alice mused. ‘A very socially prominent family, the Therons of Balthazar and Saldanha. Very proud.’

‘You know what they say about pride and the proverbial fall,’ Reith murmured. ‘OK, Alice, I’m withdrawing the offer I made. I’ll leave the Therons to their fate.’ He bundled the papers before him into a stack and handed them over to her.

‘There’s a daughter, you know,’ Alice said, as she packed the papers into a folder. ‘An absolute stunner, I believe. About twenty-two.’

Reith shrugged. ‘Maybe they need to find her a rich husband who can save them all.’

‘There’s also a son.’

‘I know, I’ve met him—all the right schools, top polo player, seriously into horses, in fact, but singularly unblessed with any business sense,’ Reith replied dryly then he smiled a crooked grin. ‘Maybe they need to find him a horsy but rich wife.’

Alice laughed and got up. ‘Will you be in Perth or Bunbury for the next few days?’

‘Bunbury, probably, there’s a stud down that way I’m interested in. Alice,’ Reith said with a frown as he looked around his office, one of his new luxury suite of offices in Perth that overlooked the Swan River, ‘I don’t like the artwork the interior decorator’s supplied. I don’t know why, it just doesn’t do anything for me.’

Alice looked around at the Impressionist landscapes and marine life on the walls. ‘Well, perhaps you ought to choose it yourself?’ she suggested.

Reith got up and strolled over to the windows. ‘All right, when I get the time,’ he said wryly. ‘Thanks, Alice.’

She took the hint but when she got back to her desk she sat deep in thought for a while. It wasn’t often her boss backed a wrong hunch—made an offer that was knocked back, in other words. In fact his timing was usually impeccable and he was little short of a genius when it came to buying businesses in trouble and turning them around. It was how he’d consolidated a small fortune made from a mining venture into a very large fortune, but this was obviously different. This was something that involved pride and history; the Therons went back a long way to their Huguenot ancestors in South Africa and viticulture ran in their veins.

Whereas Reith Richardson went back to a cattle station beyond the black stump …

Alice shrugged and patted the folder she was about to file away for the last time. Concerning her boss, there were times when she fervently wished herself twenty years younger, and other times when she felt rather motherly. This was one of those motherly times, she decided. A time when she wished he would be a little more understanding, a little less the steel-hard businessman.

What he really needed, she mused, was a softening influence in his life, like a wife. And heaven knew there were plenty of women who found his tall, dark looks fascinating but of course his disinclination to marry any of them could be due to the fact that he had lost his first wife.

Alice stopped her thoughts at this point as her phone rang and she was completely unaware that, at the same time, her boss was staring at a framed photo on his desk and thinking about his lost wife.

It wasn’t a photo of his wife but a boy, a freckled, fair boy who went by the name of Darcy Richardson. His only son, his only child. Born of a girl who had been little more than a child herself except in years. She’d been nineteen when they’d married because she was pregnant, twenty when she’d given birth to Darcy and died from unforeseen complications.

And he very much doubted he’d ever get over the guilt he felt. Guilt because it had all happened so quickly. He’d never expected a pregnancy but he should have sensed that she was being naïve when she claimed she was protected; a country girl who’d stopped taking the Pill when it made her sick. But most of all guilt over her dying—as if he’d caused it.

And now the guilt over Darcy, his son, who’d been mostly brought up by his maternal grandmother until six months ago when she’d died. Darcy, who wore a polite protective shell around him that he, his father, could not get through.

Darcy, who was coming soon from his boarding school, not only to remind his father of his mother, who he looked a lot like—not that he knew it—but also to be the perfect guest in his own home.

Reith Richardson dug his hands into his pockets and breathed savagely. Give him sterile business relationships rather than complicated, tense, still-waters-run-deep, personal relationships any day.

And thinking of that led him to think of Frank Theron and what he’d said on the phone…Not only have I got my family to think of but I’ve got my pride …

You’d be better to concentrate on your family and forget about your pride, Mr Theron, he reflected, much better. And his expression hardened as he thought of Francis Theron and his son Damien …

CHAPTER ONE

‘LADY—are you mad?’

A complete stranger said this as he got out of his car. He was breathing heavily.

There was dust swirling around them, dust raised when the stranger, in response to her signal for help, had almost driven his car into a large tree. He’d only corrected the situation at the last moment. The car was a late model gun-metal luxury four-wheel drive.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said hastily. ‘My name is Kimberley Theron and I’m in a dreadful hurry but the thing is I appear to have run out of petrol. Would you be able to help?’

‘Kimberley Theron?’ the man she was addressing repeated.

‘You may have heard of…well, not me so much but the name?’ She looked at him searchingly, and her eyes suddenly widened.

Talk about tall, dark and handsome—no, not handsome; that was too bland a way to put it—rugged and interesting said it much better, she decided. He looked to be in his middle thirties. He was tanned with wide shoulders and an admirable physique beneath cargo pants and a grey sweatshirt. He had dark eyes and short dark hair.

‘Kimberley Theron,’ he repeated and studied her comprehensively from top to toe, then her silver convertible, its cream leather upholstery now coated with dust. ‘Well, Miss Theron, has no one—’ he folded his arms across his chest ‘—ever told you that dancing into the road pulling up your skirt and exposing your legs could cause…chaos?’

‘Actually—’ she paused for a moment and screwed up her forehead ‘—no one ever thought to mention that!’ She looked down at her legs, now demurely clothed beneath her denim skirt. She looked up and her sapphire-blue eyes were laughing. ‘I am sorry,’ she said contritely, however. ‘But I guess there is a funny side to it. I really couldn’t think of any other way to make sure you stopped.’

He didn’t look amused. He swore beneath his breath instead and looked around. It was a country road with lion-coloured paddocks running along either side of it. There was no sign of any habitation in either direction; there was absolutely no sign of any traffic. The sun was beating down.

He said, ‘I can’t siphon off any fuel for you because I run on diesel; you don’t. Where are you going?’

‘Bunbury. Are you—You are going in the right direction. Is there any chance I could get a lift with you?’

