Chapter 5

Chapter Five

J udd had never been a party guy.

Give him the plains of Africa or the jungles of South America any day. Sahara winds, Amazonian deluges, Asian typhoons…he loved the elements and the freedom, always had.

He never felt whole unless he had a camera in his hand, capturing the animals that had held him enthralled since he'd opened his first textbook at school and seen a huge, scary gorilla with bared teeth staring back at him from the page.

It had been his dream to photograph animals from that day on. A dream that had evolved, developed, morphed, and landed him here, smack bang in babe heaven.

Taking a seat at a table near the bar, he watched some of the models shimmying on the dancefloor and knew that partying definitely had something going for it. This exclusive resort was a walking advertisement for the hottest women on the planet and he wouldn't be male if he didn't notice and appreciate the luscious scenery.

On cue, Abby walked into the room.

In a flash his memory transported back to the night of the high school dance and the precise moment he'd laid eyes on her in her first formal dress—blue satin with the tiniest of straps and outlandish puffy skirt—tottering down her porch steps towards him in ridiculous heels. With the dress outlining her body, glossy brown hair piled high with a few curling tendrils framing her face, and her blue eyes glinting with a hint of mystery in their depths, she'd taken his breath away, the vision imprinted on his brain forever.

Friends weren't meant to look like that.

What had he done? Fired the usual barbs all night, teasing her mercilessly while she stared at him with her beautiful eyes, sucking him in deeper and deeper as the hours passed, until he couldn't think straight.

By the end of the evening he did the only thing any hormonal, eighteen-year-old guy would have done.

He kissed her.

He'd expected her to slap him silly. Instead, she'd responded like a tigress, fuelling his passion until his hormones warred with his common sense in a raging battle. Fortunately, common sense won and he played down the incident, laughing it off as an experiment between two friends trying to prove they'd just entered the world of grown-ups.

Now, staring at Abby in a fitted black halter dress outlining her curvy body to perfection, with her hair piled in a similar arrangement to that fateful night, he wondered if he'd been so fortunate after all.

He stood and waved her over, drawing a chair out as she neared the table, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Not bad," he murmured in her ear as she sat down, her light floral fragrance beckoning him closer and he pulled back with effort, resisting an irrational urge to place a kiss behind her ear.

She'd always loved jasmine and the scent had haunted him over the years, a poignant reminder of her.

"Is that a compliment, Calloway?"

She'd used a minimum of makeup, just enough to highlight her eyes which glowed luminous in the reflected light from the lit torches around the perimeter of the room, as he wondered if they'd always been that blue, that incandescent.

"Call me Judd," he said, unable to quell the urge to flirt, hoping she'd join in.

She batted her eyelashes. "In that case you can call me Abby."

Judd smiled and reached out to run his hand down her arm in a part-friendly, part-daring gesture, enjoying the flare of awareness in her eyes.

Maybe the balmy breeze, the illusion of being secluded on a tropical island and far enough away from reality, and the newfound heat sizzling between them made him want to push the boundaries of their friendship and see what happened.

"Abby is a beautiful name. Conjures up all sorts of images like ancient stone churches surrounded by overgrown cottage gardens with oak trees reaching up to the endless blue sky the same colour as your eyes…"

Abby snorted. "I'm not one of your bimbos. You don't have to lay it on that thick."

Judd laughed and shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for trying. So, what does the name Judd conjure up for you?"

He wondered if she'd take the bait and remember what she'd once told him all those years ago.

By the glint in her eyes she wouldn't disappoint. "That's easy, Judd Kane Calloway. A long, thin reed used to put cheeky boys like you back in their place."

She reached over and tweaked his nose like she used to, resurrecting instant memories of their childhood years and reminding him of how long they'd been friends.

"Now, what does a girl have to do to get a drink in this place?"

"Let me guess, the usual?"

Her blue eyes sparkled with characteristic cheek while her lips curved in a coy smile he'd never seen before. "I'm feeling reckless tonight. Surprise me."

As if noticing how stunning she looked wasn't torture enough she had to throw him a curve ball. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was definitely flirting with him again.

But that couldn't be right. Abby teased him, riled him, and jibed at him, but flirt? No way. This tropical air must be getting to him.

