“I’m your man,” he promised

Taylor simply smiled at him. Even the torrential downpour didn’t distract him. She’d gone only about three steps toward the beach bungalow when Dev’s arm looped around her, turning her to face him. Then he was kissing her mindless while the warm rains drenched them. Lightning crackled nearby, and they ran inside for cover.

Impatience gouged at her, impatience to feel him hard and hot in her hand. Impatience to have him hard and hot inside her.

He hooked his fingers in the sides of her bikini bottom and pulled it down slowly over her thighs.

Her muscles went weak and she sagged backward into the macramé hammock chair hanging from the ceiling. His eyes looked black, the pupils dilated with desire. He got down on his knees in front of her as she slid to the edge of the chair and hooked her feet over his shoulders. Before she could say anything, he leaned in and put his mouth against her where she was slick and hot.

“You certainly are…” was all she could manage as a response. She let out a soft cry as he went to work with his talented tongue—teasing her, tormenting her in the way that after mere days he’d learned she liked best.

Dear Reader,

All the books in the UNDER THE COVERS trilogy were great fun to write, but Slippery When Wet was undoubtedly the best. You see, I put together the opening chapters while sitting on a beach in Cozumel, soaking up sun and listening to the waves (don’t ask if I dropped top—I’ll never tell). My husband and I took our honeymoon in Mexico, and it’s been a special place for me ever since. I loved the idea of a holiday fling, of lovers exploring the tropics…and each other. As for the things you can get away with doing at a beach resort, well, let’s just say the book let me unleash my creativity.

It’s a summertime book designed to be read on the beach. Still, we can’t always be on vacation. If you wind up reading it at home, I hope you still get the scent of cocoa butter and the feel of sand between your toes. Close your eyes and let me take you where the tropical breezes blow. Drop me a line at kristinhardy@earthlink.net and tell me what you think. Or visit my Web site at www.kristinhardy.com for contests, e-mail threads between characters in my books, recipes and updates on my recent and upcoming releases.

Have fun,

Kristin Hardy

Slippery When Wet
Kristin Hardy

MILLS & BOON

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To Holly, who knows why, and to Stephen, for being my rock.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Prologue

ELIOT HAD GOTTEN IT WRONG. April wasn’t the cruelest month, thought Taylor DeWitt as the needle sharp bits of ice whirled down in her face, February was. Late February, more precisely, the month of bone-chilling sleet, the month when winter seemed endless, the month of her worst ordeals.

On the other hand, February had been the month she’d gained her freedom, the month she’d found her strength, the month she’d launched her business three years before. An uncommonly successful launch, she thought, shivering at the edge of the crosswalk in the biting wind that blew in off Baltimore’s Inner Harbor and plastered her chin-length blond hair down to her head. The city’s picturesque Chesapeake Bay location lost some of its charm in winter. Farther inland, powdery snow might blanket the rolling Maryland countryside, but here in Baltimore the winters were just icy, clammy and bleak, making people eager to go somewhere warm.

Small wonder then that February was the busiest time in the local travel industry, especially for an agency that specialized in tropical getaways the way hers did. Or had up to now, she thought balefully. She scowled at the scaffolding and construction barriers surrounding the skyscraper that housed her office. Being downtown kept her close to her corporate clients while bringing her walk-in business from the shopping and conference area. The location had been pure gold for her, but for months now, the loss of business due to construction had her company teetering on financial worry. Meanwhile, Alan Champlin of Champlin Travel kept hanging around to tempt her with flattery and a juicy buyout offer.

Another blast of icy wind whisked up under her coat as she crossed with the light and she gave a heartfelt curse. Thank God she was headed south soon. If construction was going to have her offices closed anyway, it only made sense. Her agents could still work at home. Taylor had warmer plans: two weeks of reviewing properties in the Caribbean, and then a few precious days for herself in Mexico.

She worked her way around the pedestrian detour that led to her office. The agency had only just begun making a comfortable profit the year before. She had a bit of a cushion from that and from the modest trust fund she’d used to launch the venture, but no firm could sustain such a revenue hit month after month. Four weeks, she reminded herself. In four weeks it would be done.

Or so the landlord had promised.

Despite the financial woes that dogged her, Taylor couldn’t help smiling at the gold palm trees stenciled on the glass, the curling letters that spelled out DeWitt Travel. The business was hers, and she’d made a success of it, even with her current challenges. No way was she going to sell out to some mall chain. The chime jingled as she pushed open the door.