The stranger looked Kimberley Theron up and down again. Early twenties, he guessed, and she was stunning, with red-gold hair, those sapphire eyes, a good figure, not to mention, he thought dryly, sensational legs.

There was also an innate liveliness to her you couldn’t mistake, even if she had just about caused you to collide with a very big tree.

There was more, though. Behind the liveliness and whimsical humour lurked a…what was it?…an unshakeable conviction that she was no mere mortal—she was a Theron! And, consequently, begging a lift from a complete stranger posed no hazards.

He grimaced. ‘All right, but are you just going to leave it here?’ He gestured to her car.

‘No.’ She hesitated. ‘Here’s the other thing, my phone has run out of battery. Would you have a mobile on you? And, if so, could I borrow it to call home and get them to come and pick the car up? I would pay for the call, naturally. And, naturally, I would pay for the petrol to get to Bunbury.’

‘You don’t have to—’

‘I insist,’ she told him with an imperious little toss of her head.

He looked at her then shrugged and pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. Moments later he was treated to a one-sided Theron to Theron conversation.

‘Hello, Mum, it’s Kim. Darling, be an angel …’

And there followed all the details of Kim Theron’s predicament, plus the indication that she wasn’t completely impractical as she gave a short but accurate description of his car, including the registration number. Then she ended the call and handed his phone back to him with a rueful expression.

‘Sorry, I hope you didn’t mind me giving my mother some details about you, but she’s a worrier.’

He looked at her ironically.

‘And that explains that, so I don’t have to feel completely stupid!’ she went on. ‘My mother borrowed my car and neglected to replace the petrol she used. I didn’t even think to check the gauge because I was in such a rush.’

‘Why are you in such a rush?’ he enquired.

‘Can I tell you as we go along?’

He hesitated briefly, then gestured for her to get in.

‘My friend Penny,’ she said, settling herself into the passenger seat and doing up her seat belt, ‘one of my best friends, is pregnant and the baby is—was due in a fortnight but she’s gone into labour this morning. Her mother’s in Melbourne—other side of the continent—her husband’s driving a barge out from Port Hedland. She has no one else and it’s her first baby.’

‘I see,’ he said. ‘Did it cross your mind, once you’d phoned home, to wait for one of your family to come and rescue you?’

She shook her head. ‘Saldanha, where I live, I mean, is half an hour’s drive the other way and by the time they’d organized things—’ she gestured expressively ‘—I could have lost hours.’ She turned to him. ‘Do you mind doing this?’

He changed gear to negotiate a sharp bend and wondered what she’d say if he told her that the last person he’d wanted to meet was a member of the Theron family of Saldanha and Balthazar …

‘I was going to Bunbury anyway,’ he said.

Kim watched him for a long moment, then, ‘What’s your name?’

‘Reith.’

‘That’s unusual. What is it? Welsh?’

‘No idea.’ He shrugged.

‘How strange,’ Kim murmured.

He flicked her another ironic little glance. ‘I suppose you know exactly where your name comes from?’

‘As a matter of fact, I do,’ she said gravely, although her eyes were sparkling. ‘I was named after a diamond mine.’

‘That’s—’ he paused ‘—curiously appropriate.’

‘What does that mean?’ Kim queried.

‘You look like a diamond kind of girl.’

‘I’m so glad you didn’t say I look like the kind of girl whose best friends are diamonds,’ she responded and tossed her red-gold hair. But she went on, apparently not seriously offended, ‘Want to know which diamond mine?’

‘Let me guess. The Kimberley mine in South Africa.’

‘Got it in one! You are clever…er…Reith. Not a lot of people—in Australia—know about Kimberley in South Africa although, of course, a lot of them know about the Kimberley area up north, also associated with diamonds.’

He said nothing.

‘May I borrow your phone again?’ she requested then. ‘I could ring the hospital and find out how things are going.’

Things were going apace at the hospital and Kim was blinking rapidly as she ended the call. ‘I’ll be lucky to get there in time!’

‘Hold on,’ he recommended.

She held on and the next ten minutes were breathless until they hit the outskirts of Bunbury and finally made the hospital.

‘Thanks so much,’ she panted. ‘I—’

‘Just go.’ He gestured.

‘Wait here, though,’ she ordered, ‘I’ll get the news. At least you deserve to know if everything’s all right. Besides I owe you some money.’ And she flung herself out of the car and up the hospital stairs.

Reith Richardson grimaced, hesitated for a moment then put his car into gear and was about to drive off when Kim reappeared and danced down the steps.

‘Seven pounds, ten minutes ago, a boy, mother and son are both fine—’ she beamed through the window ‘—and I can’t thank you enough. However, here’s the thing, I can’t pay you because I forgot to bring any money!’

‘I never expected to be paid for a couple of lousy phone calls, so forget it, Miss Theron.’

‘Well, I wish I could but I didn’t bring anything, actually.’

He stared at her. ‘You mean—no credit cards, no cash card?’

‘Nothing,’ she said ruefully. ‘Not that it’ll be a problem when my car arrives—but I just would love to take some flowers with me when I’m allowed in to see Penny. They have a florist here but—’

She stopped as Reith reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred dollars.

‘Oh, thank you so much! But look, I need your address so I can repay you.’ She fished in her pocket and brought out a scrap of paper and a pen.

Reith Richardson opened his mouth to tell her to forget it again, but he changed his mind as he put the money into her hand. ‘Have dinner with me, only if you feel like it.’ He named a restaurant and a time and, as she stepped back looking thoroughly surprised, he drove off.

At ten to seven that evening he was sitting at a table for two in a luxury restaurant that overlooked the bay. It was a blue and tinsel evening, deep blue sky and water through the wide windows, silver-white patterned moon looming in the sky.

Rather than the moon, he was contemplating the beer he’d ordered and a few other things. Would Kimberley Theron take up his invitation? Why had he issued it in the first place? Was there something about her that intrigued him—obviously, he thought impatiently—but what was it?

Her looks, her body, her legs? Had to be more than that …

‘Penny for them?’ the object of his thoughts murmured as she pulled out the chair opposite.

