Then she curved a hand around his neck and pulled his mouth down hard on hers.
The rain came down in earnest, peppering his back with a thousand tiny blows. And yet he barely registered it, conscious only of the wet and willing woman underneath him. Her lips were avid, greedy. She nipped at his mouth, and the needlelike instant of pain only sent desire flaring in its wake. Alarm at the storm was forgotten. Thundering, pulsing through him was the unbearable compulsion to drive himself into her, to pour himself into that heat, that softness.
Taylor dragged Dev’s shirt over his head, not caring if she ripped it, craving skin under her palms, the ropy play of muscles under her fingers. It was life, urgency, need that flowed back and forth between them. Rain poured down in sheets. The sky lit with lightning, silhouetting him, making his eyes ghostly pale for a moment.
He dragged off her bikini bottoms, and moved back up over her; she raked her nails down his back. Gentleness was only a memory. There was no time for foreplay and none was needed. The storm played on some primitive part of both of them and they were more ready than either had ever been before.
When he slid into her, it was hard and deep, and so fast it took her breath away. Her cry was sharp, even as she wrapped her legs around his waist. They took each other tooth and claw, each flash of pleasure, each flash of pain a reminder that they were alive in the fury of the storm.
And when they tumbled into orgasm together, their exultant cries echoed against the background of the thunder.
TAYLOR LAY BACK, PILLOWING her head on Dev’s stomach. His hand stroked her cheek.
“There’s lunch in the cooler in the hull,” he said.“When I can move, maybe.”
Sunlight shone down through the dissipating clouds. One minute the fury of the storm, the next, golden calm. This was weather in the tropics.
“The boat made it through okay, right?” Taylor asked.
“We got lucky.”
“I’ll say,” she said, giving a contented laugh.
“I’ll say one thing, sailing with you beats the hell out of sailing with Raoul.”
“I should hope so.” She pulled off her sunglasses and looked at the play of sunlight and clouds. “Are we going to run into trouble going home?”
“I don’t see why. The storm’s over. We can hang out for a couple of hours and eat or head on up the coast, either way. As long as we start for home a couple of hours before dusk, we’ll be perfect.”
“It’s perfect right now.” It was, she thought, lying with Dev’s hand in her hair, the sun beginning to shine warm on her, and the regular rhythm of his breath pillowing her head. She didn’t want it to end. Longing tugged at her. She wasn’t ready to give this up, not just the lazy days, but the passion, the companionship, the laughter, the adventure.
A sudden bolt of alarm hit her. Oh, no, she thought. This wasn’t about a vacation fling or a physical affair. This was something much more dangerous, this tug. Flings didn’t feel this good, and nothing that felt this good came without a price. Dev Carson was on the rebound. Anyway, however much she might feel as if she knew him after they’d spent every moment together in the past week, she didn’t. She, of all people, had reason to appreciate that you never really knew anyone.
“Are you okay?” Dev asked. “You just jumped.”
“I was just dozing off,” she lied, even as every muscle in her body screamed to flee. She hadn’t feared the waves on the ocean before they’d landed. She hadn’t feared the lightning. Despite the obvious danger, both had filled her with a strange exhilaration.
This is what she feared.
It was okay, she reasoned. When she woke up the next morning, it would be over. Twenty-four hours from now, she’d be on a plane, safe, flying home. She’d never see him again.
A long-term thing? He didn’t want it, she didn’t want it. Everything they wanted from each other they’d found in the physical connection. Anything else was just foolishness, confusing sex with something more. She’d known the man for a week. Okay, so maybe they’d been together nearly every moment of that week, maybe the time translated into months of dating, but it was only a fling.
Nothing more.
7
IT WAS RIDICULOUS TO FEEL down, Dev thought as he watched the orange and white airport shuttle pull away from the front of the resort. That shuttle was carrying Taylor away from him. He could still taste her on his lips, could still remember the way it had felt to wake with her that morning.