“Hi, Allie,” she said to the receptionist, who sat behind her modular breakfront. “Did I get any messages while…”

“That’s a crock,” a voice said angrily. A male voice. “I bought the insurance, I did everything I was supposed to. Don’t tell me it’s no good.”

Taylor looked over the ivy-topped barrier behind the receptionist. Whoever he was, he was tall enough for her to see his tousled light brown hair, not to mention a not-inconsiderable pair of shoulders clad in a dark blue parka.

“You need to fix it. Now.” The words held the snap of ire and command. Taylor stepped swiftly into the office area.

He stood in front of Glynnis’s desk. Glynnis was her newbie agent, who looked half alarmed, half mesmerized. All Taylor could see was faded jeans, heavy work boots, and the parka.

“Is there a problem here?” she asked in the calm, reasonable voice she’d developed to soothe even the crankiest customers.

He spun around to look at her and she understood the expression on Glynnis’s face. He was tall. He was intimidating. He was obviously angry.

And he was undeniably gorgeous.

It took a conscious effort of will to remain cool. Cool, she found, was the best way of defusing anyone’s anger. Except Bennett, who’d only ever gotten angrier, but he was only a dark memory.

This one had the carved cheekbones and strong chin of a Viking, and the menacing Viking had only fury in his eyes. His jawline might have been as taut as it looked, or maybe it was just because it was currently clenched in anger. She could imagine him clad in leather and fur, striding ashore from his galley to lay waste to a helpless town. His eyes, though, surprised her. Deep set and long lashed, they were a sea-green.

And currently narrowed in irritation.

“A problem? I’ll tell you what the problem is. I bought travel insurance nine months ago when I booked this trip. Now I need to cancel and your agent is telling me that I can’t.”

“We can cancel it, sir. We just can’t get you your money back.” Glynnis looked at her helplessly. “He got the basic insurance package.”

“Let me see.” Taylor reached out for the policy. “This is trip interruption insurance. It’s standard. Covers family death or hospitalization. Why are you canceling, Mr….”

“Carson. Dev Carson.” His words were clipped. “The trip was a honeymoon. The wedding’s been called off.”

Wedded bliss wasn’t for everyone, that much she knew from bitter personal experience. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” he said shortly.

“Yes, well…” She scanned the insurance contract but she already knew the terms by heart. “Unfortunately, this policy doesn’t cover your reason for cancellation.”

“Then why do you sell it?”

She needed to concentrate on the discussion, not on the alarmingly fascinating angles and planes of his face. “It covers what most people need,” Taylor said automatically. “On occasion, when we know people’s plans call for something more comprehensive, we have that as well.”

“It’s not like I planned to call off my wedding. I didn’t get a detailed explanation of the coverage choices. Under the circumstances, I think I should get my money back.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Carson. There’s nothing I can do. If the trip were just a couple of days perhaps we could work something out, but this is—” she scanned his file “—three weeks. We simply can’t swing it, especially since you’re scheduled to leave in four days.” Especially now, when the company was as cash poor as it could be.

His brows lowered. “Do you think I can afford to throw away that kind of money on nothing?”

“Perhaps you could still go. We could try to get the tour company to allow you to substitute companions. Maybe you could take a friend.”

“I’m not feeling like company at the moment,” he snapped. Just for a moment, an emotion other than anger flared in those sea-colored eyes. “Look, I bought the insurance I was offered. What are you going to do to make good on it?” he asked with an edge to his voice.

It was Taylor’s turn to bristle. “Let’s not get personal about this.”

“Oh, but it is personal, Ms. DeWitt,” he said silkily, reading her name off her badge. “My fiancée and I chose a destination—and insurance—based on your agency’s recommendation. You look like the sort of person who believes in standing behind her business.”

Those extraordinary eyes held steady on hers. Guilt pricked at her. If times had been better, she’d probably have offered to make good on his trip. But times weren’t good, Champlin was stalking her agency, and taking an $8,000 hit was simply out of the question.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Carson. I’ll check into whether any of the resorts or the tour company will give you a break. I warn you, though, at this point it’s unlikely.”

“What’s unlikely is that I or anyone I know will use your agency again,” he said tightly.

“I’d urge you to reconsider taking the trip. Cozumel is lovely this time of year. I’ll be down there myself soon on business.”

“Yeah? Well, I hope you make a better choice of travel agencies than I did,” he said cuttingly and stalked out, letting in a blast of cold, damp air.

