The problem was in not being able to act normally around him. He made her so tense all the time, having to fight the attraction he exerted on her. She should probably check where he was, try to judge from his expression if her swift response to his angry command had mollified the offence she had given. On the other hand, if she just sat here quietly, keeping her attention on the women, she shouldn’t get into any more trouble.
‘Daisy…’
Her nerves instantly twitched at the sound of Ethan’s voice, but at least there was no sharp edge to it this time. The tone held quite a pleasant lilt and she quickly constructed an inquiring smile as she turned in response to the call.
He stood halfway along the side of the pool, beckoning to her, obviously intent on a private tête-à-tête. It meant she had to get out of the water and go to meet him, wearing nothing but a dripping-wet bikini since she’d left her towel on the other side of the pool and she didn’t dare keep him waiting while she went and picked it up.
‘What’s it like working for such a gorgeous hunk?’ one of the women slung at her curiously as Daisy rose to her feet and started up the steps.
Difficult almost slipped off her tongue. The spectre of Lynda Twiggley blasting her for indiscretion rattled her just in time. She flashed a smile at the woman, quickly answering, ‘He’s actually very kind, very generous.’
‘Then you’ve got a brilliant package there.’ An encouraging grin was thrown back at her. ‘You should go for him, Daisy.’
She shook her head. ‘Not a good idea. But right now I have to go to him, so please excuse me.’
The women laughed at her quip and she left them to their own amusement, forcing her legs to walk around the pool to the man who was, indeed, brilliantly packaged, and the gorgeous hunk part of the package was very much on display. It didn’t matter how sternly she told herself not to find him desirable. She did. Any woman would.
He had the physical perfection of Michelangelo’s David, every masculine muscle shining under taut, tanned skin, vibrantly alive, not carved in cold white marble. Ethan Cartwright, wearing only a brief scrap of black fabric that seemed like a brazen pouch exhibiting even more sexual power, was hot, hot, hot, and just the sight of him made her own blood race with heat. It was impossible to control the response he drew from her.
Her heart thumped. Her stomach fluttered. She was acutely conscious of her bare thighs rubbing together as she walked towards him. And worst of all, with his gaze directly on her approach, taking in the full vision of her body in the red bikini, she felt her nipples tightening into hard bullets with no way of hiding that fact under a wet bra. It was difficult to resist the urge to fold her arms against her chest. Reason insisted that action would only emphasise her self-consciousness and a stiff bolt of pride refused to give into such obvious weakness.
Nevertheless, anxiety rushed her into speech the moment she was close enough to him not to be overheard. ‘Have I done something else wrong?’
His far too sensual mouth moved into an ironic grimace. ‘No. I want to apologise for being so curt with you. I didn’t mean to frighten you into acting like a scalded cat. Your job here is not at risk, Daisy. I just don’t want you to be scarred by your experience with Lynda Twiggley. It won’t hurt you to be more relaxed with me.’
‘No. Okay,’ she agreed, relieved that he was no longer annoyed with her. To be absolutely sure of not making another mistake, she asked, ‘What is the agenda now?’
He waved towards the group of men at the other end of the pool. ‘The guys and I are about to start the barbecue and put the meat on. Why not rustle up the ladies to help bring down the salads and generally get ready for lunch? No hurry. Keep it casual and friendly.’
‘Will do,’ she promised.
‘They’ll all be gone by three o’clock. Children to be picked up from school and an early start to the weekend for the men. Since you missed out on a game of tennis this morning, I’ll play a set with you then.’ He gave her a cheerful grin. ‘Can’t have you bringing a tennis racquet for nothing.’
He tossed these last words at her as he started strolling back to the barbecue area, leaving Daisy openmouthed, struggling for a protest or an excuse to escape playing with him—being alone with him. She had the sinking feeling he would accept neither, anyway.
He wasn’t going to let her off.
She would have to play the set of tennis.
Maybe she could surprise him by beating him. He didn’t know she was an A-grade player. If his male ego got hurt, that might make him a lot less attractive. And he might not want to play with her any more. In any sense.
It was the only hope she could hold onto for staying on here without this constant feeling of vulnerability where he was concerned. She had to beat him this afternoon. Had to.
CHAPTER SEVEN
EVERYONE had helped clean up after the party before leaving. There was nothing for Daisy to do except play tennis with Ethan. At least both of them had changed back into their morning clothes so she didn’t have such an acute physical awareness to distract her. As they strolled down to the court, she tried to keep the conversation between them light and natural, commenting on the guests’ enjoyment of the day, pretending to be completely relaxed.
The tennis court was blue with a green surround and a high green wire fence to keep in wayward balls. ‘Were you pleased with the surface when you played this morning?’ she asked on their way down the flight of steps to it.
‘Yes. No bumps anywhere. No odd bounces. They’ve done a great job with it.’
‘I didn’t watch the game.’ She shot him an arch look. ‘Are you terribly good? Will you wipe me off the court?’
He laughed, shaking his head. ‘You’re quite safe. I’ll play to whatever your standard is, Daisy.’
She didn’t feel safe, not from the attraction that was so difficult to squash. However, his promise to accommodate her tennis standard did give her the chance to beat him. Hopefully that would be a hit to the ego that had just assumed he was the better player and he’d be so put out he wouldn’t want to play other games with her.
‘I think you should serve first so I can judge for myself,’ she said, anticipating that he would go easy on her to begin with.
‘As you like.’
He put down a medium-paced serve which any reasonable player could return and Daisy suspected he deliberately over-hit the ball to let her win the first rally. On the second point she cunningly sidelined him, laughingly declaring it was a lucky shot. The third point was more seriously contested and she was relieved when he netted the ball, giving her three game points. She managed to win one of them with a drop shot he wasn’t expecting, which gave her the first game.