Still, it was over. Probably for the best, he told himself as he turned back to the open air lobby with its lush central planter open to the sky and its whistling macaws. Definitely for the best. After all, it was what they had agreed to in the beginning. It had been a great week—a dream week—but it was time to get back to real life.He’d just gotten out of one relationship. The last thing he needed to do was jump into another. That would be bad for both of them. Best to do the smart thing and consign the whole fling to his personal history book.
And he was so full of shit, he thought to himself sardonically, if he figured for one minute that he could go back to Baltimore and stay away from her.
“Hola, amigo.” A hand clapped him on the shoulder and he turned to find Raoul. They shook hands in a thumbs-up clasp. “Tomorrow is your last day, eh?”
Dev nodded. “Got to go back to work.”
“You should move down here, my friend. If you worked at the Iberonova, you could stay always in paradise.”
The problem was that without Taylor, it wasn’t really paradise anymore.
“And the señorita,” Raoul gave him a knowing look, “does she go back with you?”
Dev frowned and shook his head. “No. She just left for home.”
“Ah. No wonder the long face, amigo. But you will see her again. You live in the same town, no?”
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Well, yeah, but it’s a little bigger than San Miguel,” he said, referring to Cozumel’s tiny village. “We probably won’t run into each other on the street.”
Raoul gave him an amused glance. “In my country, a smart man does not leave such things to chance. She is a very lovely woman, the señorita. The sort who might be hard to forget.”
“She is a very stubborn woman, also.”
“Ah.” His eyes lit. “The very best kind. A challenge, yes, but a prize worth winning.” He kissed his fingertips and flicked them outward.
Dev stared at him. Raoul looked back steadily. Finally Dev laughed. “Do you know everything, Raoul?”
He gave a modest shrug. “Only that which is worth knowing, amigo.”
TAYLOR STARED OUT THE WINDOW of the plane, watching the serene blue of the Gulf of Mexico pass away beneath her. She shifted in her seat and the twinge of sore muscles from her inner thighs had her thinking again about Dev. As though she’d stopped thinking of him for a moment since the taxi had pulled away from the resort. Or since she’d first seen him on the beach a week before, for that matter.
Of course, it wasn’t leaving him behind that had her wistful. It was just normal end-of-vacation blues. She wouldn’t think about how good it had felt to hold on to him, she wouldn’t think about his soft mouth and those callused hands that could make her shiver just brushing across her arm. She specifically wouldn’t think about how it had felt to fall asleep with him, to feel him press a sleepy kiss to her hair when she turned over in his arms.He probably drank straight out of the milk carton and left his dirty socks on the bathroom floor, she told herself sternly. No doubt if they’d been together for more than a week he would have driven her crazy. Definitely, the magic would have worn off.
No, the week was over—and with it, their arrangement. It was just as well, really. It had been luscious and memorable, but she had no intention of walking back into a relationship. Just the idea of it gave her the willies.
“Something to drink for you?”
Taylor glanced up to see the flight attendant looking at her expectantly. “Please,” she said. “I’ll h
ave…” A smile bloomed across her face. “I’ll have a shot of tequila with a lime.”
Like postcards, images from the week just past flashed in her mind, the iguana that walked out of the foliage a foot from her toes and disappeared in a stand of palmettos, the school of gray and cobalt fish that had surrounded her when they’d dived the reef, the hermit crabs that she’d watched totter down the beach carrying their oversized whorled shells.
She reached in her pocket and brought out a tiny pointed shell that Dev had pressed into her hand as she waited for the shuttle. “A memory of Cozumel,” he’d said.
And the glow of memory went through her to her toes.
“Okay, here we go, one tequila,” the flight attendant said, setting the glass at her elbow.
Taylor picked it up and held it up to the window. Watching the water of the Gulf slide away below, she made a mental toast to Mexico, to vacation flings, and most of all to Dev Carson. It had been nice while it lasted.
