at first, but the instant their lips met, he increased the pressure. He put his hands on her hips and turned her body toward him. Deepening the kiss, he pulled her into him, pressing her into his rock-hard chest and rock-hard…
She broke the contact, but he kept a firm grip on her hips, then nuzzled his mouth at her ear.
“You said ‘kiss.’” His breath skimmed the hairs on the back of her neck.
She shivered. “I said miss.” She gently pushed at the impressive shoulders to look at him. “I meant…maybe someone will miss you and call the front desk—”
He shook his head. “I’m here all alone.”
“What about…back home? Your…wife?” She had to be sure this was safe and legal. Because it felt anything but.
He shook his head again, his lips curling in a wistful smile. “No wife.”
It was too good to be true.
He was too good to be true.
“What about you?” he asked, his thumbs circling each of her hip bones in a maddening, mesmerizing rhythm.
Obviously, he was asking if she were attached, married or otherwise unable to continue what they’d just started. With the exception of two feeble attempts in her early twenties, she basically defined unattached. Should she let him know that? Or just back away?
This was her chance for common sense to outweigh what he was doing to the other five. This was her chance to prove that humans really do reason, when animals only act on instinct. This was her chance to end this insanity. Should she take it?
Not a chance.
“No one is missing me,” she told him truthfully.
“Then please let me kiss you again.” That silken voice caressed her with the same power of his hands. “That elevator door might open any minute and I hate missed opportunities.”
Her gaze dropped from his eyes, over his classic Roman nose, his handsome, hollow cheeks, pausing at the lips that she’d just tasted.
She wasn’t going to miss this one. She stood on her toes to meet him and this time, his tongue darted directly into her mouth. And out again. And in. And out.
His not-so-subtle message turned her legs to water. In fact, her entire lower body had liquefied and she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep from melting onto the ground.
She refused to think about what she was doing. Kissing a stranger named Mac, locked on the empty third floor of her resort, when she should be downstairs facing the biggest professional and personal dilemma in her twenty-eight years on earth.
This was sheer madness.
This was sheer delight.
He eased her against the elevator door and she could feel the seam of the two wooden panels against her back. In one smooth movement, his hands traveled up her rib cage and rested on the outside of her breasts. Waiting for permission. The woman in her knew exactly how to give the signal. All she had to do was breathe deeply, press her chest closer and he’d accept the invitation to touch her. He wanted her—there was no doubt about his response, against her stomach. And his heart thumped in the same staccato as hers, against her chest.
She was long past dizzy now and on her way to full-fledged swooning. She couldn’t possibly open her eyes. She couldn’t possibly stop this feeling of falling. Falling into Mac.
She felt a vibration, heard a groan.
As the elevator doors clunked, he swooped her away, saving them both from tumbling into the car as it jerked open.
“Damn.” He nipped her lower lip with his teeth as he tightened his embrace. “We’ve been rescued.”
Nicole alternately blessed and cursed the ancient Otis. Why did it never work when she wanted it to, and now…
She forced herself to slide out of his arms and step into the elevator. With a steadying breath, she reached down for her jacket and briefcase. “Going down?” She tried to sound casual, but his eyes twinkled in response.
She hit Two and the doors rumbled closed. The car lurched. Kind of like her heart did every time she looked at him.
“I have a better idea.” He leaned very close to her ear, his husky voice vibrating as much as the machinery around them. “Why don’t we bring this sucker to a crashing halt somewhere between the second floor and…heaven?”
She actually considered it. Then blinked the thought away. “I’m—I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “My brain isn’t working any better than the elevator.”
He stepped back and gave her a reassuring smile. Then he took her chin in his fingertips and lifted her face to his.
“Mine stopped functioning with my first glimpse of the lady in blue.”
The elevator thudded to a halt on the second floor. If she didn’t stop, she was going to do something she might really regret. Never forget, but really regret.
“This is your floor,” she said as the doors rumbled open.
“Not exactly.” He traced her chin with his thumb. “I haven’t checked in yet.”
He hadn’t—? She stiffened and took a step back, closer to the button panel. “Too much of a dump for you?”
“Well, you gotta admit, it’s third-rate at best.” He winked at her as he hit Close Door. “The help is nice, though.”
Oh, God. The help is stupid. She stabbed Open Door and glared at him. “Here’s your stop, Mac.” She put her hand on his back, smiled, and gave him a push toward the open door. He stepped into the hall, a look of humor and surprise…and expectation on his face. Did he think she was coming with him? After he lied and called her resort a dump?
She pressed the Close Door button and for once, her elevator cooperated, leaving the most incredible man she’d ever met and kissed—both in the space of five minutes—looking stunned as the doors closed between them.
Nicole rushed into the empty lobby and headed for the front desk, which stood unattended because she couldn’t afford a night crew. She yanked open a drawer and rummaged for something she hadn’t needed in a long, long time.
With a flourish, she slammed the No Vacancy sign on the desk. On her way to her villa, she sent the elevator up to two, but ran like the wind before it could return.
The last of the glittering moonbeams had faded from the silver waves of the Gulf. In their place, the first few rays of sunlight warmed the lazy surf that lapped in a nonstop rhythm just about fifty feet from Nicole’s patio. She’d passed the entire night curled into one of her rattan chairs, staring at the water and second-guessing her overdramatic exit.
It certainly wasn’t the first sleepless night she’d spent counting stars and pondering her life. Before the hurricane, she’d often sit outside and think about her parents. About the dark days when she’d arrived in St. Joseph’s Island, eight years old and scared as a lost kitten. When all she had in the whole world were some memories of
