“A poodle? Have you ever seen a poodle?” She finger-combed her hair, grinning at him. “I have the hair, maybe we can make a match.” The sunlight pooled around her, soft rays that barely filtered through the canopy but found her, were drawn to her in the same way he was drawn. She looked radiant, filled with joy.

He had been so filled with pain and shame and anger the night before. In a few hours of bliss, she had shaken his world, turned it so that he could only feel joy and laughter and a paradise of pleasure. “You’re tempting me, woman, and I’m going to throw you back in that bed.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “I doubt if I’m in any danger when you were just complaining about stamina. Wimpy male.”

He tackled her, driving her back onto the mattress, throwing his body over hers. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. He pressed his erection against her, rubbing back and forth to show her what stamina was all about. Rachael didn’t seem very impressed, laughing until he stopped her with his kisses.

The whoop, whoop of warning by the birds just outside on the railing of the verandah forced him to leave the temptation of her body. She lay on the bed, laughter fading into a smile as she looked at him. Something about her mysterious, feminine smile set his heart pounding.

Deliberately she began to pull his jeans slowly up her bare legs, wiggling to bring them over her hips and bare bottom. She left them open, exposing the triangle of tiny black curls. She stood there with her bare breasts thrusting toward him invitingly. “I can’t find my shirt.”

His mouth was dry. “You shameless hussy. You’re deliberately provoking me.” His fingers crushed the material of the shirt, his gaze drinking her in.

“Is it working?”

“Damn right it is. Put the shirt on before we shock poor Kim.”

Rachael looked alarmed. “Kim? The guide?” She held out her hand for the shirt.

He held the shirt to his chest. “Come and get it.”

Rachael went without hesitation, one arm sliding around his neck, pressing her breasts against his chest while her other hand slipped between his legs and began to caress and dance and cup him right through the material of his jeans. Her lips were at his throat, tongue swirling in a small, deliberate caress. Rio rocked against her hand, wanting her all over again with such an urgency it was as if he’d never once made love to her. Or as if his body remembered every magical moment and was obsessed.

Franz coughed a warning. Rio groaned and dragged the shirt around her, buttoning it quickly. It was the only safe thing to do. Barefoot, he pulled her with him onto the verandah to wait for their guest.