He stood up and had to smile in admiration.

She’d changed from her denim skirt and cotton blouse into a dusty-pink linen dress, sleeveless and round-necked, which she wore with a string of bauble-sized glass beads and emerald cork-soled platform sandals. Her hair was loose and casual and a pair of diamond earrings nestled in the red-gold strands.

She looked sensational but she also looked different, a more mature—no, that was the wrong word, he decided—a more sophisticated version of Kimberley Theron.

She slid into her chair with a sigh of relief, looked appreciatively at the moisture-dappled bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and said, ‘How nice. Nice to sit down, nice to think of a deliciously cool glass of bubbly. Today,’ she added as he sat down, ‘has been one of my wackier days.’

He poured her champagne. ‘Wacky? How are mother and son, by the way?’

‘They really are fine, despite his early arrival. And despite me arriving too late—not your fault,’ she hastened to assure him. ‘Wacky? Yes. When I got Penny’s call, she sounded so lost and scared I just dropped everything and…well—’ she smiled at him ‘—you know the rest of it. Incidentally—’ she reached into her purse and withdrew a hundred-dollar note, which she slid across the table towards him ‘—thank you so much.’

He let it lie on the table.

‘I gather you’ve got your resources back?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, my car got delivered to the hospital so I was able to go home and change, et cetera.’ She sipped her champagne. ‘Mmm…Delicious. Tell me something, Reith—what do you do?’

‘This and that.’

She looked comically askance at him but she was frowning. He’d changed his cargo pants and sweatshirt for jeans, a navy shirt open at the throat and a beautifully cut finest tweed sports jacket. And he wore a sports watch that would have cost a small fortune. All in all, he looked right at home in this very expensive restaurant, not to mention darkly attractive.

‘That sounds rather evasive.’ She traced the rim of her glass with one slender finger as she withdrew her senses from the masculine onslaught of the man and thought of his answer to her question.

‘It’s also true.’ He shrugged. ‘I specialize in buying and rescuing companies in trouble.’

Kim frowned. ‘What’s the appeal in that?’

He studied her for a long moment. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, usually one has a vocation; you’re drawn to medicine or law or farming or something.’

‘It’s the challenge,’ he said. ‘It’s always a learning curve but some business principles, supply and demand, for example, always stand whether you’re dealing with fashion or minerals or sheep. What do you do?’

She took another sip of champagne and looked thoughtful. ‘I teach. English,’ she said and smiled at his expression. ‘Thought that might surprise you,’ she murmured.

He grimaced. ‘Why?’

‘Why did I think it would surprise you? I get the feeling you don’t approve of me, Mr…um…Reith.’ She eyed him with a glimmer of wry humour in her blue eyes. ‘It’s quite a strong feeling,’ she added gently.

‘You did nearly cause me to wipe myself out,’ he reminded her.

She laughed. ‘Yes, well, I’ve already confessed to having a…an unusual kind of day. I’m generally a much more organized person.’

His lips twitched and he shrugged.

Kim planted her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. ‘You couldn’t have said it more eloquently if you’d actually spoken the words.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘What?’

‘You find that hard to believe?’

‘I …’

Kim sat back and interrupted. ‘Not that I mind. We’re a bit like ships in the night, aren’t we?’

He didn’t answer, merely studied her.

‘Would you mind if we ordered dinner?’

‘Not at all.’

‘That’s the other thing I messed up today,’ she confided. ‘I haven’t had a thing to eat since breakfast. And do you mind if I order lobster? I always have lobster here; I can thoroughly recommend it.’

‘Be my guest,’ he murmured.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s not cheap so I insist on paying for my dinner. Actually, I’d like to pay for yours too!’

As a way of cutting me down to size? Reith wondered. As a way of being a Theron and making others aware that they’re not quite in the same class?

‘As a way of saying thank-you for the lift today and for lending me money for flowers and suggesting dinner,’ Kim murmured.

Their gazes clashed.

Had she read his mind? he wondered, then became aware of a resolve forming within him that he didn’t think he’d be able to ignore—he wanted this girl in his bed; he wanted to find out how she liked being made love to, whether she was still a Theron to her fingertips when she was hot and excited and writhing beneath him.

‘Do you surf?’

They were out in the cooling night air, strolling towards the car park, when Reith asked the question.

‘Of course,’ Kim said without hesitation.

‘Of course?’ he queried, glancing down at her with some irony.

She paused and looked up. She wasn’t short, five feet six, plus her wedges tonight, which meant he had to be well over six feet, and a little frisson ran through her because he was not only tall but beautifully proportioned …

But why that look of irony? she wondered.

‘Have I said something wrong?’

He took her hand and swung it. ‘No, I suppose not.’

‘Now come on, tell me,’ she insisted.

He stopped walking and turned her to face him but it was a long moment before he replied. In fact as his gaze roamed up and down her figure then lingered ruefully on her legs, Kim experienced another frisson but this one seemed to sizzle between them.

Then he shrugged and said, ‘It’s just that I get the feeling you do everything well—ride, swim, surf, play tennis, play the piano, draw or paint, speak fluent—something or other and—’

‘Stop!’ She held up her free hand. ‘You’re having a go at me, aren’t you? You still think I’m rich and idle, despite the fact that I work.’

He rubbed his jaw reflectively. ‘Not idle, no, but for the rest of it, you have the sort of assurance that leads one to suspect you of attending a good finishing school. Do you do any of those things?’

‘I …’ Kim closed her mouth and shrugged resignedly. ‘I do swim and surf. I ride. I don’t play the piano but I do play the harp, I do play tennis, I do speak fluent Spanish—but I do not draw or paint!’ she finished triumphantly. ‘Mind you, I have a good eye for art,’ she confessed. ‘But, tell me this, what’s it all got to do with surfing?’

‘Should we go down to Margaret River for a surf tomorrow?’ He paused. ‘The weather forecast is good and the swell is up.’

Kim’s lips parted and her eyes lit up. ‘I can think of nothing nicer, Mr—what is your name?’