1

EXOTIC BIRDS HOOTED as Taylor threaded her way along the flagstone path that wove through the lush Mexican jungle of the Iberonova resort, a straw bag slung over her shoulder. To either side of the central sweep of jungle lay the brightly colored stucco huts that housed the hundreds of guests, but a person would never know it. Walking down the winding path, watching monkeys swing overhead, Taylor might have been deep in the Yucatan jungle. A trio of rust-colored birds with nodding topknots on their heads stared at her as she walked by. The enormous, intricately carved stone medallion that leaned against a tree trunk off the path looked Mayan, as though she were approaching the ancient jungle city of Chichen Itza.

She emerged from the trees at the curving edge of an enormous free-form pool. Palm trees and brightly colored umbrellas shaded the guests who sprawled on lounges, dozing or reading or sipping fancy drinks from the swim-up pool bar. At the center of the pool, a stone fountain sprayed droplets of water that glittered in the sun. Cocoa butter scented the air.

And she was warm, warm, warm. No coats, no sleet, no shivering. A sarong and a bikini were all she needed, for the air was soft and hot as a lover’s touch.

Taylor skirted the pool, heading toward the beach. Ahead, a short stone walkway leading to the sand was lined with parallel walls of warm golden stone that rose higher than a man’s head. On their inner surfaces, a series of primitively carved stone faces with Mayan features stared impassively at one another. A young girl turned a porcelain knob as Taylor passed and water gushed out of the stone lips and out of the fluted funnels below them. The guest showers, Taylor realized. Leave it to the Iberonova to turn even the prosaic into atmospheric whimsy. Then she looked through the showers at the vista beyond and caught her breath.

Ahead of her, curving palm trees framed the view of an ocean that stretched out an impossible shade of aqua, darkening to indigo on the horizon. A white catamaran with a sail banded in turquoise, blue-green, and magenta glided over the waves. Palm-thatched palapas dotted the beach like giant parasols, guests stretched out beneath them on sun couches. And the waves whispered.

She couldn’t stop the smile.

For two weeks, she’d been hopping from island to island, resort to resort, sometimes three or four properties in a day. Every night, she was somewhere different, never anywhere long enough to unpack, let alone relax. It hadn’t been about relaxing, though. It had been about work. Admittedly, work she enjoyed, but work nevertheless.

This, though, this was her time. Seven precious days to herself, to sleep in until noon, to read, to lie on the beach. To do absolutely nothing that she didn’t want to do. She picked up her straw bag and started down the broad beach.

The sand was hot on her feet, the sun warmed her shoulders and made her glad of her dark glasses. As she walked past the sun worshippers, she relaxed to hear the mix of languages. No Texas twangs or Southern drawls or nasal Yankee accents talking about PTA meetings and yesterday’s big game here. The mix of French, Italian, German, and Spanish danced into her ears. Perhaps they were talking about the banal, but with the musical flow of syllables, it hardly mattered. The English she heard was from other shores—British, Australian, New Zealander. Americans were outside the norm here.

Which was probably just as well, considering the fact that most of the European and South American women matter-of-factly dropped top when they hit the beach. Taylor set her straw bag in the shade of a palapa, pulling over a sun couch. A beautiful Hispanic woman walked toward her, breasts standing out proud and high and completely bare. Taylor smiled to think how the vice president of the Rotary Club and his wife would have reacted to the sight. Probably just as well that she’d booked them to Fort Lauderdale.

She untied her sarong and spread her towel out on the lounger. For a moment, she stared at it, then she moved it back out into the sun. Just for a little while, she’d give herself the luxury of baking in the heat, before she yielded to reason and shifted into the shade.

Lying back on her couch, she sighed in pure bliss, listening to the soft rush of the waves, the breeze whispering through the palm fronds of the palapa. Reaching into her bag, she rummaged for the bottle of sunblock. With her brown eyes, she was the rare blonde who took to the sun readily, but it still paid to be careful in the tropics. She’d seen the lobster-red tourists and didn’t want to be one.

She spread sunblock along her legs, idly watching a pair of topless women walking up the beach. What must it feel like to have the sun warm your bare breasts, skin that hadn’t felt the caress of the sun in years, if ever?

It was a surprisingly enticing notion, she thought as she smoothed the coconut-scented lotion along her arms. Intriguing.

Tempting.

A woman on a sun couch nearby chattered something in what sounded like Italian to her male companion and turned to lie on her back. He made a pretend grab for one of her breasts and she batted his hands away laughingly.

Like night and day compared to what she’d known, Taylor thought, remembering her ex-husband Bennett, who’d had a positive aversion to sexually assertive women.

