Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Zara
T he shop is airy and modern yet still has a traditional feel, with plastered walls and smooth tiles underfoot. I’d passed it the other day in the village but hadn’t bothered going in, as I was sure I wouldn’t be able to afford anything.
I glance at Myles. A smile plays at the corners of his gorgeous mouth. “You’ll need a swimsuit today. And it seemed to me you might like a new one.”
My mouth drops open. “You don’t have to buy me a swimsuit!”
“Company expense. This is a business trip, after all. I like to look after my employees.” But there’s heat in his gaze as he says the words.
“But—”
“No buts. You need a swimsuit, a cover-up and a bag to put everything in. Plus some trainers. Those sandals are very pretty, but they’re not going to work where we’re going.”
Oh God. I watch his broad back as he turns away and starts taking things off the racks. Myles is famously fit; please don’t let him be taking me on some sort of nature hike or something.
A few minutes later I have an armful of clothing and accessories, most of it chosen by Myles, though there are a few things I picked as well. I head into the fitting room and hang everything up.
“You don’t have to come out and show me anything.” Myles’s voice comes through the wooden door. He’s settled himself on a plump sofa upholstered in soft cotton, lounging against the cushions. “Just choose whatever you want. Whichever swimsuit you choose, keep it on. Just hand me the tags.”
I survey the collection of swimsuits. Oh my God.
I’m not going out of this changing room, or anywhere in public, wearing these.
Myles’s bikini choices are… skimpier than anything I would usually wear.
One of them is even crocheted. I’m curious, considering how fierce the ocean is, where we could be going that I would need a bathing suit but it would be fine for me to wear one as flimsy as these.
I put them all to one side, trying on a two-piece that I picked up.
A tank top with built-in bra, and a matching pair of low-slung bikini bottoms. It still feels slightly indecent, the bottoms sitting low on my hips, my breasts swelling from the low-cut top.
But it’s the best of all the options, plus is deep red, like a cherry.
There’s even a pair of cherries embroidered on the bottoms, with a little green leaf, close to my hip.
I try on a couple of the cover-ups, settling on a loose cotton one in the same colour as the swimsuit, with a drawstring that pulls in under my breasts.
It’s wonderfully cool and airy, but covers me up enough.
There’s a straw hat with a floppy brim, and a matching woven bag with red tassels.
I put the cover-up and hat in the bag, then pull on my red dress and sit on the little stool, trying on a pair of cotton canvas trainers in pale blue.
They fit perfectly, and seem comfortable. Again I wonder where he’s taking me.
And why I’m so excited to go with him.
I take in a breath and blow it out, trying to calm my pounding heart. After a moment I feel a bit calmer. I gather up the rest of the clothing and push the changing room door open.
Myles’s eyes widen. “That was quick.”
“I knew what I wanted.”
He smiles. “Good. Come on, let’s pay and get out of here. You have the tags?”
I give him the tags, and we take everything to the till.
Myles insists on paying and I protest again when I hear the total.
Myles just reaches out, not looking at me, and places his hand on my forearm.
It shocks me to silence, every part of me focused on the warmth of his hand, the slight calluses I can feel on his palm.
A short while later we’re back in the car, heading towards Agadir.
But instead of continuing along the coast Myles takes a road heading inland, past shops and brightly painted houses, then more of the sand-covered hills, dotted with scrubby green bushes.
Eventually he pulls off into a car park at the side of the road.
“Come on.” He gets out, and for a panicked moment I think he might come around and open my door. I quickly exit the vehicle. After our dinner last night, something has changed between us. Myles feels like a friend, like an equal, rather than my boss. An incredibly hot friend.
I pull my mind away from that thought, shouldering my bag and following him towards a dirt path leading away from the road. He waits for me to catch up with him. He’s carrying a small backpack, and hands me an Ocean’s Curl metal water bottle.
“Here.” He smiles at me. “It’s about a half-hour walk, but definitely worth it. You okay with that?”
I smile back. “Yes.”
* * *
A half hour or so later, after wandering along a river, past huts housing small restaurants, the hills rising like crumpled canvas around us, Myles stops. I gasp.
“Welcome to Paradise Valley,” he says. “What do you think?”
“Wow.” Opal green pools nestle like jewels among layered cliffs coloured rust and ochre. Waterfalls tumble like shimmering curtains, people swimming and perching on the rocks, or jumping from the cliffs above.
It’s utterly beautiful. Myles heads down to a spot closer to the water, a flat rock warmed by the sun. I follow him, still awestruck. It’s like being in a fairy tale.
“We’re swimming here?”
Myles, already putting on a rash guard, grins. “We are. Much less chance of losing you.”
I blush, not knowing where to look. I shimmy out of my dress, leaving it crumpled on the rock. There’s a towel in my bag and I spread it out, next to Myles’s.
He’s standing on the edge of the rock, looking at me, and there’s a strange sort of simmering tension around him. He holds out his hand.
“Shall we?” He sounds kind of breathless.
And, as I take his hand and we leap into shimmering green, I get it. I feel the same way.
Myles
I’d been wondering which of the swimsuits she’d choose.
Hoped it might be one of the ones I picked out for her.
I confess I chose the sexiest ones deliberately, wanting to see more of her.
But when she lets her dress drop, and I see the swimsuit she’s wearing, I realise she made the correct choice after all.
I’m mesmerised by the slice of creamy flesh visible between the low-slung bikini bottoms and the tank top, by her long slender legs, her tiny waist. The embroidered cherries on her hip.
I almost groan when I see those. And the way the top cups her breasts, as though offering them to me.
Fuck. I want to slide the straps down and put my mouth on her just to hear her gasp.
I swim away from her once she surfaces, simply because I’m still her boss, and she doesn’t need to see how hard I am for her. But she comes after me, her hair smooth to her head like some sort of naiad, rising from the water to tempt me. She’s doing a marvellous job.
She turns onto her back, floating, her arms out, and I see her smile at the sky.
There’s an answering smile in my own heart to see her happy again.
Whatever happened to her, just before she came here, had left shadows.
Now, as she drifts in pale green water, they seem to have dissipated.
I was right to bring her here, whatever happens. All that matters is that she’s happy.
Could she be happy with me? I wonder, as I swim up to her again, catching her hand to pull her, gently, through the water. Her hair streams behind her and she laughs, letting me take her where I like.
That feeling in my chest is swelling, something in me calling to her.
I need to be careful, so very careful. But the reality of being here with her, touching her, makes dry things like paperwork and sensible procedures seem a million miles away.
I want her, and I don’t know if I can hold back for much longer.
But I also don’t know whether she wants me.