His eyes narrowed for no reason she could detect. ‘Richardson,’ he said and waited a moment. ‘Reith Richardson.’

‘Well, Mr Richardson, I’d love to! I haven’t surfed for a while.’

‘And you can just take off from your teaching job when and wherever?’ he queried.

‘Oh, no, but I have time off at the moment. I did some overtime in the boarding house.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Where shall we meet?’

‘Would you mind driving down to Busselton?’

‘No-o,’ Kim said slowly.

He swung her hand. ‘I have a very early appointment down there—it would save me driving back. We can go on in one car.’

‘Sure,’ she said easily.

He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Kim swallowed as a tremor of pure physical attraction towards this tall, dark, rugged stranger ran through her. But he didn’t feel like a stranger any more, although she didn’t know much more about him than she’d known earlier in the day.

Well, she knew he preferred steak to lobster, beer to champagne, that his hands were clean and scrubbed but scarred and callused as if he’d done plenty of physical work at some time or another. Yet he sounded educated and well-read.

He released her hand as they reached her car. ‘Try not to lure any more men to their doom against large, immovable objects, Miss Theron,’ he advised as she unlocked the driver’s door.

She laughed, ‘I won’t!’

‘Oh, and this.’ He took her purse from her and tucked her hundred-dollar note into it.

‘But—’

‘I’d like to pay for the flowers, that’s all. Goodnight.’

‘You know—’ Kim stared up at him ‘—I’ve got the feeling you’re quite addicted to getting your own way.’

‘I have been accused of that, yes,’ he agreed gravely. ‘It’s nonsense, of course.’ He paused. ‘On the other hand, we could be two of a kind.’

‘Do you think so?’ Kim asked wryly. ‘That could make for some uncomfortable times between us, assuming we last any kind of distance. Goodnight.’

His lips twitched. ‘It could. Yes, it could. Goodnight.’

Kim drove home in a thoughtful mood.

The moon was silvering the familiar landscape, so it wasn’t familiar any more but an exotic surround with secretive dark patches.

Of course, she knew it off by heart but, thinking of how secretive and unknown in the moonlight it looked now, her thoughts took off down another path. Was she entering an unknown period of her life?

How could she be as affected as she was by a man she’d only just met? There was no doubt he sent shivers down her spine—shivers of pleasure. One light kiss on her knuckles had not only raised goose bumps for her but it had caused her to warm to him as if they could be friends who cared for each other.

Or was that being extremely fanciful? she asked herself as she swung into the driveway of the estate called Saldanha, the place she had always called home.

Set against the background of the Darling Range foothills, Saldanha was special. The Harvey and Margaret River districts south of Perth in Western Australia were beautiful and diverse, with their white beaches, jarrah forests, sleek cattle and the sheer fertility that produced glorious gardens. And adjacent to Saldanha was the Balthazar Winery, also owned by her parents—the other, and probably most famous, export of the area that grew premium grapes was wine.

Both Saldanha and Balthazar—a Balthazar was a twelve-litre wine bottle—were the names brought by the Theron family, of Huguenot descent, from South Africa to the similar conditions and climate around Perth. The Theron family had also brought their viticulture skills and the Balthazar Winery had flourished. At the same time Saldanha, named after a sheltered bay north of Cape Town, had flourished and the Cape Dutch–style architecture of the house, white gables and a thatched roof, had become distinctive in the district.

So had the classic dry white that Balthazar was famous for as well as its Cellar Door, run on the estate and visited by wine-lovers from all over the world.

It was none of this Kim Theron was thinking of as she parked her car, greeted her dog, a devoted blue heeler that went by the name of Sunny Bob, and let herself into the darkened house.

Her parents were out and her brother no longer lived at home, although he kept his horses there, and the housekeeper had taken the opportunity to visit family.

But, as she switched on some lamps and kicked off her shoes, Kim’s thoughts were still firmly centred on Reith Richardson.

Was it unusual to suggest they go surfing? she wondered. Perhaps, but a great idea nonetheless.

She paused at the foot of the stairs as she tried to analyse her emotions. She was intrigued, without a doubt. But, of course, as the saying went: look before you leap …

She had no idea, as she stood with her hand on the banister, how that phrase was going to come back to haunt her.

Margaret River was beautiful.

The peaceful river gave its name to a district that stretched between two capes—Cape Naturaliste and Cape Leeuwin—and ran inland as well. The town of Margaret River was not the only one in the area; there were quite a few, from Busselton to Yallingup and Cowaramup and more. There were some magnificent kauri forests as well as some fascinating limestone caves. The whole district was renowned not only for its wine but also its cuisine.

It was straight to the beach that Reith Richardson steered his four-wheel vehicle, though, after he’d collected Kim from their appointed meeting place in Busselton, along with her surfboard—and her dog.

‘Hope you don’t mind,’ Kim said as she introduced them. ‘Reith, this is Sunny Bob, and this, Sunny Bob,’ she said to the blue heeler sitting politely at her feet, ‘is Reith. He’s a friend.’

‘How do you do,’ Reith said gravely but with his lips twitching as he patted the dog. ‘Is he for protection—or what?’

‘Oh, no!’ Kim denied. ‘Well, if the need ever arose—’ She gestured and shrugged. ‘But no, he loves the sea and he loves going out with me.’

Reith studied her for a moment. She wore colourful knee-length board shorts and a shocking pink bikini top under a string vest. Her hair was tied back and her beautiful designer sunglasses alone would have cost a small fortune.

‘You look the part,’ he commented as he transferred her board across, then looked at what was left in her boot. ‘What’s all this?’

‘I thought as much,’ Kim replied with a mischievous grin. ‘You’re a typical iron-man surfer with no thought of creature comforts. You can put it all in your car,’ she directed.

‘But—’

‘There’s only a sun umbrella, a couple of folding chairs and a cooler with food and beverages. What’s wrong with that?’ she asked, with her hands planted on her hips.

He grimaced, then grinned. ‘Nothing, I guess. I was going to drive us somewhere for lunch.’