At least when the woman in question was his wife.

Taylor shook her head as she spread sunblock on her neck and chest. The past was the past. She wasn’t the woman he’d cheated on, the demoralized mouse that he’d bullied into submission anymore. She’d ignored Bennett’s rants and forced through the divorce. So what if marriage was just one more thing she hadn’t finished? She’d been so focused on living down her family reputation as a quitter that she’d stayed in the marriage long after she’d realized it was toxic. Some things weren’t meant to be finished. It was just as well that she’d gotten on with her life.

But had she? Taylor set the bottle in the sand. Until Bennett, she’d been quick to have a good time, quick to be outrageous. Before she’d quit college to marry him, those were the qualities—her sexiness, her wildness—that had drawn him. Then it had all come to a screeching halt. Since the divorce, since she’d gotten free of him, she’d rebuilt her self-esteem. She’d thrown herself into work and made a success of herself. It gave her pride. On the other hand, it had also taken all of her time and energy, leaving none for her private life.

No more, she thought in a sudden surge of recklessness. It was time to do something outrageous, time to live life like the old Taylor. After all, she was on vacation.

The Italian woman gave a magnificent roar of laughter, propping herself up on her elbows and giving her mane of hair a shake. Taylor lay back and closed her eyes. How Bennett would have hated the very idea of women sitting topless on a beach, though that wouldn’t have stopped him from leering. And the very idea of Taylor doing anything so brazen, well, it would have given him a stroke.

A rush of daring whisked through her. Taylor’s eyes opened and a slow smile spread across her face. Why shouldn’t she? It wasn’t as if anyone knew her here. She was thousands of miles from home. Going topless here was hardly outré—it was accepted. And wouldn’t it feel marvelous, she thought as the sun soaked into her bones. Wouldn’t it be amazing to be so free?

Before she could change her mind, she sat up and reached back to unhook her bikini top, shrugging so that the shoulder straps fell down to dangle against her arms. She took a deep breath, for courage. And then it was off and her breasts were swaying free.

The skies didn’t part with lightning to strike her. The nattily attired resort security guard didn’t swoop down in agitation. Basically, no one noticed.

Except her.

It was the breeze that surprised her most of all, the feel of air whispering lightly over skin unaccustomed to its touch. She felt wonderfully decadent and yet somehow at ease. The sun was like a warm kiss, making her laugh even as she resisted the urge to glance down to see if her nipples were hard. No one would notice if they were, she reminded herself, there were plenty of others around to look at. Closing her eyes, she lay back and basked in the heat.

Moments later, visions of sunburn and melanoma chasing through her head, she groped for the bottle of sunblock. Skin that hadn’t seen the sun since she’d been a toddler—if even then—needed all the protection it could get. Leaning back on one elbow, she used the other hand to rub the lotion into her breast. She wouldn’t feel bashful about touching herself, she told herself sternly. It was skin like any other on her body. She just needed to protect it, that was all. And yet the feel of her lotion-slicked palm rubbing over her nipple sent a surprising jolt through her system, making her yearn for more.

Now there was a sad statement on her nonexistent love live, if just putting sunblock on her breasts could turn her on. Of course, there really hadn’t been anyone since Bennett. She’d focused on everything but her needs for far too long, Taylor realized suddenly.

Closing her eyes and settling back, she relaxed. What a person could do with a lover in the tropics. The sunlight shone red-orange through her lids. How would it be to have a man’s hand stroking the sunblock on her body slowly, teasingly, the delicious friction of skin against skin bringing her to arousal? Her imagination painted them naked on a deserted beach, immersed in the feel of each other’s bodies. Alone but for sun and sand, they reached for abandonment and beyond. His hand slid down over her breasts, across her belly, touching her the way she hadn’t been touched in so long. The caress moved to her hips, up her thighs, slipping into the slick—

“Careful you don’t get burned there. That skin’s awfully pale,” said a voice.

A male voice. A voice that was vaguely familiar, she thought with the first glimmer of uneasiness. The red haze of the sun on her eyelids had darkened, as though someone were casting a shadow over her. She opened her eyes.

And saw Dev Carson grinning down at her.

2

EMBARRASSMENT, COMPLETE, paralyzing embarrassment. No, it was worse than embarrassment, worse than mortification. Words didn’t exist for how she felt just then.

“You’d better try some more sunblock on your face. It’s looking pretty red,” he said, not even trying to cover up the amusement in his voice. Oh, no, he was enjoying his moment fully.

