long are you staying?”
“Until tomorrow.”
His gaze bored into hers. “Then we don’t have much time.”
She stiffened. No. He can’t mean... She huffed out a laugh. “For what?”
His eyes gleamed. “You know what.”
She crossed her arms to hide the trembling, to stop from reaching up and grabbing his jaw to bring his lips to hers. “Do I?”
“We need to get out of here.”
Oh, my God. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
Carrie glanced toward Michaela and the others and bit back a bubble of nervous laughter. Her friends wore identical, jaw-dropped expressions of fascination. “I can’t just leave—”
“You don’t strike me as the type of woman who lives to other people’s schedules.” His gaze glided over her face in a steady, soft caress that made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. A way she’d never felt her entire life. He lifted his shoulders. “Or maybe I’m wrong.”
Carrie drew in a long breath as her habitual need to maintain control rose. He’s a player. Walk away. Go back to your friends. “You’re right, but I don’t know you.”
His gaze darkened and settled at her mouth. “Ditto.”
“Then I should stay here.”
He lifted his gaze to hers and said nothing.
Time stood still as her heart beat fast and her mind whirled. How could she not go? Every nerve in her body screamed for this man; every second that passed felt wasted. She waited for the rush of her returning sanity, but instead, relief swam through her. Relief he’d suggested they leave together first, that this madness was his idea, not hers. Could she do this? Just go with him and to hell with the consequences?
“Do you do this often?” She lifted an eyebrow, going for the breezy rather than the terrified. “Approach women in bars and ask them to leave with you?”
“Never. You’re the first.”
She looked into his eyes and nothing but sincerity shone back. God, she wanted to go with him. Desperately. “You could be an axe-murderer for all I know.”
She said the words, but no part of her was afraid of this man. Instead, she wanted to comfort him, to soothe the deep frustration emanating from him. The look in his eyes wasn’t full of male ego but intense inquiry, mixed with a hint of disbelief that she understood only too well in that moment.
He exhaled. “I could be, but I’m not. I’ll look after you, Carrie. I promise.” He raised his hand. “Scott’s honor.”
Her stomach knotted and laughter bubbled in her throat once more. “Well, in that case...” She smiled, still apprehensive. “I’ll grab my purse.”
For the first time since he’d left his barstool, he smiled. A smile so soft, she sensed his mutual relief. Sensed he was as unsure about what he was doing as she was. On shaking legs, Carrie approached her friends and glanced at each of them in turn, desperate for the words to explain she had to make love to this stranger or regret it for the rest of her life. She wanted him to take her and feel the weight of his body pressed down on hers. She wanted to smell him, touch him and hear him groan.
She focused on Michaela, her best friend and only hope of being understood.
Michaela frowned. “Carrie?”
Carrie smiled, even though nerves and doubt danced in her stomach. “I have to go with him.”
She moved to walk away, but Michaela gripped her wrist. “You don’t know this guy.”
Aware of Scott watching, Carrie pulled back her shoulders. “But I will.”
“Carrie—”
“I have to do this.” She eased her arm from her friend’s grip. “I’ll call you. If you don’t hear from me in a couple of hours, call the police.” She winked and pushed away the seriousness of the implication.
“That’s not funny.” Michaela glanced toward Scott before facing Carrie again. “If you want to go, I can’t stop you, but for God’s sake, call me later so I know you’re okay.”
Carrie smiled even as unease rippled through her. Michaela’s concern was justified. Wouldn’t she have been saying the same things to her friend if the roles were reversed? She squeezed Michaela’s hand. “I will. I promise.”
After a final worried look in Scott’s direction, Michaela smiled and raised her hands in surrender. “Fine. Then get out of here.”
Grinning, Carrie faced Scott. “Ready?”
He nodded. Her heart stuttered, but still Carrie slipped her hand into his and led him from the bar.
* * *
HER SKIN WAS like smoldering silk beneath his hands. Scott relished his exploration over her back and along the bumps of her spine and ribs as she lay facedown on the hotel bed. Her body delicately quivered and a soft mew whispered from her lips. He burned it all into his memory because there was every chance this would be their single time together. An event never to be repeated.
The tension in her shoulders when he smoothed his fingers across them and the way her toes remained curled against the mattress spoke of a woman doing something alien to her. The thought he’d never see her again sent panic ricocheting through him, but he had no right to expect more. He’d approached her. He was the one who’d been pulled from his barstool as though hypnotized.
He was no angel. He enjoyed the chase and the conquer. This was neither. He was hers for the taking. The feeling was unwanted...and scary as hell. For the first time in his life, it was important he found a way for a woman to entirely trust him...to understand he’d take care of her. That he wouldn’t walk away from her as he had others.
A crack of summer lightning lit the peach-and-cream hotel room and she stiffened beneath his fingers. He smiled. “Shh.”
Her body relaxed into the mattress. The drapes lifted as the wind gathered ferocity and washed into the room through the open window. When the sun had burned hot that afternoon, he wouldn’t have believed they’d need to seek shelter from this seemingly impenetrable storm. He swallowed. How could he have imagined any of this?
He didn’t pick women up in bars and sleep with them. He dated them, romanced them and ensured they had a good time whenever they were with him. He didn’t understand nor need the unspoken seriousness of his reaction to Carrie. She mattered. Something in her eyes spoke to his heart. It was as though he already knew her...and she possessed the power to change his life in the blink of an eye. He laughed, joked, played pool and hung with the boys. He didn’t fall in love.
He’d been struck; caught in her invisible snare.
Yet despite the emotional risks to his heart, he didn’t leave her bed. He didn’t gather his discarded clothes and escape the room in a bid to
