Risky Engagement. Merline Lovelace

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Risky Engagement - Merline  Lovelace

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courted her more for what she could do for him in the business arena than in the bedroom.

      Maybe … Maybe this was just what she needed. An hour or two or three of hot, sweaty, completely mindless sex. What better way to get over the humiliation of Kevin’s lies? How better to revalidate herself as a woman?

      Ha! Who was she kidding? Inviting Blackstone back to her hotel had nothing whatsoever to do with validation, and a whole lot to do with his impact on her pulmonary system. The mere thought of peeling off his T-shirt and popping the snap on those wrinkled khaki’s constricted her lungs and put a lump the size of Rhode Island in her throat.

      Unfortunately, the biologist in her didn’t have to delve very deep to compile a comprehensive list of diseases she could pick up by exchanging bodily fluids with a total stranger. Even one as hot as Rafe Blackstone. Especially one as hot as Blackstone. With a stab of real regret, she groped for the tote bag hooked over the back of her chair.

      “Thanks, but I’ll pass on dinner, too. Let me pay for the drinks.”

      “I’ll get them.”

      “Really, I want to. I’ve enjoyed our—”

      “I’ve got it covered.”

      Oooh-kay. She dropped her wallet back into her tote. That was twice today she’d stepped on it: first with the guys who’d fixed the fuel line on her rental, now with Blackstone. Guess she shouldn’t have let his bristles and rumpled shirt mislead her into thinking he would appreciate a woman who preferred to pay her own way.

      “I’ll walk you to your car.”

      She started to decline the offer. The vendors milling outside the bar, waiting to pounce, changed her mind. With the sun gone down and the crowds of tourists thinning out, they would swarm all over her. Why not let this lean, tough-looking gringo deal with them?

      Which he did, with a few well-chosen words. He also took her arm to weave a path for her through the grumbling souvenir hawkers. His hold was loose but oddly possessive. To Nina’s consternation, the feel of his callused palm raised goose bumps over every exposed inch of skin.

      She covered her involuntary reaction with a nod toward the rapidly darkening sky. “Cools off fast when the sun goes down, doesn’t it?”

      “It does,” he replied, and promptly tucked her closer into his side.

      His scent enveloped her. The seductive blend of sun-warmed skin and healthy male sweat retriggered the erotic sensations Nina was so determined to repress. Gulping, she tried to focus on the dramatic red-and-gold streaks in the dark sky, the raucous beat of music coming from the restaurants, anything but the man beside her.

      She failed miserably and breathed a distinct sigh of relief when they reached the parking garage. Easing free of his hold, she punched the button for the fourth floor.

      “Thanks again for the drinks.”

      “I’ll ride up with you.”

      She turned to him with a polite but firm no on her lips. He spiked it with a shrug and casual remark.

      “This part of town is usually pretty safe, but a couple of tourists were mugged in this garage a few days ago.”

      Common sense prevailed. Parking garages in any part of the world could be risky. No sense tempting fate.

      Which was exactly what she was doing by prolonging her brief association with Blackstone. She wasn’t fooling anyone, herself included. The tingling awareness of his proximity, the delicious feeling of temptation rode all the way up to the fourth floor with her.

      They stepped out into cavernous gloom. Their footsteps echoed as Nina led the way up the ramp, glad now that she’d accepted Blackstone’s escort. The garage had emptied considerably since her arrival. Probably because most of the businesses in town that didn’t cater exclusively to the tourist trade had closed for the day. Her rental now sat by itself at the end of the row.

      Digging the keys out of her tote, she clicked the remote. The lights flashed, the locks popped, and she turned to her escort once more. He was close. A little too close. She put on a cool smile.

      “Thanks again. I enjoyed—”

      “Let me have the keys.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “Give me the keys. I’ll drive you back to your hotel.”

      Okay, enough is enough. Lifting her chin, Nina shook her head.

      “Look, I don’t know what signals you think I sent there at the bar, but you read them wrong.”

      “Give me the keys.”

      When he took a step closer, crowding her against the car, fright exploded in her chest. How stupid was this? How stupid was she?

      She threw a wild glance down the ramp. Nothing moved. Not a single person walked to or from a car. No headlights stabbed through the gloom. She was on her own here.

      Her throat clogged with fear, she tried to recall any of the moves from the self-defense courses she’d taken over the years. All she could remember, all she could think of was to yell her head off and gouge her attacker’s eyes with her car keys.

      She fumbled the pointed ends between her fingers, balled her fist, and screamed for help. Or tried to. She didn’t emit much more than a squeak before Blackwater clapped a hard hand over her mouth. His other hand batted away the arm she’d brought up in a vicious arc.

      She fought him, using every bit of her strength, but he was too big, too strong. Reaching behind her, he ripped open the car door and shoved her inside.

      Her heart hammering in terror, Nina landed in a sprawl across the driver’s seat. Pure instinct brought her knee up and her foot lashing out. Blackstone dodged the kick aimed at his groin, and took it on the outside of his thigh instead.

      “Calm down!” he got out with a grunt of pain. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

      Right. Uh-huh. Sure.

      She wasn’t about to take his word for it. With his unyielding presence blocking the exit, she scrambled over the center console and made a desperate lunge for the passenger door. Cursing, he dropped into the driver’s seat and wrapped fingers of steel around her upper arm. A swift yank jerked her back down.

      “Listen to me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

      “Then let me go!”

      “Not yet. And not here.” He kept her in place with an iron fist. “We need to talk, Dr. Grant.”

      Dr. Grant?

      The title penetrated her wild fear. She hadn’t used the honorific in conversation. She was sure she hadn’t. She rarely did, and then only in professional circles. So how did he know?

      “Who are you?” she panted. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

      “I’ll tell you at the Mayan Princess.”

      Oh,

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