It was a good thing one of them was.

Taylor reached out for her bikini top, her sarong, anything to cover up her bare breasts from his all-too-knowing eyes.

“Looking for this?” He held out her bikini top and grinned. “I don’t know, pale skin like yours, you really ought to be more careful of the sun.”

She refused to make a grab for the top. Instead she flipped over to lie on her stomach, her face flaming. What was he doing here? she thought wildly. According to the papers she’d seen, he should have been back in Baltimore long since. Maybe if she pretended she couldn’t see him, he’d go away. Except that she hadn’t put any sunblock on her back and already she could feel the sun’s heat soaking in.

And he showed no signs of leaving. Instead he crouched down by her lounger, treating her to an up close view of a truly amazing set of six-pack abs. What she could see of the rest of him looked even better. Great, she was half-naked in front of a stranger and here she was salivating over the way his biceps flowed up into the smooth spheres of his shoulders. Half of her, anyway. The other half was hoping for the sand to open up and swallow her.

Relax, Taylor, she told herself. Humiliation was rarely fatal, and if Mr. Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love was having a bit of fun at her expense, he probably thought she had it coming. Play it cool, that was the thing to do. The beach was full of beautiful women. When the entertainment value wore off, he’d probably go about his business. “I see you decided to take my advice, Mr. Carson, and have a vacation,” she said, trying for her dry, customer relations voice, resisting the urge to ask what the hell he was still doing there.

As though he’d read her mind, he gave a slight smile. “Glynnis sweet-talked the tour company into giving me an extra week since it was only one person. You know, extenuating circumstances and all. I figured lying on the beach for a while and enjoying the—” he paused and looked her over “—scenery would be good for me.”

“And has it been?”

His grin widened. “Ask me in a little while.”

“SO YOU CAME DOWN ALONE?”

Dev nodded. “That’s why I was so pleased to see you here.” Pleased didn’t begin to cover it. When he’d first seen her walk onto the beach, long and lovely in her copper-colored sarong, he’d thought he was seeing things. Back in Baltimore, still sporting fresh wounds to his pride, he’d been irritated by her cool attitude, frustrated by the news that his insurance was next to useless, and furious that she was willing to do little or nothing to help resolve the situation. But through it all, he hadn’t been able to entirely ignore that swing of blond hair, those dark eyes, that hint of a dip in her lower lip that made that wide, tempting mouth look like she was perpetually prepared to kiss someone.

And she’d stayed on his mind.

She’d mentioned a business trip to the Caribbean, he’d remembered. Somehow, finding her sprawled on the beach had made him pretty certain that she was finishing up with a vacation of her own. As for Dev, he’d come south with one objective in mind: to find a pretty señorita to drive all memories of his failed engagement out of his mind. And if that señorita proved to be a gringo who’d refused to give him a refund, it would be all the sweeter. He’d watched her untie her sarong and wondered how she would undress for a lover. He’d seen her spread on the sunscreen and wondered how it would feel to touch her smooth skin.

And then she’d stripped off her top and his tongue had just about fallen out of his mouth. Paradoxically, some vestige of the gentleman in him had kept him focusing on her face, not her breasts, even when he’d approached. He didn’t need to cop a sly peek. He knew he’d be able to look at his leisure, and soon.

He’d already decided he was going to seduce her.

Part of him was shaking his head wryly that the one woman who wouldn’t get out of his head right now was the same woman who’d gotten under his skin in Baltimore. Then again, if it hadn’t been for her refusal, he wouldn’t be here on vacation. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still just a bit annoyed.

Now he looked at the downy hairs at the small of her back, on skin pinkening in the tropical sun. “You’re going to get yourself a burn there if you don’t get some sunscreen on. I’ll help if you like.” He picked up the bottle, bouncing it lightly against his hand to shake the lotion down.

Taylor gave him a withering look. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“You don’t want to get burned the first day.”

She pushed her dark glasses up on her nose, taking another look at him as she did. He looked like some island native, with his skin darkened to bronze, a string of shells tied around his neck. His sun-streaked hair hung nearly to his shoulders and clearly hadn’t seen a comb in days, nor had the stubble that darkened his chin seen a razor. The only jarring note was struck by his eyes, that sea-green that glowed all the brighter against his tan. Eyes that watched her with the lively pleasure of a cat watching a mouse it was toying with.

His teeth gleamed in a smile. “I suppose you could move your lounger into the shade. I’ll help you if you want to get up.” He gave her a guileless look.

It sent her blood to simmer. “Mr. Carson,” she began.

