UP In Flames. Lori Foster

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a good front, and he tried. Jerry was always pleasant, mannerly, proper. That was one of the reasons she’d broken things off with him; he seemed more emotionless every day, like he had no depth, at least not where she was concerned.

      She’d come here to rest, to get control of her emotions after the painful breakup. Ha! Controlling her emotions around Adam had always been impossible.

      It was imperative she carry her own weight, that she prove to him her little display in the water was an aberration. She could and would fend for herself.

      She was still figuring ways to do that when his warm breath touched the back of her neck. She hadn’t even noticed him approaching!

      “One thing hasn’t changed, I see.”

      Melanie froze, not daring to move in case his mouth actually touched her skin—in which case she knew she’d likely faint. Her every nerve ending felt stretched tight with him so close. Even her fingertips tingled. “What?”

      “You’re still a shy little thing.”

      But she wasn’t shy. She was just...affected by him. She’d always been affected by him. He made her nervous and tongue-tied and loopy. From the first day she’d seen him, he’d look at her and her stomach would do flips. Forcing herself to turn, she had her mouth open with a scathing retort when she remembered his state of undress.

      Oh, my. Her lips wouldn’t move. As to that, neither would her eyes; they stayed glued on the bare, very male body he presented. Her imagination hadn’t done him justice.

      Adam chucked her chin. “Come on. We’ll walk along the shore a bit and see if we can find any signs of habitation.”

      He moved away from her, and she stared, heart racing, as he sauntered to his bag and picked it up. He left his discarded clothes lying amid the long, dry grass. As he went past her again, he whistled a jaunty tune.

      If she’d found a rock, she’d have thrown it at his head. Frustrated, annoyed and somewhat intrigued, Melanie hurried to catch up.

      As Adam had said, many things had changed. But one thing that hadn’t was his appeal. The man still had it in spades. And though she hated to admit it, she’d never been immune.

      CHAPTER THREE

      “If you’re so sure we’re alone, why drag along your bag?”

      Adam smiled slightly to himself. Though she did her best to be cavalier, her voice shook. Good. Let her fret awhile. Misery loved company, and his mind was so jumbled at the moment, it was filled with the worst kind of misery.

      He’d missed his meeting. Hiding his reaction from Mel wasn’t easy, but he had no intention of letting her know how important the deal had been for him. Not only that, but it had taken mere moments in her company for him to revert to form, to become the taunting bully she’d always claimed him to be. He hadn’t treated a woman with less than full respect and gentleness since he’d moved away from Brockton.

      Except for now. By word and attitude he’d proved Mel right, that he hadn’t really changed at all. And it made him madder than hell. “I have important stuff inside. Where I go, it goes.”

      His dark boxers were nearly dry now, but her long skirt was still dripping. He wished she’d lose it. One nice long look at her legs would make his outlook brighter. She was still so slender, so fragile. Seven years hadn’t changed that, but emotionally, she was more sturdy. He laughed. Hell, she was almost mean, as she’d accused him of being.

      “Why are you laughing?”

      He slanted her a look. “Private joke.” But while he was looking at her, he noticed how fair her skin was. “You got sunscreen on?”

      She looked at her body, then crossed her arms over the delicate skin of her midriff. “I did have. But that was before our little dip in the ocean.”

      “Damn. Much as I hate to do this...” He stopped and set his bag on the sand, then knelt before it. “I have a shirt you can put on. I don’t want to see you get burned.”

      “Playing hero again?”

      His jaw locked for a second as her words hit him. He was so far from heroic it was laughable. She knew it too, and probably used the term as more of an insult than a compliment. He surveyed her smug little expression, then shook his head. “No, I just don’t want to hear you whining later if your tender skin gets pink.”

      “I do not whine.”

      “The hell you don’t.”

      She started to stalk away and he called out, “Just where do you think you’re going, honey? If you get lost and a wild boar gets you, it’s no sweat off my nose.”

      She halted in her tracks, then slowly turned to him. “There are no wild boars on a Florida island.”

      Shoving clothes aside, he lifted out the much acclaimed guidebook and shook it at her. “Says different in here!” So far, he really had no idea what the damn manual said. He hadn’t had a chance to look it over completely.

      She stomped back to him, kicking up sand along the way. She had the attitude of a very tiny, very female bull. “Let me see that.”

      He held it behind his back. “I don’t think so. It’s mine. In fact, I’ve got a lot of useful stuff here in my bag. Let’s see—” He shoved the booklet under his backside so she couldn’t get to it then began rummaging in his bag. “There’s the shirt you could surely use to protect your delicate hide if only you’d stop being such a witch. Toothpaste and toothbrush. A few candy bars, gum, shampoo and soap. A razor.” He looked at her and grinned his most evil grin. “Clean Skivvies and even a pack of condoms.”

      His evil grin was nothing compared to her aristocratic look of disdain. “Well, unless you intend to sweet-talk the boars, I seriously doubt you’ll need the condoms.”

      “A smart man is always prepared.”

      “Then I’m so surprised you thought of it.”

      Her look was so snotty, he grinned, then actually laughed. “Damn, you’re still a world-class snob.”

      She gasped at him. “I was never a snob!”

      He held up one finger, interrupting her tirade. “But...you’re a snob with nothing more than the clothes on your back. If you want to borrow anything I have, you better start being nice.”

      “Go to hell!”

      He made an amused tsking sound. “Such language. Should I remind you, Mel, that there aren’t any stores on a deserted island? Your charge cards won’t do you much good.”

      “I don’t even have my purse with me. Not that it matters, because we’ll be rescued by dinnertime.”

      He shook his head in a pitying fashion. “You’re still so naive.”

      “I was never a snob and I was never naive. You were always too busy provoking me to know me at all.”

      The words had a grain of truth, at least in regard to their earlier relationship,

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