He called a waiter over and placed their orders, including a cocktail guaranteed to regain the upper hand, and leaned back in his chair.

"Nice outfit, by the way. Glad to know you take my advice so seriously."

His greedy gaze skimmed the black silk clinging to her curves, ending an inch above her knees, accentuating her tiny waist, outlining her breasts…

He sat up and sent a frantic glance in the waiter's direction, wishing their drinks would arrive ASAP.

He needed cooling down, badly.

"You think I wore this for you?" If her smile had been coy before it turned positively smug now. "Still delusional from all that African heat, huh?"

He couldn't back down from the challenge in her eyes even though continuing this conversation would only make it harder for him to view her as just a friends.

He'd never backed down from one of her challenges and he'd be damned if he would now. Besides, he liked a hint of danger. Kept things interesting.

Reaching out to smooth an imaginary crease from the silk draped like liquid lava across her lower thigh, he said, "I did say wear something sexy and boy, does this dress deliver."

"Clothes make the woman?"

She had him there. If he agreed she'd know he thought she was sexy. If he disagreed he looked like a heel.

Thankfully, the waiter arrived as he wracked his brain for a quick response. He deposited an icy beer in front of him and a wicked concoction of Cointreau, Galliano, pineapple juice, and cream in a champagne glass for Abby.

"What's this?" She took a sip, her eyes widening imperceptibly as a faint pink stained her cheeks. "On second thoughts, don't answer that. It's got a kick like a mule and perhaps it's better I don't know. What my liver doesn't know won't hurt it."

Struggling to keep a triumphant smile off his face, he said, "A Hot Dream."

To his immense satisfaction, the pink in her cheeks deepened to crimson.

"Mmm…nice," she murmured, her gaze firmly focused on the cherry stuck on the end of paper umbrella wedged precariously on the edge of her glass.

Her non-committal answer only spurred him on and he chugged on his beer before taking his teasing one step further.

"So, you like hot dreams, huh?"

Her gaze flew to his and for a split second he could've sworn he glimpsed a flicker of desire before she masked it with her telltale sass.

"The drink's great." Raising her glass in his direction, she said, "As for the rest, you'll never know."

"Is that right?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded, swirling the cocktail in slow, rhythmic circles as she stared into the drink as if hypnotised. "Where's Tom, by the way?"

Startled by her swift change of topic, and more disgruntled at her mention of the big guy than he'd like to be, he said, "Probably terrorising some poor single woman somewhere. Why?"

She sipped her cocktail and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. "I was hoping to run into him tonight. I need a big, strong man to help me move some stuff for tomorrow's shoot."

"And what am I? Chopped liver?"

Her blue eyes gleamed, mischief etched across her face. "Think you can handle it?"

She reached over and squeezed his bicep as if testing his strength. "Mmm…not bad."

And just like that, his libido shifted into overdrive. He tried not to react, wondering what had gotten into him. Abby was his best friend, had been forever, the one constant in his life when the rest of it had threatened to spiral out of control. She knew about his dad, the lack of money growing up, the way he'd had to fight for his education, accepting scholarships when he hated taking charity from anyone.

Yet here he was reacting to her simple touch that left him with a burning desire to push their friendship to the limit.

What the hell was he thinking?

Instilling the right amount of casualness into his voice, he said, "Lady, I can handle anything you care to dish out."

"Really?"

She let her hand drop though he was sure she'd let it linger longer than necessary. Or was that a figment of his overheated imagination? The way it had gone haywire since he'd set foot on this damn island and seen her again, he wouldn't be surprised if smoke started pouring out of his ears like some crazy cartoon character.

"Really." He folded his arms to stop from reaching out and doing something even more disastrous, like hauling her onto his lap.

Damn, this wasn't working out as he planned. He'd wanted to flirt a little, make her squirm, yet his body was way out of control.

Why the insane impulse to throw caution to the wind and get physical with the one woman he should leave alone?

"If you think you can handle anything, follow me." She stood and smoothed her skirt, the action drawing his attention to her long legs bare beneath the silky fabric of her dress. "And bring those biceps."

She winked as she cast a knowing glance over her shoulder and caught him staring at her legs.

Stifling a groan, he followed her, suspecting the mood they were both in she'd probably lead him directly into trouble.