“Dev,” he corrected her.

“Dev. I’m sure you have other things to do today.” Besides heckling me.

“I’m on vacation,” he said lightly. “I don’t have any plans at all.”

“Well good,” she said thinly. “I’m sure that will be fun for you. And while you’re doing that, I’m going into the water. Can you please hand me my top?” she asked with the studied aplomb she used for problem clients.

“Sure.”

This was it, Taylor told herself with a swallow. The moment of truth. Then she heard the Italian woman laugh and she raised her chin a fraction. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself by trying to wriggle into the top without showing anything. She wasn’t going to hide out like some bashful girl. Dammit, they were just breasts, and he’d already gotten an eyeful. Taylor pushed herself abruptly into a sitting position.

But Dev had already turned away to watch the dive boat come in to the dock that snaked out from the beach. “Are you going diving while you’re here?”

“No,” Taylor said shortly, fumbling to untangle her bikini top and slide her arms through the shoulder straps.

“Those reefs are about the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” he said reflectively. “Like underwater palaces.”

“My idea of vacation is lying on the beach and doing absolutely nothing.”

With impeccable timing that she suddenly knew was entirely calculated, Dev turned back to her just as she got her top in place. It was impossible not to like him for it.

“Have you been to this area before?” he asked.

“Nope, this is my first time.”

“Then you’ve got to get out to see the reefs, at least once. Don’t you want to be able to tell your clients about it?”

“I’ll show them pictures.” Taylor stood up. “You can keep your crack-of-dawn scuba trips. I’ll settle for sleeping in.”

“Let me know if I can help.”

She almost gave a snort of laughter before she caught herself. “Thanks but no thanks. I’ll see you around. I’m going into the water.”

Dev rose and sat on the edge of a nearby lounger. “You go right ahead.” He looked her up and down and his grin widened. “I’ll just sit here and enjoy the view.”

Taylor walked down to the water, excruciatingly aware of the swing of her arms, every sway of her hips. Excruciatingly aware of Dev’s eyes on her. She was being silly, she chided herself. He’d harassed her, had his laugh. With all the bare breasts around, he had to have lost interest in her. Still, she could feel two spots burning on the scrap of fabric that stretched over her haunches. Just her imagination, she told herself firmly, she’d look back and he’d be gone. As she stepped onto the damp, firm-packed sand by the water, she glanced over her shoulder toward her palapa. And saw Dev raise a hand lazily, his white smile glittering even from this distance.

Taylor flushed and stepped into the wash of foam.

SHE HAD DIED AND GONE TO heaven. That was simply all there was to it. Tropical sea, an aqua so pale it was luminous, stretched around her. She sank down in the water and looked along the shore to where the pastel wavelets met the periwinkle sky. No wonder everyone dressed in such bright colors in the tropics, they were trying to keep up with the exuberant background.

The gentle nudge of the foot high swells cradled her body. Even though she’d gone past the end of the dive dock to the string of cork floaters that marked the edge of the swim area, she was only chest deep in the warm water, her feet still touching ground. Bright-colored fish whisked along, past the occasional trail of seaweed. The water was clear enough that she could see the shadow patterns of the surface ripples waving on the bottom, could see the vivid red of her toenail polish against the white sand.

Taylor turned lightly to look at the gleaming beach that ran along the coast to where it curved out of sight. The graceful curves of coconut palm fronds swayed over the golden sand, dotted among the thatched palapas.

It was paradise.

Almost paradise, she corrected herself. Except for Dev Carson. Maybe if she spent a dozen years around him, she might stop turning red every time she saw him. It probably wouldn’t happen anytime soon, though.

She scowled at the tiny figures on the shore. Maybe he’d tired of teasing her by now and would leave her in peace. She thought of the spark of mischief in those green eyes and shook her head. She should be so lucky.

Diving under the water like a seal, she came up with her hair wet and slicked back. It was a shame. The more she thought about the idea of cutting loose for a totally meaningless and completely decadent vacation fling, the more it appealed to her. If Dev Carson had been just another guest at the resort, she’d have given very serious thought to jumping his bones. Granted, her bones-jumping skills were rusty, but there had been a time when she’d been able to reel in any man she set her cap for. She still had the equipment, she had no doubt she could do it again. She just needed to get back the mindset.

Somehow, though, none of the other men she’d seen around the resort had made quite the impression on her that Dev did. If only he weren’t focused on their little contretemps.