‘Perish the thought,’ she said and looked around. ‘On a perfect day like this, who wants to leave the beach?’

Several hours later, Reith, with a beer in one hand and a chicken drumstick in the other, said, ‘You’re a genius. How did you know cold roast chicken, beer—or, in your case, wine—go down perfectly after a surf?’

Kim giggled. ‘Anyone knows that.’ She lay back in her folding chair and sipped her wine. Sunny Bob lay contentedly beside her, having had an energetic few hours chasing waves whilst Kim and Reith had had a magnificent surf. He had his own bowl of cool fresh water.

She’d wrapped a pink sarong around her before she’d set out lunch. The sun was just starting to slide down from its zenith and there were a few wispy clouds trailing across the sky. The tide was out now so the roar of the surf was muted but you could still taste the salt in the air and feel the prickle of it on your skin. And it was hot and still, apart from some cicadas in the bush behind the beach.

‘Why did you suggest this?’ Kim’s question seemed to pop out of nowhere.

‘Why not?’

She hesitated. ‘It just seems unusual for a businessman—look, I’m not complaining,’ she said with a grin, ‘but think barristers, stockbrokers, CEOs, medical men and you tend to spend a lot of time going out to dinner or cocktail parties or nightclubs or the theatre. Occasionally you may get a day out on a yacht or a day at the races but they’re often too busy making money even to do that.’

‘I spend a lot of time working behind a desk these days. Whereas I used to—’ He paused.

‘Go on. Used to—?’ she prompted.

‘Work on cattle stations, then I was a miner.’

‘I wondered about that.’

He looked at her. ‘Is it so obvious?’

‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘It was your hands.’

He looked at his hands and grimaced. ‘Anyway, I love the sea—most people who don’t get to see it until their teens do—and it’s good exercise.’

‘So you grew up inland?’

‘Yep.’ He stared out over the ocean and for a moment there was an intensity to his dark gaze that made her frown and believe that he did love it. ‘And beyond the black stump, speaking metaphorically,’ he added.

Kim smiled. ‘Are you married?’

He stirred. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘All the best ones are, according to Penny.’ She pushed herself up against the back of her chair, bent her knees and smoothed her sarong over them. ‘What kind of answer is that—are you or aren’t you?’

‘I’m not. I once was but she passed away.’

Kim sat up, looking appalled. ‘You mean she died? What from?’

He nodded. ‘A rare complication in childbirth.’

‘Is…Did the baby survive?’

‘Yes. His name’s Darcy and he’s ten now.’

Kim lay back. ‘I’m sorry—very sorry.’

‘Thanks,’ he said briefly, then smiled slightly. ‘What will Penny make of that?’

Kim shrugged. ‘Put you in a special category, I guess.’

‘How did I come up, anyway?’

Kim looked a touch embarrassed. ‘I went to see her this morning before I drove down to Busselton. Naturally, I told her why I was dressed for the beach,’ she said.

‘Naturally.’

‘Oh, look—’ Kim closed her eyes ‘—ever since Penny got married she’s been trying to sell me the state of matrimony as if it’s the only state of bliss on the planet. Mind you, that doesn’t stop her from warning me of the folly of falling for married men.’

‘I think I get the drift,’ he replied seriously.

Kim tossed him an annoyed little glance. ‘Somehow you’ve made me feel about twelve,’ she said crossly. Then her lips twitched. ‘Penny and I have known each other since we were six so we’re pretty close. And I suppose pretty girlish at times. But it’s not girlish to want to know…Look, it doesn’t matter.’ She got up suddenly, stripped off her sarong and ran out from beneath the shade of the umbrella and across the hot sand to where the tide was tracing silvery crescents of foam on the damp sand.

And, barking joyfully, Sunny Bob streaked along beside her. The last to join her as she splashed in the shallows was Reith Richardson.

‘You know,’ he said, ‘I would actually like to meet your Penny.’

‘Why?’ Kim stood still and stared at him.

‘If it hadn’t been for her I wouldn’t have met you. Besides, maybe I could put her mind at rest.’

She eyed him but if he was laughing at her, he was hiding it well. There was no hiding, however, the streamlined strength of his body. He was lightly tanned and beautifully proportioned and she had to turn away suddenly as her breath caught in her throat at the thought of being in his arms.

She felt his hand on her and she looked over her shoulder and up at him.

It was a long, sober look they exchanged but it sent tremors of excitement and danger coursing through Kim’s body because, in no uncertain terms, it told her that this man wanted her. She could see it in the way his gaze lingered on her breasts, her slim bare waist, her legs. Then he looked back into her eyes.

She licked her lips and curled her hands into fists because she desperately wanted to touch and be touched intimately, but Sunny Bob chose that moment to break the ‘moment’. He raced up and threaded his way between them, and stayed there.

‘Saved by the bell,’ Reith murmured as he removed his hand.

Her eyes widened. ‘Sunny Bob?’

‘I get the feeling I’m on notice. Behave or else.’

Kim had to smile. ‘Well—obviously,’ she hastened to assure him, ‘I wouldn’t allow him to attack you.’

‘Thank you,’ he said formally, ‘but having narrowly escaped death on the road because of you, I don’t think I’ll take any more risks. Do you dance?’

She turned round with a frown. ‘Of course I dance! What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘Silly question,’ he murmured. ‘Do you take Sunny Bob out dancing with you?’

‘Of course not,’ Kim denied and had to stifle a chuckle at the mental image this conjured up. ‘Why?’

‘I thought if we went dancing it might be easier to get close to you without there being any misunderstandings with your dog.’

This time Kim didn’t even try to stifle her laughter.

‘It’s not that funny,’ he assured her.

‘What exactly did you have in mind?’

‘Sorry to fall into the category of your typical “businessmen” but I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me and then we could go on to a nightclub.’

‘I am also sorry,’ she said and directed a sparkling blue look up at him, ‘for all the dangerous situations I’ve put you in, Mr Richardson. As for your suggestion, I like the sound of it very much and I will attempt to keep things safe for you.’

He grimaced.

