had been navy, like a lawyer’s purse should be. But the leather had been the softest, finest imaginable. I’d paid a lot for it. One of those feminine indulgences like my silk lingerie that reminds me I’m a woman.
It can be replaced. Like the house. Like my passport and credit cards. My clothes, jewelry, everything I’d brought with me that I loved. The important thing is, Nana and I will be okay.
I can’t tear my eyes away from my purse. If the man who held it in his big, long-fingered hands hadn’t come along when he did, Nana and I would be in much the same shape as it was.
For the first time, it really sinks in that we could have died.
The trembling begins in my hands, moves up my arms, then my whole body’s shaking and my eyes are filling and overflowing.
“Hey, now.” He sounds alarmed, but the next thing I know, he’s reached out and gathered me in.
My shaking arms wrap around him and cling. Tears pour down my cheeks.
“It’s okay,” he says. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
He’s right. We could have died, and the fact that we didn’t makes everything else—the losses, the inconvenience and hassles—trivial. Unable to speak, I nod, the movement brushing my nose against his soft T-shirt. Making me aware of the warm, hard muscles underneath.
“I d-don’t do this,” I manage to gulp out between sobs. “I’m n-not the emotional type.”
“Can see that,” he says dryly. Then, “It’s shock. Everyone reacts differently.”
The tears are easing. Emotion spent, relaxing against him, I become aware of the way my senses drink him in. A tangy soapy scent that tells me he showered recently, those fantastic muscles against my cheek. Cautiously my hands move on his back, exploring, finding another set of impressive muscles.
His body stiffens for a moment, then relaxes and now his hands begin to roam. Down my back. One slips inside the opening of the gown and touches—no, caresses—my bare skin just above my waist.
I suck in a breath. Let myself move a little deeper into his arms.
Bring my belly up against the front of his jeans and press, feel him respond.
So’s my pussy, not to mention my tits and pretty much every other square centimeter of skin. God knows how I moved so quickly from tears to super-arousal. Maybe it’s that life-and-death thing.
But he’s feeling it too. His cock’s rigid against me and under my cheek his chest is heaving. He lets out a soft groan.
I turn him on?
This really is an upside-down land, where a man like this reacts to a girl like me as if he’s been on a desert island for the last ten years, and I’m the first woman he sees when he gets off.
Not that I’m complaining. My ego is loving it.
“You don’t mean this,” he mutters. “It’s not me, it’s just reaction. From the fire.”
“And what are you reacting to? The fire as well?” I raise my head so I can see his face. He’s a firefighter, so maybe fire’s a turn-on.
His dark cheeks are flushed, his eyes blazing. “God no. You. Just you. But I shouldn’t. You’re vulnerable.”
Vulnerable? The fire, my tears, of course he’d think that. But he’s also the hottest man I’ve ever seen, and the only one who’s looked at me this way. Yes, I could have died last night. And that means, if there was ever a time for carpe diem, this is it. I’m going to seize the day.
And the man.
“Not vulnerable,” I tell him. “Horny. For you.”
He gives another groan, then as if he can’t help himself reaches down, cups my bottom in both hands through the gown and pulls me up even harder against his erection. I wriggle against it, wishing we were both naked.
Want you. My whole body is saying it, and his is answering back.
“You’re not going to turn me down,” I tell him.
He gives a choked laugh. “Nope. Be a fool to do that.” He starts to bend down for a kiss, then suddenly straightens. “Crap, we can’t do this here.”
Oh God, we’re still in the hospital. I’d lost all sense of my surroundings but now I hear voices on the other side of the screen. Did they hear us too? Hear me proclaim my horniness?
I flush. “No, not here.”
We both loosen our grip until we’re holding each other lightly, bodies barely touching. Staring into each other’s eyes. This is a dream, it must be, for him to look at me with this hunger.
“But we’re definitely gonna do it,” he says, and it’s not a question.
“Oh, yeah, we’re gonna do it.” A shiver of pure lust ripples through me.
“Then let’s get out of here.”
“Yes!” Then reality sets in. “Oh no, there’s paperwork to sign, and I need to check on Nana, leave a phone number.” I bury my face in my hands. “God, I don’t have a phone. Or clothes, or any money.”
He grabs one of my hands and tugs it away from my face. “No worries. Let’s go do it.”
“Do…it?”
A wicked grin, a slanting wink. “I like the way your mind works, Tash McKendrick, but I meant the paperwork.”
With a start, I realize something. “I don’t even know your name.”
“I’m Mick Donovan.” He grins widely, squeezes my hand. “G’day, Tash, and welcome to Oz. How’dya like it so far?”
His smile is infectious so I give him one back. “It’s been an adventure.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
His words prove truer than I’d anticipated. I hadn’t figured that, half an hour later, I’d be roaring down the wrong side of the road on the back of a silver Ducati motorbike, my arms wrapped tightly around Mick’s lean waist.
Wearing pajamas, a bathrobe, hospital slippers and a motorcycle helmet.
This is definitely not my Vancouver lawyer image.
On the other hand, I’m in the land Down Under, where not a soul knows me. The thought is amazingly liberating. So’s the rush of wind. And the knowledge that Mick Donovan wants me.
It’s like I came out of that fire a new woman. A sexy, attractive one.
A gutsy, probably insane, one.
The old Tash would never take off with a man she didn’t know. Wear PJs in public. She’d never prioritize sex ahead of arranging for replacement credit cards.
The
