Coastal Ranger Julian Keswick is on conservation duty when he finds a woman shacked up in his favorite cove. He’s fuming, and confronts her, but his natural instinct to protect comes to the forefront during an incoming sto rm.
As the wild summer storm brings these two opposites together, the natural elements take charge of their mutual destinies. But Molly has to return to her business world in London, and her wild holiday romance with a ranger is soon to become a memory. Opposites attract, but for two people so very different, is destiny one week, or forever?
EXCERPT:
Molly hadn’t seen another soul on the beach during the whole time she’d
been there. The cottage had been advertised as having a private beach, and –so
far—that’s exactly what it had been. Who the hell was he?
Annoyed, she reached for her T-shirt and held it against her boobs,
still lying close against the ground. The clumps of beach grass lining the top
of the dunes gave her cover, but she wanted her T-shirt to hand in case she
needed it.
It really was a man, and he seemed to be alone.
A very attractive man.
He was tall and well built, with closely shorn hair, left longer on top.
He wore loud shorts and a threadbare, faded T-shirt. He had the look of a
beachcomber, but this was England
Perhaps she’d been away from people too long. A few trips to the local
village for supplies obviously wasn’t enough to keep her in touch with the real
world.
Torn between the urge to march over there and ask what
the bloody hell he was doing on her beach, and the equally compelling urge to
continue secretly observing him, she tried to figure out what to do.
Glued to the spot, the desire to continue observing
took the lead.
As the moments passed she noticed again how supremely
well built and attractive he was. She smiled to herself, watching as he kicked off his sports shoes and
walked barefoot toward the edge of the shore.
As she watched, he walked into the water and dipped a long plastic tube
into the surf. He lifted it and looked at it in the light, then sealed it with
a plastic cap. She wondered what he was doing. He walked back to where he’d
left his shoes and deposited the tube.
She could hardly drag her attention away, but it was
her beach, it said so in the advert. Private, secluded beach, the perfect
getaway. So what was he doing here? Who did he think he was? She had to remind
herself she was from a city and things were different here. Along the wild
coast in Northumberland roaming beachcomber types might be the norm. She was
enjoying the privacy of the place though, and felt provoked to defend it.
Then he began to strip off.
Molly’s eyebrows lifted, astonished as she was by his
actions.
He pulled his T-shirt over his head, giving her a look at his perfectly
shaped torso as he did so.
“Wow,” she whispered approvingly.
If she was looking for inspiration, she’d surely found it today. He was
a handsome specimen all right, gorgeous looking, and with a very impressive
physique. The guy worked out, that much was obvious. He had amazing, powerful
shoulders and a six-pack to match. He stood on the edge of the surf as if he
owned it—it was as if Neptune himself had just walked out of the waves.
Molly’s eyebrows shot up when she realized he wasn’t stopping at the T-shirt.
He was busy undoing the tie at his waistband and was about to drop his
shorts.
She glanced around, half expecting to see somebody else running over to
accompany him. B ut, no, he appeared
to be alone. And she was trapped there, clutching her T-shirt to her chest as
she observed him, unseen…
And in
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