‘But I’ll have to go home to get changed and then drive back into Bunbury—’

‘I’ll send a car for you,’ he said, interrupting her.

Kim looked at him with a faint frown in her eyes as she wondered why he didn’t pick her up himself.

He gestured. ‘I have a heap of stuff to deal with—the penalty for taking a day off.’

‘Well, OK. Thanks.’

‘Seven-thirty suit you?’ He raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Fine, but really, I could drive in.’

‘No.’ He said it lightly but quite definitely.

‘If that isn’t an example of how you like to get your own way, I don’t know what is,’ she commented a little dryly.

‘Not at all,’ he denied. ‘It’s concern for your welfare, that’s all.’

Several expressions chased across Kim’s face, exasperation being foremost. Then her lips twisted and she looked rueful. ‘Hoist by my own petard. All right.’

He laughed.

CHAPTER TWO

THERE was no one home when Kim got back to Saldanha from Margaret River.

There was nothing unusual in this. Her parents travelled frequently as well as socializing often and they were currently in Perth.

Kim taught at a boarding school down the coast at Esperance so she’d moved down there for term time but she spent the school holidays at home.

Fortunately, most of her formal clothes still resided in her bedroom at home and she was able to have a choice of what to wear for dinner and a nightclub with Reith Richardson.

Her bedroom was always a comfort to her. Her mother had given her carte blanche to redecorate it when she left school and she’d created a blue room, saying, ‘If you can have a green room, why not a blue one?’ And it was not only where she stored her clothes and slept, it was where she read, dreamed, played her harp and wondered sometimes what kind of a wife and mother she would be.

She showered and washed her hair while she thought what she would wear, then, decision made, thought back over the day. And she was a little startled to feel a tremor run through her just at the thought of Reith Richardson …

I’m falling, she thought. In love or prey to a massive physical attraction? Strange, he didn’t lay a hand on me today, other than just before…‘You made your intentions clear,’ she said to Sunny Bob, who was lying on the carpet beside her.

The dog lifted his head and thumped his tail, then went back to sleep.

Kim grimaced and pictured what would have happened but for Sunny Bob. She would have revelled in Reith’s arms, she knew. Just the thought of it now made her blush and she picked up her perfume bottle and touched the cool glass to her cheeks.

Whoa, she thought then. Take it slowly, Kim. Don’t let this get out of hand. You need to know a lot more about this man …

She put the bottle down and picked up her brush, turning it slowly over and over in her hand as she thought of some of her actions today. Such as, for example, her precipitous dash from the cool and shade of the umbrella down the beach to the water earlier.

What had prompted that had been embarrassment. Yes, she wanted to know more about him but, in hindsight, asking him if he was married had sounded juvenile, and then intrusive, especially in the light of learning he had lost his wife.

So what was it about him that threw her off her usually even keel? she wondered. That underlying disapproval she’d sensed in him from the start? But why would he disapprove of her? Unless he thought she was completely wacky. But, if so, why would he want to keep on seeing her …?

Perhaps that was part of her enjoyment in his company, however—the light-hearted sparring she, at least, undertook, to challenge his perception of her?

She shook her head and stood up and got dressed. Her choice was a pair of dark grey palazzo pants and a silvery-grey halter top with wide lapels at the front and a low back. She wore no jewellery and no bra. Her shoes were high black sandals, her hair was sleek and smoothed back in a chignon.

Not over-dressed, not under-dressed, just right, she thought as she studied her reflection. The sun and the surf had given her a glow but there was still a frown in her eyes, indicating some inner unease.

She wandered over to her harp and plucked the strings. Romance, she conceded, had been a slightly bumpy road for her until she’d learnt to sort the wheat from the chaff—sort the men who were on the make and drawn by her wealthy parents and background more than by her soul, she thought with a dry little twist of her lips.

And, sadly, there had been more of the ‘on the make’ kind than the other with the result that she was very wary these days and on the lookout for fortune-hunters. Wary, somewhat hardened and definitely cynical. But did Reith Richardson fall into that class?

On the surface, it appeared not. He didn’t seem to be at all interested in her background, but of course they’d only known each other for a short time. Yet there was something—her brow creased—a sort of stamp of authority about him that was impressive. There was also a reserve she sensed.

She sighed and picked up her purse at the sound of a car on the drive. ‘Just—take it very slowly with this man,’ she advised herself and went downstairs to be driven into town.

A few hours later, she stirred in his arms and said in a low husky voice, ‘Do you ever take your own advice?’

He swung her round on the small, darkened, crowded floor with its coloured spotlights above, and they came together again. They’d danced for hours. It was the height of sophistication, the nightclub, on the second floor of a beautifully restored old building in Bunbury, and the music had been sensational.

‘Sometimes.’ He looked down at her rather wryly. ‘How about you?’

‘Not always.’ She laid her head on his shoulder as, rather than dancing, they swayed to the music and, as she’d suspected, she revelled in being in his arms.

In fact, when she’d first laid eyes on him, when she’d walked into the restaurant and he’d stood up in a dark suit, the jacket of which had moulded his broad shoulders, she’d missed a step because he’d been so darkly attractive. From that moment on she’d been physically conscious of him in a way that had taken her by storm because she’d never felt this way before, never had her senses so stirred up by a man.

At the same time as a river of rhythm had flowed through her veins, so had a river of sensuality. His hands on her hips had ignited a swathe of sensation up and down her body. And to rest her body against his, to feel the hard strength of him, the power, had made her feel as light as a feather and giddy with pleasure.

‘Not always, which is very stupid of me. I—’

The music stopped, the band announced they were having a break and some recorded music took over.

Kim didn’t finish what she was saying and sighed as they drew apart, then she led the way back to their table.

‘More champagne?’ he queried.

She shook her head. ‘Just some iced water, thanks.’

‘Not a bad idea,’ he agreed. ‘Why stupid? Now? At this moment in time?’ he queried.

Kim put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her clasped hands. ‘I was going to take things very, very slowly with you, Mr Richardson,’ she said. ‘That was not supposed to include dancing the night away.’ Kim smiled austerely. ‘Do you have the same problem I have?’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘The disinclination to keep my hands off you?’

