grinned. “My pleasure.”
“Good night.”
“Good night,” he said equally politely. But then as she started to close the door, he stopped her. “Ally.”
She narrowed her gaze. “What? I told you I’m not inviting you in, PJ. I’ve got work to do, Jon to call, things to think about. What do you want?”
“Just—” he hesitated, but only for a split second “—this.”
And he took one step forward, swept his arms around her, hauled her close and set his lips on hers.
It wasn’t planned. PJ didn’t plan.
He was an “act now, revise later” sort of guy. He believed in a spur-of-the-moment, caution-be-damned, full-speed-ahead approach to life. Always had. Probably always would.
It had got him into some scrapes. It had got him into a marriage. It had got him where he was today—kissing Ally.
Dear God, yes, he was kissing Ally.
The quick peck he’d managed when she’d come out of the subway had barely given him a taste. But it had whetted his appetite, made him remember the last time he’d kissed Ally.
For ten years he’d wanted more.
And now he had it. Had her lips under his, warm and soft. Resisting at first, pressed together, unyielding. He touched them with his tongue, teased them, and rejoiced when they parted to draw a breath.
It came as a gasp almost. “P—”
But he didn’t let her speak. Didn’t want to hear what she’d say. So he pressed his advantage, moved in, took more.
And the more he took, the more he wanted. The more the memories crowded in, the more the woman in his arms seemed to melt against him. His body hardened in response. His heart pounded.
He wanted—! He needed—!
And he knew she did, too. He could feel her softening against him, could feel her whole body now, pressed against his, molding itself to his. Oh, yes! He deepened the kiss.
And the instant that he did, she jerked out of his embrace, pulled back, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed, mouth a perfect O. He could see the pulse hammer at her throat. She gripped the door so tightly her knuckles were white.
“That,” she said icily, “was totally unnecessary.”
Slowly PJ shook his head. “Was it?” he said, his own heart hammering so hard he could barely talk. “I don’t think so.” He managed a lopsided grin. “Tell that to Jon when you talk to him.”
And he turned and walked away.
His body would much rather have been doing something else.
“The message you left on my machine was garbled,” Jon said. “It sounded like you said you were staying longer.”
Ally, who had grabbed her mobile phone when it rang, even though she was still asleep, barely made sense of what he was saying. She pushed herself up in bed and squinted at the clock—9:30 a.m.?
She never slept that late!
But then, as a rule, she didn’t lie awake half the night wondering if she’d lost her mind, either.
Last night clearly she had.
She’d shut the door on PJ, bolted it, then leaned against it, breathing as hard as if she’d run a marathon. A marathon would have made more sense!
She would have prepared herself, she would have trained for a marathon.
She hadn’t been prepared for PJ. Or for his refusal to sign the divorce papers. Or for his sister. Or for her agreement to go to his parents’ for the weekend.
Or most especially for his kiss.
Dear God, that kiss.
She’d just been congratulating herself on having made it back to her room, if not emotionally totally intact, at least unscathed.
And then he’d kissed her. And ten years of carefully paperedover need had come spilling out of her. Ten years of memories locked down and shut away had swamped her, and she had been powerless against the force of them.
Of course, she’d had only a split second’s warning.
She had seen something in his eyes at that last second when she’d started to close the door, something that looked hard and dangerous and tempting. But she’d discounted it. Had thought she was safe. Home free.
Wrong.
Very very wrong.
Every time she’d closed her eyes all night long, she’d been swept back to that kiss. The way his mouth had awakened her, the way the press of his body had made her feel. She’d felt branded, possessed. And unthinking, she’d responded with a hunger of her own. It was a feeling she’d only experienced once before in her life. That night …
Their wedding night.
She had relived it all—that night and this for hours. It was no wonder she hadn’t slept much. It was a wonder she’d slept at all.
“Did you say that or was I hearing things?” Jon said, jerking her back to something else she wasn’t prepared for.
She had called him last night as she’d promised. She’d waited until she thought she could put together a coherent sentence or two, had hoped Jon would be there to say sensible things, to remind her about her father, about her life in Honolulu, and the world beyond PJ’s kiss.
But she’d only got his answering machine, so she’d left a message. Now she said, “Um, yes. That’s what I said. You got it right.”
She sat up straighter in the bed, pushed herself back against the headboard and willed herself to sound brisk and in control—not to mention “awake”—though God knew she wasn’t at all. She hadn’t fallen asleep until dawn. “I’m staying over the weekend,” she said.
“What about the hospital benefit on Saturday? You didn’t forget.”
She had actually. But she also remembered something else. “You said you couldn’t go to the benefit,” she reminded him. “When I was planning the trip I asked you about it, and you said it wasn’t a problem, that you couldn’t go, you were too busy.”
“I am busy. But I need to go. Fogarty says I’m expected to show my face.”
Fogarty was the head honcho in Jon’s practice, the senior doctor whose lead everyone else followed. “Then I guess you’ll have to show your face. But you’ll have to do it alone because I can’t be there.”
“Ally, what’s going on?”
“Something’s come up. Something important.”
“What could possibly