THE BRUSHED STEEL PANELS of the baggage carousel clacked as Taylor stood waiting for her bag, staring with distaste at the wool coat and scarf she held. If there was no bliss like escaping the howling chill of winter to the sleepy heat of the Caribbean, there was no shock like the return. She struggled to forget the fact that twenty-four hours before she’d been dancing under the stars in a spaghetti strapped mini dress and sandals.
Dancing in Dev’s arms.“Stop it,” she said aloud.
“This isn’t a good sign,” said a voice behind her. “You go to the Caribbean for three weeks and you come back talking to yourself? I told you that you should have taken me along.”
Taylor turned to see a woman wearing a red wool beret over a wealth of dark, curly hair. The beret matched her red lips and rosy cheeks, not to mention her vivid red cape. Taylor grinned at her and stepped in for a tired hug.
She and Jody Bradshaw had been college roommates together at Brown, traveling the sometimes bumpy road to adulthood. But it was the road they’d traveled since that time that had truly cemented their friendship. It had been long and fraught with peril, but they had managed it.
“Welcome home. You look disgustingly tanned and healthy. I’m going to call my travel agent.”
“I am your travel agent.”
“Well, get to work and book me to Mexico, already.” Jody eyed her. “How was it, anyway?”
“It was a great vacation. It’s just the eight hours of airplanes and airports that wear me out.”
“Gee, and here I was hoping it was a gorgeous man with an inexhaustible sex drive.”
“That, too,” Taylor told her.
Jody stared at her. “You? Ms. Pure As A Nun? Now this I gotta hear.”
“Trust me, I’ll—” Taylor broke off as she spied her bag sailing serenely. She followed it for a few frantic steps before wrestling it off the carousel.
“I still don’t understand how you can be gone for a week and only take a garment bag,” Jody said, taking Taylor’s computer bag. “I take more than that for a weekend.”
“Remember, I’m the one who gives seminars on packing for your vacation. Besides, you know hot weather clothes take up less space than sweaters and snow boots,” Taylor added. She stopped near the door and gave a baleful glance at her heavy wool coat.
“You’d better bite the bullet,” Jody advised. “It’s about twenty-five degrees out there. Welcome home, pookums.”
Taylor pulled the coat on and wrapped her scarf around her neck, stifling the groan.
“So tell me about your vacation and loafing, I mean working, while you visited all those resorts,” Jody said, taking the garment bag and heading toward the parking garage. “At least one of us should have had a good time.”
“Hey, it’s been over five years for me. I had it coming.”
“I’ll say. So tell me about him.”
“Let’s see.” She pretended to think. “His name was Dev. He had a gorgeous body, a fabulous mouth, eyes you could dive into.” The sudden twinge of longing she felt took her by surprise. “He was sexy, funny, with these amazing shoulders—” her hands fluttered in the air to shape them “—eyes you could swim in…”
“You’re repeating yourself,” Jody said dryly.
“His eyes deserve it.”
“What color?”
“Sea-green, like drift glass.”
Jody drew to a halt in front of her car. “I can just imagine. So where does he live, Peoria?”
“Not exactly.”
“Salt Lake City?”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “Um, around here, I think.”
Jody goggled at her. “You’re kidding, right?”
Taylor shook her head as she put her bag in the trunk.
“Oh, that’s too perfect. Not only do you have a vacation fling, but you get to keep going.”
“No way,” Taylor said emphatically. “It was a just for fun thing, but that’s it.”
“What are you talking about?” Jody exclaimed over the roof of the car before she got in. “This guy sounds like a god. You guys have already gotten together. There is no way you’re telling me that you don’t want to find him and start right back up with where you were.”
Taylor snapped on her seat belt. “Jody, the last thing I want is to get caught up in a relationship. We had a fling and it was fun, but that’s that.”
“Taylor, you just spent a week eating each other alive. Why not see him a few times?”
