Up In Flames: Body HeatCaught in the Act

by Lori Foster

  * * *

  Melanie felt a slick, sliding movement against her lower body and opened her mouth to scream again. She managed to gulp a mouthful of salt water. Visions of sharks made her panic real and unmanageable.

  But then Adam’s blond head broke the surface, and he dragged her upward against his solid body. “Mel!” She felt his legs brush her, tangling with her long skirts, his hard arms around her. Nothing in her life had ever felt so reassuring.

  “Oh, God.” She gripped him fiercely, trying her best to ignore the reality of her situation. She loved boats, the sunshine and fresh air, but she had never quite envisioned herself thrown overboard, at the mercy of the Gulf and all its aquatic denizens. “Oh, God, oh, God...”

  “Mel, you’re drowning me! It’s okay.”

  He tried to ease her away, but she got one hand knotted in his hair and held on for dear life. His familiar scent, one she’d never forget no matter how long she lived, surrounded her, and she crowded even closer. His hair was the same, still too long, too sexy, damn him, and she used it like an anchor, holding him tight. She didn’t want to be shark bait.

  Her voice shook uncontrollably when she spoke. “Where’s the damn boat? Where is it!?”

  “Sh. It’s all right,” he said. “We need to swim, honey.”

  “Swim? Swim!” A vicious wave slapped her in the face, water going up her nose, making her choke and sputter. The furious storm continued, almost pushing them under. Would the turbulent water draw the sharks or chase them away?

  Shouting to be heard, Adam said, “The boat is gone. Mel, loosen up, you’re ripping my hair out.”

  She tried, she really did. She’d so badly wanted to make a good impression on him, and this surely wasn’t it. But she couldn’t get her fingers to unknot. “This isn’t happening...this isn’t happening....”

  “Mel, calm down. The idiots on board are either too drunk or too stupid to realize they lost us. We’re on our own until they dock and count heads.”

  If they counted heads. He was right about them all being tipsy, and she’d so deliberately separated herself from them, wanting to be alone, needing the solitude. Would they even notice she was gone? She moaned long and loud. “We’ll drown!”

  “No, we won’t.” His voice was calm, sure, just as she remembered it. “We’re not far from shore. Can you swim?”

  “What about sharks?” She looked around wildly, terrified, not certain if what she saw were shadows in the water or merely waves.

  “There’s no sharks here.”

  Her head whipped back around, and she tightened her hand in his hair, making him wince. “How do you know?” she demanded, shaking his head, wanting confirmation. It would be just like Adam to pull her leg, to play on her fear.

  “Mel, damn it, turn me loose!”

  Through her panic, she read the pain on his face and struggled to relax her grip. Adam circled her waist with his strong arms and held her closer. The contact with his body startled her, despite her predicament. Always, when she’d imagined such a scenario, they’d been on dry land, he’d been filled with abject apologies, and she’d been benevolent in her forgiveness.

  Instead, she managed to make a total fool of herself. Not that it mattered if they were going to die, anyway.

  Speaking close to her ear, he said, “I’ve got a Florida guidebook, The Key to the Keys. No sharks in these waters, I promise. Now can you swim?”

  “Don’t let me go!”

  “Honey, I’m right here. But we need—”

  Something bumped into them. It was huge and...red. She gasped, again choking.

  “A float, surely heaven sent.” Adam smiled at her, his eyes narrowed against the impact of the waves, his lashes spiked with the rain and sea, his blond hair plastered to his skull. But he smiled, and she felt ridiculously reassured as she treaded water. “Mel? Can you climb on?”

  She remembered the float blowing off the deck, and he had offered it to her. Lord love him. She gratefully grabbed the rubber edge and with more panic than grace heaved her body mostly upon it. She gripped it so tightly, there was no way she’d lose her hold until she felt solid land beneath her feet. Her wet, clinging skirts were everywhere, and whether or not they covered her backside, she couldn’t say. She felt too numb to know, too frightened to care.

  She felt Adam rearrange the skirt, felt his hands on her flesh and merely said a prayer that they’d survive.

  “Now just hang on.” Moving to the back, Adam levered himself up over her until his head was even with her derriere. She felt his heavy, sodden leather case placed on the small of her back but didn’t begrudge him that. As long as she was out, she was happy to accommodate him. He began paddling and kicking, propelling them forward.

  She felt like an ineffectual idiot, like a hysterical dolt, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She continued to look around, watching for signs of creatures of any kind. If she spotted so much as a goldfish eye to eye, she’d lose her fragile grasp on control.

  A thought occurred to her, and she yelled over the storm, “How do you know which way to go?”

  “I’m guessing.”

  “What!” He mumbled something she couldn’t hear and his chin bumped her bottom, then he shouted, “The guidebook, remember? I figure we’re still somewhere between the Keys and Marco Island. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

  She thought to question him further but decided against it. Talking was too difficult at the moment, and her teeth were chattering too badly to make good sense anyway. It was easier to trust him and let him take over.