Taylor rolled over to float lazily on her back, staring at the small white puffs of cloud in the sky overhead. She couldn’t do anything more about the situation than she already had. Ignore him and relax, that was the thing to do. This was her long overdue vacation. No way was she going to waste another precious minute of it worrying about work-related stuff. For the next seven days, duty and responsibility didn’t exist. Indulging herself was the only rule.

That, and finding herself a decadent summer lover.

DUSK WAS PURPLING TO evening as Taylor strolled up the winding jungle trail that led from her room to the restaurant. Stone lanterns dotting the side of the path cast a soft, peach glow over the flagstones, illuminating the nodding blossoms on plantings by the trail. Out in the dim space under the trees, a bird whistled softly. The skirt of her hot pink minidress swished against her thighs. With every step, she felt the years slough away, bringing her closer to the carefree, happy-go-lucky chance-taker she had once been.

She’d begun to relax fractionally that afternoon after she returned to her lounger to find Dev Carson nowhere in sight. The little prick of disappointment she’d felt, she’d suppressed ruthlessly. No mixing business and pleasure, she told herself sternly. Having a fling would be wonderful. Having a fling with Dev Carson would be the dumbest thing she could do.

But he was gone, and hopefully that was the end of it. She ignored the tiny voice in her head—miniscule, really—that whined about the rarity of six-pack abs. He was gone and she was glad. Now she could relax and take it easy. After all, in a resort of nearly a thousand people, she might go days without seeing him again.

But she’d kept her top on the rest of the afternoon, just in case.

The path leveled and broadened and changed into polished golden terrazzo that led along the edge of the open-air restaurant. In a region where the air was warm and silky, even in winter, walls were superfluous. The only thing necessary was the thatched roof that hung down at the edges and soared to a peak in the center, blocking out the occasional cloudbursts. Long ponds patrolled by orange and white koi separated the walkway from the dining area, where a fringe of dried palm fronds overhung the edge of the roof. One side of the restaurant looked out on a broad waterfall that cascaded over rocks, the chatter of the droplets soothing in her ears.

Taylor walked up to the hostess stand at the entrance. “Hola, señorita,” smiled a compact, dark-eyed man, with a badge that said Raoul. “You wish for dinner?” he asked.

“Si, gracias,” Taylor replied. “Un asiento, por favor.”

“Ah.” His eyes lit. “Habla Español?”

Taylor laughed and held her forefinger and thumb half an inch apart. “Un poquito, un poquito,” she said, shaking her hand ruefully.

Raoul picked up a menu and led her to the side of the restaurant near the waterfall where a stream of droplets fell musically into the catch basin. The paddles of overhead fans stirred the air. Candles flickered on the tables and soft Latin guitar played over the sound system. It was exquisite. She wouldn’t have changed a thing.

Except for the fact that the table Raoul was leading her toward was already occupied by Dev Carson.

He stood up as Raoul stopped at the table, and pulled out a chair for her. “Gracias, amigo,” he said, nodding to Raoul.

“De nada,” Raoul murmured with a wink and disappeared.

Taylor looked at Dev and he looked steadily back. Behind him, the drops of the backlit waterfall chattered. His tan was dark against the white linen of his shirt. His eyes glimmered with something like anticipation, and had something in her stomach chittering like the waterfall.

“Hot-pink suits you.”

Taylor took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting her system steady. “Mr. Carson,” she began.

“Dev,” he corrected.

“So you keep telling me. Look, I know you weren’t happy with the way things worked out at the travel agency, and I sympathize with that. I sympathize with the fact that you might still be annoyed. But I’m on vacation. You made your point this afternoon. I’d be happy to listen to anything else you have to say—next week, in my office. While I’m here, I’m off the clock. Buenos noches.” She moved to turn away.

He took a step and was at her side. “Don’t go. Have dinner with me.”

She blinked at him.

“Just dinner. I’m not going to give you a bad time. I swear,” he said, holding up his hands, palms toward her. “Baltimore never happened. Pffffttt.” At her suspicious look, he went back to his seat. “Look, I’ve been down here for three weeks. I’ve gotten certified for scuba and dived half a dozen reefs, some of them twice. I’ve parasailed. I’ve been to see the ruins. I’ve taken a catamaran around the island. I’ve made friends with all the staff. It would be nice for a change to talk to someone who wasn’t paid to be friendly to me.”

A quick frisson of sympathy whisked through her. Taylor sat down slowly. “Somehow, I have a feeling that the only time you dine alone is when you want to.”

