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'And have the guy pounding on it at intervals all through the night?'
Her frown acknowledged the problem. 'Suppose I leave my door wide open
and my bed noticeably unoccupied?' she suggested, after a moment. 'Then,
when Rod comes along, the message that he's not wanted and I'm not
prepared to listen will sock him right between the eyes.'
'Sounds effective, but where will you be while this happens?' Josh asked.
'With you.'
His brows rose. 'In my cabin?'
'If you don't mind. Karl and Klaus could come back at any moment so I can't
use theirs, and I've told Rod that that we're involved. Look, if he is going
to return it'll be soon so I shan't disturb you for long,' she said, desperate to
stop him rebuking the hapless photographer.
Josh's mouth quirked. 'OK, but before I let you in I need a guarantee that
you're not going to pounce on me.'
'You've got it!' she assured him stiffly.
With its single bed, louvred wardrobe and chest of drawers, his cabin was
identical to hers. A wall lamp glowed golden, revealing a shelf of
paperbacks, a travel poster, discarded plimsolls.
'I'm whacked,' Josh pronounced, and climbed back berfeath the sheet. After
a minute or two, he raised his head and looked at her. 'Fine, you're not
pouncing, but there's no rule which demands you must stand. You are
allowed to sit down. I shan't scream.'
Flushing, Abby sat gingerly on the end of the bed. 'Why don't I switch off
the light and let you get some sleep?' she suggested.
'Whatever you wish,' he replied wearily.
The bedside lamp was doused and she returned to her perch. Abby heard the
creak of the boat, and the sound of Josh breathing. He was so near. So close.
Her back a ramrod, she sat and stared into the blackness, every nerve and
fibre janglingly aware of his long body stretched out beside her. She
frowned. Coming into his room had been a madcap idea. Why had she ever
suggested it? A few minutes ago it had seemed rational, but now. . . She
dreaded to think what Freud would have made of her motivation!
'This isn't working. There's no way I can sleep while you're with me,
pretending to be a totem pole,' Josh said, all of a sudden. Abby felt the
mattress dip and him reaching up, then the light came on* 'Tell me about
your boyfriend,' he requested.
She blinked against the glare. 'My boyfriend?'
'The guy who had problems with the gnome was it a serious relationship?'
he asked, sitting up to stuff two pillows behind him. 'Did you live together?'
'Yes. Glynn and I intended to get married.' She glanced at him. 'But as your
marriage was a mistake, so ours would have been, too.'
'Why?'
'Because, although we were very fond of each other, there was never much
excitement.' Abby made a face. 'Our relationship could be described as
comfortable, but drab.'
'How long were you together?'
'Three years.'
'Longer than I was married,' Josh reflected.
'Yes, but for the second two it was mainly force of habit which kept us
going. And when we did eventually part, no one wept and no one shouted.'
'You didn't throw things at him?' he enquired.
'No.'
'Have you thrown things at anyone else?'
'Just you.'
Josh reached forward and brushed his knuckles across her thigh. 'You know
what that means?' he murmured.
Abby's heart raced. Her skin tightened. He only had to touch her, and
longings were triggered off, desires, an instinctive need.
'No,' she lied.
'Yes, you do.' He caught hold of her hand and gently, but determinedly,
began to pull her towards him.
'Josh,' she protested, but he gave a final tug which tipped her off balance
and, as she fell against him, his mouth covered hers.
The chatterbox in her head told Abby to get up and go, but he began to
whisper his desire and caress her and the chatterbox went ignored. He
fondled the roundness of her breasts, and as her nipples hardened beneath
the lace she strained against him, the victim of a sweet, sweet ache. It had
not been like this with Glynn, she thought dizzily. Never. Ever.
With a satisfied murmur, Josh drew her down with him on to the bed. His
kisses became hungrier, his caresses more sensual. He wrapped his arms
around her, moulding her to the muscular strength of his body and forcing
her to acknowledge the masculine need which she had inspired.
'I want to touch you and kiss you and lick every part of you,' he said, and
peeled away the black lace top.
'I thought you liked breasts to be mysterious,' Abby murmured.
Josh drew back, his eyes dark blue and their lids heavy with passion. 'Not
yours, sweetheart,' he said huskily.
He held her breasts, savouring their weight and the smoothness of the skin
which he told her was like hot velvet. Tracing the outline of her nipple with
his finger, he watched it pucker and then bent his head to rasp his tongue
roughly around first one taut peak and then the other. Lost in a blur of
passion, Abby arched against him.
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