  But when it seemed like an hour had gone by and her lips were numb from the cold rain, she began to panic again. He could well be swimming them farther out into the Gulf, rather than inland. There could be whales as well as sharks, maybe even giant eels— She jumped when he reached up and touched her cheek.

  “Almost there, Mel. How’re you holding up?”

  For a moment she couldn’t believe what he’d said, then, incredulous, she asked, “Almost where?”

  “Shore. Look ahead.”

  He had better eyes than she if he could penetrate the sheet of rain, but when she looked as hard as she could, she thought she could see the outline of land. Her breath left her in a whoosh, and her heart began racing. “Where are we?”

  “Damned if I know. But if it’ll be solid beneath my feet, then it’s good enough for me.”

  Absolutely. She wanted out of the water and she didn’t care where. With a deep breath to fortify her, she released her death grip on the raft. Her knuckles hurt, her fingers felt stiff, but she extended her arms and began paddling.

  “Good girl. We’ll get there, Mel. You’ll see.”

  She kept paddling, but she closed her eyes, too, saying a silent prayer. Please, please, please let me live long enough to put my feet on land again.

  Almost ten minutes later, her prayers were answered.

  CHAPTER TWO

  When she realized Adam was standing, she almost cried with relief. She wanted to slide off the raft to make it easier for him, but the rain had let up and she could see more clearly. The land they approached looked ominous with an abundance of skinny, mangled palm trees, some practically hanging in the water, and spreading, spidery mangrove trees, making the island look more like a scraggly forest. The ocean floor was visible, and what she saw scared her to death. Shells, small fish, water weeds. She curled a little more tightly on the raft.

  “Do you think there’s...anything in the water?”

  At first Adam didn’t answer, just kept trudging forward, dragging her along. Finally, with weariness evident in every word, he said, “Nothing’s bit me yet.”

  Just the thought made her squeamish. A few more feet, and Adam walked past her, going the rest of the way to shore and collapsing onto his back.


  Alarmed, Mel realized the raft couldn’t very well be dragged in with her on it, and if she didn’t move, she’d float right back out to sea. Not that he seemed to care.

  Mustering her courage, she jumped off the raft—and sank as deep as mid-shins. The water was so shallow, Adam couldn’t have pulled her any farther along.

  Disregarding her blatant cowardice even as she carefully surveyed the shallow water, she attempted to act blasé, to hide her fear. She grabbed the raft and pulled it behind her as she waded out of the water.

  Her strappy little sandals were long gone, and her toes sank into the white sand. Her skirts, made to wrap twice around her waist, were sadly tangled, sticking wetly to her thighs, hindering her every movement. She stopped to shake them loose, to squeeze out some of the water, but it was useless. They clung to her like a second skin. She plopped down on the fine sand beside Adam. He didn’t move.

  His eyes were closed against the now gentle rain, his clothes every bit as ruined as hers, his mouth tight. And still he looked incredibly gorgeous.

  All the old feelings of inadequacy swamped her. For as long as she could remember, Adam had been vital, outgoing, easily the center of attention whenever he entered a room. And she’d been a fading wallflower, crippled by her vulnerability and shyness. When she’d seen him on the boat, she’d begun reviving plans to show him how she’d changed, to prove she wasn’t the little girl he probably remembered with pity. She’d thought to wait until they’d docked, change into something more sophisticated and then approach him.

  Instead, he’d approached her, taking her totally off guard, and she’d behaved like an idiot. “Adam?”

  “Hmm?” He looked a little pale, his mouth pinched.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Just dandy. I always take an hour-long swim to get the old blood pumping.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Just like him to be so sarcastic at a moment like this.

  But then she realized he had to be worn out. To her shame, she hadn’t helped him a bit. She looked at him again and considered apologizing, but couldn’t decide how. He was still her high-school nemesis, yet now he was her hero, as well. The circumstances had her grinding her teeth.

  She looked around, up and down the shoreline, and saw nothing but bent and twisted trees, sand, a few pelicans. The island wasn’t large by any stretch, and she wondered how it would fare if the storm returned. “Adam...”

  He groaned and reached up to rub at his head. “Talk softly, okay? I’ve got a ringing headache.”

  She lowered her voice appropriately. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

  “Not a clue.”

  She looked around again. It was a safe bet they weren’t on Marco Island, so it had to be one of the smaller islands. She started to stand, her intent to locate people, houses, anything that looked even remotely domestic or civilized. But Adam caught at her arm.

  “No, don’t wander off. I don’t want to take the chance we’ll get separated. Just give me a few minutes and we’ll start exploring together.” He said it all with his eyes closed, and her concern for him doubled despite her resentment of the situation.

  Sinking into the sand, she looked him over. He lay on the shore like a starfish, arms and legs spread, his posture one of complete exhaustion. His tie remained tight around his throat, his bag still attached to his belt. Melanie figured the least she could do was try to make him comfortable, to prove he no longer cowed her. And he had jumped in after her, had kept her safe. If it hadn’t been for him, the sharks—she gulped—probably would have had her for lunch. Though she hadn’t actually seen any sharks, she was still certain they were there. And if nothing else, his presence had given her immeasurable comfort.

