Chapter One
Rebecca shucked off her flip-flops and dumped her dress on one of the sun loungers. The early morning sun hovered above the horizon, bright gold against a cerulean sky. She smiled. Heaven. The ever-present weight on her shoulders lifted as she surveyed the clear water of the pool. At this time of the day, it was all hers, although given the size of the little boutique hotel, it was never going to get crowded. In fact, she felt more like a guest rather than the resident Pilates teacher slash maid slash waitress.
The Rebelo family had made her so welcome when she’d arrived yesterday afternoon, it was hard to believe that she was an employee– although she was still slightly distrustful. All this seemed just too good to be true, after the crushing disappointment of the last month.
Enough, Rebecca, she told herself sharply.You only have yourself to blame.
She straightened up, pulled on her goggles and, in one smooth fluid move, dived into the pool. The shock of the cold took her breath away and she struck out hard, fighting againstthe quick instinct to get out of the water. Flip, it was freezing! Forcing herself to keep going, she cut through the pool with a brisk, efficient crawl, her arms pumping as she gradually acclimatised to the temperature.
As the saying always went, once you were in, you got used to it. She’d only done a couple of lengths, revelling in the strength and power of her body– she did love to swim– when, through her goggles, she became aware of a blurred figure by the pool. She felt the mini tsunami as they dived in. Whoever it was, they immediately set a brisk pace, chopping up the water.
Slightly irritated by the intrusion and the sudden churning up ofherwater when she’d been enjoying a relaxed swim, she paused at the end of the pool to observe the interloper. It was a man with deeply tanned skin and dark hair, ploughing up and down in a fierce, determined fashion as if he were ready to kill someone. She watched his efficient freestyle, impressed by the sheer economy of movement. He had good technique and was fast. A small smile curved her lips– she bet she was faster.
She waited until he reached her end of the pool and when he touched the tiled wall to turn, she pushed off at the same moment, pacing herself to keep up with him, and then, with smug satisfaction that she’d got his measure, she purposefully lengthened her strokes and increased her kicks to overtake him. Reaching the opposite end, she was childishly delighted by the fact that she was three strokes ahead of him. Competitiveness ran through her– and her siblings– like words through a stick of rock. Feeling stupidly pleased with herself, she turned and pushed off again, this time increasing her lead by a couple more strokes. Ten metres in, she realised that he’d put on a spurt of speed and had caught up with her. She glanced over at him. He grinned at her. She grinned back at him.
Game on.
At the turn, they both launched into the length at the same moment. This time, she pushed harder, all her competitive instincts fully primed. He didn’t know who he was up against. She was Rebecca Hayes-Love; she didn’t do defeat– not in the sporting arena. The relationship part of her life might be a disaster, but growing up with two rugby-mad older brothers had taught her that the only way to survive was to find her own milieu in which to beat them. Running, cycling and swimming were her fight-back weapons and she’d excelled at all three. Sadly, despite her success, her trophies and medals would never surpass the boys’ achievements, which included rugby shields and an England cap. All of which were more highly prized by her parents than her own insignificant efforts.
Oops, she’d let her concentration slip.Head in the game, Rebecca.The man was a stroke ahead of her. Not going to happen. He was not going to beat her. She dug in and focused on powering her arms through the water, kicking hard. She overtook him and turned before him, and now she really went all out, determination powering her moves as she pulled ahead. Even though her lungs were starting to burn, there was no way she was giving up, not when she was winning. And then she wasn’t.Damn it.He was fast. They were neck and neck. They turned at the same time. She went ahead, gliding underwater for a good metre, but seconds after she surfaced, he was there again, now matching her stroke for stroke. Gritting her teeth, she dug deeper, her arms flashing furiously as she sliced through the water. He had stamina, she had to concede, but that was all she would concede. They turned again and she pushed off once more, her arms like windmills slicing through the water.
They swam another two lengths and each time she pulled ahead, he caught up with her. She ignored the lactic acid building up in her muscles. This time, when they reached the end of the length and she touched the wall three strokes ahead,she smirked to herself.Yes. Still got it.But as she was about to push off again, she realised that he had stopped.
In triumph she completed the length, grateful to slow down a little. Reaching the other end, she turned to find that he had hauled himself out of the water and his long, lean and very tanned legs were dangling in the water.
Under the water she did a little fist bump. She’d outswum him. Mind you, she could barely breathe, so it was gratifying to see that his chest was heaving as much as hers. Her heart pounded so hard that she could feel the blood thudding through her veins.
She gulped a little as she studied him further. That was one very fine chest. Tanned, broad and muscular, with the well-toned physique of an athlete rather than the sharply delineated muscles of a body builder. Definitely a very nice view. Would it be too obvious if she fanned herself for a moment?
Taking it more leisurely this time, she swam over and hauled herself onto the side of the pool beside him.
His face lit up and he grinned, giving her a weak wave and, still a little out of puff, said, ‘Hi. I think you might have killed me.’
She grinned back, her own lungs working hard to re-oxygenate while pure pleasure reverberated in ripples through her, post-exertion endorphins and feminine appreciation responding to his knockout smile.
‘Phew, you’re fast,’ she said, once she could breathe again.
‘You were faster,’ he acknowledged.
She nodded and couldn’t help the little smirk of triumph.
‘Today,’ he added.
She raised an eyebrow.
‘Next time,’ he said with a cheeky wink. ‘I’ll take you. I wasn’t prepared to find a shark in the pool with me this morning.’
‘I’m game for a rematch anytime you want,’ she replied with a quick laugh.
He laughed in response, rivulets of water dripping down a very handsome face, his wide smile revealing strong white teeth against his dark mahogany tan. He could have modelled for a toothpaste ad.
He held out a hand. ‘Felipe.’
She took it and found his grasp firm and decisive as he gave her hand a quick, respectful shake.
‘Rebecca,’ she said with another grin. Who didn’t love a good sport?
‘Felipe!’ a woman’s voice yelled. ‘We need you.’