Taylor huffed impatiently. “Neither one of us wants it. He just got hung out to dry by his fiancée. I need to be the guy’s rebound woman like I need a hole in the head. Besides, I might have spent the week playing with him, but I’m still not too man crazy myself.”
“Sounds like you were crazy about him for a bit, though.”
“Why not? We were on vacation, there weren’t any rules. Why not run with it?” She brushed her hair back out of her face impatiently. “But that was there and now I’m here, and it’s over. Period.”
Jody pulled to a stop at the parking kiosk. “So, what, you’re never going to date again because you made a mistake with Bennett?”
“I’m not going to get swept off my feet, again, that’s for sure. I might start dating a nice man at some point,” Taylor said consideringly. “Someone who’s easygoing and understands what’s important to me.”
Jody pushed a bill at the parking attendant. “You mean a man you can twist around your little finger.”
“Are you saying I’ve got control issues?”
“I’m saying you’re so scared of being controlled that you’re going to ridiculous lengths to avoid it, to the point that you’re walking away from something that obviously has chemistry for no good reason.” She took back her change and put her car in gear. “Don’t be afraid to live again, or to make mistakes. That’s what life’s all about.” She punched the accelerator and headed out toward the highway.
8
THE HALLWAY THAT LED FROM the parking garage into the building was starkly utilitarian, the harsh fluorescent lighting showing each scrape and blemish on the industrial-gray walls. Walls that emanated winter chill. Even her thick funnel neck sweater and suede skirt didn’t block it. She was definitely back home, Taylor thought with a sigh.
At least she was coming back to a fully refurbished office. New carpet, the landlord had promised her. Fresh paint, a new door or two, and they’d replace the discolored lighting fixtures. Anticipation buzzed through her. A person ought to come back from vacation to at least some good news.Her shoes made a slapping noise on the tile as she reached the back door of DeWitt Travel. Frowning down, Taylor saw a small pool of water. A small plop disturbed the surface. Slowly, she looked up to see the warped and discolored panels in the acoustical ceiling. Another drop of water fell as she watched.
It couldn’t be anything in her offices, she told herself as she sorted through her key ring to open the door. There was no reason to worry. It took her two tries to get the key into the lock.
Instead of the cush of new
carpet, her high-heeled leather boots struck bare concrete floor in the short hall that led to the agency. Ahead of her spread an empty room. The desks were gone, the chairs were gone, the reception credenza was gone. She stifled a cry. It was as though someone had come in and gutted her office overnight, right down to the ground.
Oh, but it wasn’t just the furniture that was missing from the main room, she saw as she walked through the open space, fury making a little buzz in her ears. In one corner, the Sheetrock had been torn away to expose the studs and girders. Piles of watersoaked drywall sat on the concrete. The ceiling tiles were swollen or broken loose and wires dangled from holes where the new light fixtures were to go in. Rolls of carpet and padding lay against one wall.
Eyes wide, she whirled to look behind her, where her personal office and the combination lunch room/mail room formed the back of the office. Both were crammed with the missing furniture. The new carpeting, a handsome royal-blue, was already laid in those rooms but not in the main space.
The main space that was due to be open for business in half an hour.
“What the hell?” asked a familiar voice.
Taylor looked up to see Nicole, her senior agent, standing at the front door. “I take it you don’t know anything about this?” Taylor asked.
“I worked out of my apartment the whole time you were gone. I thought they were supposed to be done by today.”
“They were.”
“Well, what happened?”
“That’s exactly what I intend to find out,” Taylor said grimly. She headed toward the door just as a pair of jacketed workmen walked in carrying tools.
“Hey, you’re not supposed to be in here,” said one. Burly and ruddy-faced, he held a prybar and looked at her suspiciously.
“This is my business,” she returned. “I’m supposed to be working here right now. What happened?”
He shook his head. “Pipe got broken is what I heard. You’ll have to check with the boss. The water soaked all the Sheetrock, messed up the carpet.” His partner began ripping out the crumbling wall panels. “We’re supposed to put up new drywall today.”
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