‘Something like that,’ she said ruefully and thanked the waiter who brought them two glasses of iced water with slices of lemon. ‘But perhaps we should—’ She paused.

‘We should look before we leap?’ he suggested with some irony.

Kim narrowed her eyes as she caught the irony and said tartly, despite it being not what she wanted to do at all, ‘My sentiments entirely.’

He put his head on one side and studied her. ‘That annoyed you?’

‘Not at all.’

‘That I should feel we need to stop and think?’ he persisted.

‘Well…no, we should! But—’ she paused ‘—you didn’t sound entirely genuine. More, in fact, as if you were paraphrasing, with sarcasm, what you thought I would say.’

‘It was the awful euphemism I used that offended me,’ he said.

Kim stared at him. ‘Look before we leap?’ she murmured, then her lips curved and she started to laugh.

He put his hand over hers on the table and laughed with her, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

Then he looked at his watch. ‘Your car will be here shortly. I ordered it for midnight.’

Kim removed her hand. ‘That solves that. I can go home feeling like Cinderella.’

He ignored that. ‘Do you have any more time off?’

Kim blinked at the change of subject. ‘Two more days.’

‘Tomorrow, would you like to help me select some classy artwork?’

Her lips parted.

‘You did say you had a good eye for art.’

‘What’s it for?’

‘Some offices—some new offices in Perth. I’m not that keen on what the interior decorators have come up with.’

She thought for a moment then she shrugged. ‘All right. Yes, I’d like to. I have a couple of favourite galleries. You know—’ she looked at him consideringly ‘—you’re clever.’

He looked surprised. ‘Why?’

‘You’ve defused us. There we were, a pretty hot item on the dance floor, but now we’re talking art and I’m about to be shipped off home.’ She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands and narrowed her eyes. ‘I’m just not sure why you’re taking this course but you’re right,’ she said mischievously, ‘you should always look before you leap.’

‘Kim—’ he pushed back his chair and stood up ‘—come with me.’

She raised her eyebrows but shrugged when she got no response and rose to follow him. He led her out of the main room, along a passage and onto a secluded balcony overlooking the street.

There Reith paused and looked up and down the street. Whatever he saw—nothing—must have gained his approval because he turned back to Kim, took her in his arms and kissed her swiftly but at the same time comprehensively.

So comprehensively she clutched him when their lips parted and she could only say his name on a note of stunned amazement as tremors of desire ran through her body.

‘Kim?’

‘You…I…I mean,’ she stammered, ‘why did you do that?’

His dark eyes rested on her lips, then the lovely line of her throat and the curves of her breasts beneath the silvery-grey silk of her halter top.

‘Why?’ he repeated and smiled suddenly, a wicked little smile full of masculine arrogance. ‘I wanted to.’

Kim gasped. ‘That’s…But I thought…You were the one who…hosed us down!’

He shrugged. ‘You were the one who thought she was being shipped home like Cinderella.’

Kim touched her lips and opened her mouth to speak as a long black limousine pulled into the kerb down below.

She eyed it, then turned back to him. ‘So?’

‘I just wanted to make it clear that, while I believe we should exercise some caution, I’d much rather not be shipping you home.’

Kim stared up into his eyes and saw they were amused, wicked, but also just a shade rueful.

‘You…You’re serious,’ she said incredulously.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘That…that makes me feel a bit better,’ she conceded. ‘OK—time and place for tomorrow?’ she added huskily.

‘You name it.’

She thought for a moment, then did so.

‘Fine.’ He bent his head and kissed her lightly. ‘Goodnight. Sleep well.’

Kim donned black silk pyjamas and sat down at her dressing table when she arrived back at Saldanha.

‘It’s just you and me,’ she murmured to Sunny Bob, who’d accorded her an enthusiastic but slightly puzzled welcome because of the strange black car.

‘Puzzling days, you’re right,’ she said now as she smoothed cleanser onto her face and wiped it off with a tissue. ‘For example, Sunny Bob,’ she continued her conversation with the dog, ‘I thought I felt better when he said he’d kissed me because he wanted to, and he wasn’t that keen on shipping me home. Now I’m not so sure.’

She moistened a cotton pad with toner and patted it onto her skin, enjoying the cool feel of it.

Because the thing is—I do feel shipped home, she continued her monologue internally. What’s more, I feel as if I’m the one making all the running, so to speak—how dare he do that to me?

Am I? she asked herself next, as she massaged a night cream into her skin. Making all the running?

No, look here, he keeps suggesting things, he’s the one who keeps pushing us onwards and upwards.

She grimaced at her choice of words, then she thought, with a frown, yes, he does, but he’s also the one who holds back. Why? Is there a sort of no-go zone around him or is it only my imagination? Why would that be, though, if it was so? Am I still a rather ridiculous little rich girl to him?

Am I being observed like some sort of scientific phenomenon he hasn’t experienced before? Or is this stop/start approach meant to entice me on?

She put the tub of night cream with its gold top down with a little thump as a flash of annoyance at the thought claimed her, and she got up and roamed around the room.

Finally she got into bed and turned the light off but her thoughts took another direction, one not greatly removed, however.

Should she call it off?

Should she pull a really arrogant, if not necessarily rich, stunt and simply not turn up tomorrow?

Or, even better, have a message delivered to him as he waited for her, to the effect that she’d decided she had better things to do …

She sat up suddenly as it struck her—forcibly—that it had only been two days—she’d only known Reith Richardson for two days! How could she be going through this level of turmoil for a man she barely knew?

She lay back and commanded herself to breathe slowly and calmly but it didn’t work in helping her to fall asleep.

CHAPTER THREE

‘SLEEP well?’

‘No,’ Kim said flatly.

‘Neither did I, if it’s any help,’ Reith Richardson offered.

Kim switched her attention from the painting she was studying and looked up at him. She wore a fitted leather miniskirt in peach with a loose scarlet top in a filmy material. Her shoes were high cork wedges, her hair was looped back in a roll, she had big diamond-studded gold hoops in her ears and there were the faintest blue shadows beneath her eyes.

