alternative accommodation, and stopped.
‘Is your friend okay?’ she said, giving him a quick glance as she smoothed the sign in place.
‘She is.’
She shook her head on her way back to the desk. ‘And by that glazed look, I’m guessing the drinks invite’s off the board now. How do you do it, Nic? You’re like honey to a bee.’
‘My magnetic personality, babe. And it was a mutual decision to share the room, under the circumstances.’
‘Of course it was,’ she said, amused. ‘You’re obviously her hero. I’d hate you on behalf of all women if I didn’t know you better.’ She waved him off. ‘Now go away. I’m too busy and too married to be sidetracked by a charmer like you.’
He grinned—charm had nothing to do with it. Fate had played right into his hands. Man, he had to love volcanoes. Even lousy reporters.
‘And if you’re not careful, Nic,’ she was going on as she resumed her seat in front of her computer, ‘one of these days you’re going to find yourself charmed right back and life as you know it now will be a distant memory.’
He gave her a wave as he moved off. ‘Not gonna happen.’
Kerry didn’t look up from her screen. ‘Uh-huh.’
He took the elevator, jogged across the sky bridge and onto grass, dodging passengers, following the arrivals road and outdoor car-parking, his mind reliving their up-close and the way Charlotte had responded. As if she couldn’t get enough. He grinned to himself as he waited at the kerb for an airport bus, then crossed a median strip and headed for a line of bushes. Who’d have thought? Charlotte whoever-she-was was one hot babe.
And she was waiting in his room. Their room.
So what the hell was he waiting for? Why was he out running in this cold blustery wind when he could be getting better acquainted on that big wide bed with a woman who, if he was reading her right, wanted the same thing?
Because he’d already decided to run before she’d given him the hot look. Then chosen to take a damn shower—alone. She’d made it abundantly clear. She’d needed time. Fair enough. And now he thought about it, he wanted to give her that time to mull it over and be sure. Because he was sure he didn’t want her backing out once they got started. In fact, he was so ready to get started, his body so tightly wound and hot, it was a wonder he could move at all.
In his experience conservative types in silk suits and pearls weren’t compatible with one-night stands. But dress sense aside, she’d not played the distressed damsel card. The guy had been seriously hassling her but she’d held her own—like the strong heroines he portrayed in his computer games. He liked that about her. She wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself even though he’d seen the flicker of panic in her eyes. So if she changed her mind, he reckoned she’d let him know.
Testosterone surged through him, tightening his muscles, pumping through his blood, and all he could think about was getting her naked and exploring the abundantly curved body he’d held against him. With his eyes, with his hands. With his mouth. Hell—he hoped she wasn’t the type to change her mind.
He checked his watch. Time enough to have finished that shower. And if not … well, he’d just have to finish it with her. He turned back towards the hotel, making a detour via the terminal’s food court on the way.
Since she’d already told the guy, and she’d needed the time to breathe, Charlotte took the shower. With no change of clothes available, and not wanting to crease her suit any more than it already was, she put the terry bathrobe provided by the hotel on over her underwear.
She swiped the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her mouth looked plumper, fuller. Her eyes looked bigger. More slumberous. Bedroom eyes. Oh, God. She rubbed a hand over her heart, which still hadn’t settled into its usual rhythm. She’d never had a one-night stand before. Never been with another man before; Flynn had been a part of her life since her mid-teens.
Part of her life? Huh. She picked up her brush, dragged it through her hair with hard, swift strokes. Their relationship had been over less than two weeks when she’d seen him and the glamorous daughter of a wealthy businessman in the newspaper’s social pages.
So she was getting on with her new life, starting today. She’d never met a guy’s gaze—so full on and meaningful—the way she had Nic’s just now. And he was coming back to see how they got along.
And with that look in his eyes it could mean only one thing: sex. Hot and fast and uncomplicated. Spontaneous. Frivolous. Happy. And wasn’t that what she wanted too? Just for tonight. Then she’d never have to see him again.
Oh. My. Was that really Charlotte Dumont thinking those thoughts?
Swinging away from her unsettling image, she gathered her things and tentatively opened the door. Hearing no movement—so Nic hadn’t returned yet—she walked into the bedroom.
Nic’s backpack sat next to hers on the luggage rack; his spicy scent lingered on his discarded clothes on the back of the chair. He wasn’t here yet he was all around her. She noticed some glossy brochures he’d left on the desk. She didn’t want to get personally involved with him, wasn’t ready for another relationship, but they were … just travel pamphlets. Nothing personal, nothing private. She couldn’t resist picking them up.
The Hawaiian Islands. Brochures on deep-sea fishing, golf, whale-watching expeditions. The best surfing spots. He’d marked off some, made notes she couldn’t decipher and crossed out others. He was on his way to Hawaii for what looked like a full-on guy vacation. No wonder he looked so fit. Bronzed. Well … nourished. He obviously knew how to chill out and have fun.
The word conjured up all sorts of scenarios; not the outdoor kind, but the intimate indoor kind involving him and her and that big bed with its soft white pillows. Her whole body burned. It wanted to burn alongside his. It wanted to know what it was like to be made love to by a man with Nic’s expertise because one thing she was sure of was his ability to pleasure a woman. And then he’d be off to Hawaii and she’d be totally satisfied.
But it had to be her way. Her rules. No talking about themselves and their lives beyond what happened in this room. No swapping phone numbers and email addresses and promises to catch up. She didn’t want him catching up. She wanted one night to prove to herself that she wasn’t the girl Flynn thought she was.
Anticipation raced through her body. To calm herself, she made a cup of the complimentary coffee provided and slid the curtains back as the afternoon faded and the sky took on the early evening hues of orange and lavender. She sat on the only armchair and flicked through a women’s magazine she’d bought earlier but she soon tossed it onto the nearby desk, too frazzled to concentrate on some superstar’s private life exposed to the world.
And if it hadn’t been for Nic, her private break-up with the popular candidate for the upcoming state elections might have been public fodder too.
She really, really owed Nic. So she could have just bought him a bottle of wine or a meal to show her appreciation, couldn’t she? They were here until tomorrow morning at the earliest so it wasn’t too late to suggest catching a cab into the city and finding some cosy candlelit café …
Except then they’d come back to this room and that bed with a few glasses of happy in their systems and