  She reached for the strap on his bag, but before she could get a good grip on it, his fingers bit into her wrist.

  His eyes opened and they pinned her, hot and intense. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Uh-oh. Melanie remembered those eyes from high school, so compelling, so sexy. Adam Stone had always had the ability to turn females into mush. Though he’d been poor and oftentimes dangerous, women had gravitated to him in hordes. But she’d resisted. She’d had little choice. His only interest in her had been spite.

  “I was going to move your bag and undo your tie.”

  “Why?” The visible signs of exhaustion momentarily left his body, and he looked ready to attack.

  She made a sound of disgust. “You look miserable, that’s why.”

  “Like you care?” He snorted. “Aren’t you the same woman who just a while ago was ready to bite off my face?”

  She blushed, annoyed that he’d point that out. Damn him, how did he constantly do this to her? They’d only been reunited a very short time, and already she was on the defensive! Since she’d first met him, it had been that way. Right before she’d left for college, he tried to pretend an interest in her, but she’d been wise to him by then. She knew he was only setting her up so he could humiliate her. She’d refused him as quietly and with as little confrontation as possible.

  But she’d come home from college a changed woman. Away from her parents’ smothering influence, she’d grown into her own, able to stand up to anyone when the situation warranted. She’d anxiously looked forward to her next meeting with Adam Stone, anxiously practiced all the things she’d say to him, how she’d put him in his place.

  How she’d make him see her as more than a pawn.

  Only he was gone by then, moved away after his father’s death. And she’d forever felt cheated of her big moment.

  She’d never forgotten him; she doubted she ever would. Other than her parents, he’d had more influence in her life than any other person.

  Damn him, she would not let him do this to her again! She was a mature businesswoman, and she’d behave as such, no matter his provocation.

  With her hands fisted in her ruined skirts, she forced a calm tone and said, “I was trying to be cordial, Adam, considering you played the gallant and rescued me.”

  He scowled. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You dove in after me,” she reminded him. “You didn’t have to do that, all things considered. The least I can do now is try to be nice.”

  He stared, his expression stunned. “Nice?” Then he laughed and dropped his head onto the sand with a groan. He was silent a moment before muttering, “Well, what do you know. You owe me.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Didn’t you? It’s appropriate, don’t you think? My clothes are ruined, and it’s for certain I’ve missed my damned meeting.” He cocked an eye open to look at her. “All because I jumped in to save you.”

  “Don’t curse.”

  Coming up on one elbow, he growled, “I’ll damn well curse if I want to! You have no idea what missing that meeting means.”

  She leaned back, away from the force of his anger. Subdued just a bit, she said, “So tell me.”

  He glared at her, then turned his head away. After a second, he plopped back on the sand. “Forget it.”

  She shrugged, but since he wasn’t watching her, he didn’t see it. Guilt gnawed at her. “I suppose I do owe you. A little.”

  “A lot.”

  She sighed. “Very well. I owe you a lot. How much money will you be out because of our...misfortune?”

  His gaze turned lethal, and the words were little more than a whisper. “You’re not going to offer me money, are you, sweetheart?”

  “But you said I owed you.”

  “You owe me gratitude, that’s all. I don’t want your damn money.”

  “Oh.” The money would have been so much easier.

  He shifted, putting one arm behind his head, watching her, a half smile on his sensuous mouth. “Okay, Mel, since we’re agreed, have at it.”

 
“Excuse me?”

  “Go ahead and make me comfortable. That was your original intent, right? I await your efforts.”

  He said it like a dare, and her temper pricked. She would not let him, or any other man, intimidate her ever again. So what that he was more muscled now, that maturity made him even more masculine, more sexy? His blond hair was streaked from hours in the sun; his eyes were dark gold. He looked incredible, while she knew she looked a wreck.

  It was bad enough that he’d spotted her in the casual outfit she’d chosen for the boat. Her halter and loose, lingerie-style shorts were made of the same silky material, and covered by the long, thin skirts, but she’d still felt too physically exposed to face him. The cabin had been too crowded to hide in, and then she’d realized she didn’t want to hide from him. Not ever again. But she thought he’d be too involved with the women swarming him to notice her.

  She’d obviously been wrong.

  Now, after her ordeal, she looked wretched. She could feel her eye makeup smeared on her cheeks, knew her short hair stuck out at all angles. She’d lost even more weight over the years; while he was thick with muscle, she was lacking the lush curves men seemed to admire, and in her outfit, there was no way to disguise her figure.

  But she couldn’t change any of that, so she’d simply have to make the best of an awkward, unimaginable situation.

  Mustering her courage, she again reached for his bag. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be unlatched at the handle; it had to be undone at his belt. The front of his belt. Without looking, she could sense Adam’s smirk. He didn’t think she’d do it; she intended to prove him wrong.