She looked, he thought wryly, gorgeous, from her red-gold hair down to those sensational legs, but moody. And he was presented with a sudden mental picture of her waking up in his bed with that same moody expression. Could she maintain it, though, if he cupped her breasts, then drew his hands down her body and made love to her slowly, very slowly, until they were both on fire? Careful, he warned himself, remember who this is …

She said, ‘Why should it be any help?’ then gestured as if to erase the words. ‘It doesn’t matter. Look, it’s very difficult to choose art when you have no idea where it’s going to end up.’

‘I’ve got some sketches.’

‘You’ve also got to be in the mood,’ she added.

He paused and narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m getting some pretty distressed vibes here so, starting at the top, is it that time of the month?’

‘No,’ she snapped.

‘Is it the lack of really good sex then?’ He shrugged. ‘Can give you the blues.’

Kim beamed a glance of the opposite—pure blue fire—his way but at the same time a mental image of her lying naked in his arms and as aroused as he was streaked through her mind. And she couldn’t for the life of her decide what annoyed her more—the tingle that went through her, lovely though it was, or the fact that he could do this to her after shipping her home last night.

‘No,’ she said through her teeth and was about to add a pithy comment, although she hadn’t actually thought of one, but he interrupted.

‘Have you had breakfast?’

She closed her mouth, then opened it again. ‘What makes you think I didn’t?’ she answered.

‘Did you?’

She looked mutinous. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’

She shrugged. ‘I went for a ride, then I was running late.’

‘Another wacky day in the making,’ he commented, and put his arm through hers. ‘Come.’

‘Where? We haven’t picked a thing yet.’

‘You’ll see.’

She shrugged again, as if to say she didn’t give a damn one way or the other, and walked out with him.

An hour and a delicious mushroom omelette later, Kim looked around at the rustic restaurant he’d brought her to and said ruefully, ‘You were right. Sorry. I feel much better.’

‘Good. Is that all it was? A lack of food.’

‘Don’t start that again,’ she warned, then grimaced as she recalled her turmoil of the night before. ‘Not entirely, but I do find it hard to be miserable for long.’

‘Miserable?’ He frowned.

‘Confused. Not one hundred per cent sure what game you’re playing, Mr Richardson, put it that way.’

He raised an eyebrow and waited. When she offered no more, he said questioningly, ‘Game?’

‘I can’t work out whether you’re trying to seduce me or not.’

Their gazes clashed.

‘There’s a certain—’ she moved her hands around each other ‘—stop/start approach you employ that I find a bit strange.’

‘Are you suggesting we should jump into bed?’

Kim smiled but there was a touch of frost to it. ‘No. But perhaps I should let you know that the disapproval and reserve is not all on your side.’

‘That’s what you think it is—disapproval?’

‘Yes. Besides which, I have the feeling you’re a loner at heart!’ She said it almost jauntily.

‘Would you prefer it if you had to fight me off?’ he asked.

‘Naturally not. Look, I’ve had enough of this conversation—you’ll have me all gloom and doom again if we’re not careful. Show me your sketches,’ she commanded.

He pulled some papers out of his jacket pocket and handed them over to her.

She smoothed them out. ‘Hmm …’ she said eventually. ‘Not bad. Do you have any preferences?’ She opened her hands. ‘Do you like your art conventional, for example, or could you live with a bit of—’ she broke off and smiled suddenly ‘—wackiness?’

He stirred his coffee thoughtfully. ‘I don’t mind a bit of wackiness.’

‘Good,’ she approved briskly. ‘Do you have any pet hates? For example, I don’t like—sorry, I know you love it—but I don’t like seascapes. With a passion.’

He looked amused. ‘Why not?’

‘I’m not sure. Perhaps you just can’t capture the movement of the sea in paint. Any of those dislikes—or anything you particularly like?’

He rubbed his jaw. ‘I’ve seen some Aboriginal art that has a sort of mysterious power that draws you in—it’s hard to describe but it makes you feel it’s alive.’

Kim put her cup down and sat up, her expression heavy with frustration. ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me this sooner?’

‘You have access to it?’

She nodded. ‘I have friends who get right to the source, painters who still live in their traditional areas and are able to transfer the sheer magic—’ she clenched a hand and her face glowed ‘—of their culture onto canvas.’ She opened her purse and pulled out her phone. ‘Hold thumbs they’re not out in the desert.’

They weren’t out in the desert so Kim took Reith to their gallery and they spent nearly the whole of the rest of the day going through canvases, making choices and deciding on frames.

Finally, he suggested dinner.

Kim agreed but told him she’d like to shower and change. ‘And don’t worry about sending me around in great big black limousines,’ she told him. ‘It doesn’t do much for my mood. Anyway, I’m used to driving in and out of Bunbury.’

He looked at her, smiling. ‘OK. What do you suggest restaurant-wise?’

She thought for a moment, then she told him with a toss of her head that she had a craving for pasta and nothing else would do. She also named a restaurant.

‘So be it,’ he said gravely.

Kim suffered a moment’s disquiet. ‘Do you like pasta? If you don’t I suppose we could—’

‘It would not be game to dislike pasta,’ he broke in to say.

She looked disconcerted for a moment, then pulled a face at him and retreated to her car.

A couple of hours later, she parked her car in Bunbury and walked towards the restaurant.

She’d changed into a long, floaty flame-coloured dress streaked with white, and nude platform shoes. She’d left her hair loose and she carried a boxy little gold bag.

Reith was waiting for her and she walked towards him with her long free stride and her dress billowing around her, only to slow down then come to a stop a couple of feet away from him.

She shivered suddenly as his dark gaze roamed up and down her. Because there was something completely riveted about him and the way he was examining her body. In fact, she got the feeling she was naked beneath that compelling gaze, that he’d mentally undressed her, even dispensing with her underwear, and it was tense, yet, at the same time, incredibly erotic. It sent her pulses racing and tremors of desire running through her.

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