“I haven’t exactly been in the mood for company, at least I wasn’t at first. I’ve been…mellowing over the past week,” he decided.

Somehow, mellow wouldn’t have been the word she would have chosen. True, he lounged in the chair across from her, but it was with the watchful indolence of some beast that could spring on its prey without warning. And she had the uneasy feeling that despite his assurances, his prey just might be her.

The waiter stopped by to take their drink orders. Dev eyed her as she asked for a beer. “You’re in Mexico,” he said. “Why not a shot of tequila?”

She looked at him for a moment. Six-pack abs, the voice whispered. “Why not? A shot please,” she asked the waiter.

“Herradura, por favor,” Dev added, “y dos cervezas.”

“What’s Herradura?” Taylor asked suspiciously as the waiter left.

“Top quality tequila, the kind that you don’t need salt and a lime to get down. You can sip this stuff,” he added, nodding at the bottle that the waiter was bringing their way.

“A connoisseur?” she asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged. “Three weeks in Mexico will teach you a thing or two if you’re prepared to listen instead of talk.”

Somehow she could see that about him, a certain quiet watchfulness that absorbed the world around him. The waiter set the shot glasses on the table and poured the amber liquid, then nodded and left.

Dev picked up his glass. “Here’s to vacations.”

“To vacations,” she echoed and took a sip of the tequila. To her surprise, it flowed down smooth and warm, though with a fiendish little kick at the end. Savoring the flavor, she glanced up to see Dev watching her.

“Like it?”

She nodded, taking another sip. “I’m surprised. In college we always did the whole salt and lime routine. I thought you had to.”

“Only with cheap rotgut tequila. The salt and lime is just to cover up the taste. The good stuff like this is made for sipping,” he said, demonstrating.

“Mmm. Could be dangerous. A sip here, a sip there, and the next thing you know you’re hammered and dancing on the tables.”

His eyes lit with interest. “Now that I’d like to see.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” she laughed.

“So what if you dance on the tables? Isn’t that what vacations are for? No one knows you here.”

“Except you.”

“I’ll never tell. This is time-out from the real world, you can do whatever you like. And, you know, if what you’d like is to dance on the tables, I’m all in support of that.”

“You’re so generous.”

“Aren’t I, though,” he said modestly. “So if you’re not going to dance on the tables, what are you going to do?”

She moved her glass meditatively in a little circle on the table. “I don’t know, probably as little as possible. I haven’t had a break in almost five years. I keep catching myself starting to think about work and I have to remind myself to let it go.”

“It takes a couple of days, at least it did for me. Especially if you’re down here with no distractions.”

“When was the last time you had a vacation?”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever really had one,” he said thoughtfully. “Not like this, anyway.”

“Relaxation makes you live longer.”

“So does being able to afford groceries.” He shrugged. “I’ve mostly been running my own business for the past ten years. It takes over your life. I’m sure you can relate.”

“What do you do?”

“Ah, ah, ah.” He shook his finger at her. “Baltimore doesn’t exist, remember? No talking about the real world and definitely no talking about work.” His eyes lingered on her as the waiter set their beers on the table. Dev reached out to take his glass, held it up. “Here’s to being off the clock.”

The clink of glass rang in the warm evening air.

“So you said you’re going to do as little as possible. What does that mean?”

She shrugged. “Lie on the beach, sleep in, read books.” She didn’t figure adding wild sex to that list would be wise, although she was suddenly certain he’d be happy to volunteer. And as the tequila flowed through her veins, she was beginning to think it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. In fact, if his current mood held, Dev Carson might be just what the doctor ordered. “I figure I’ll just relax for a week. Maybe dance a little, flirt a little. I’m on vacation, after all.”

“So you are. Well, it is an all-inclusive resort. I think flirtations are part of the list of services. Did I mention,” he asked casually, “that Raoul considers me an honorary local?”

She looked at him consideringly. “Can I take that to mean you’re offering to be of service?”

He sat up and leaned forward. “Oh, service is the name of my game, Ms. DeWitt. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

It was ridiculous to start a flirtation with someone from home, she thought. Baltimore doesn’t exist, the words played through her head. Isn’t that what vacations are for? Maybe. And maybe it was time to let the old Taylor come out to play.

HE’D NEVER SEEN A WOMAN GO into ecstasy over mango cheesecake before, Dev reflected as he watched Taylor eat her dessert. Her tongue flicked out to catch a crumb of crust, and his pulse bumped for a moment.

It had been doing that a lot in the past couple of hours.

Dev Carson considered himself smart, tough, ambitious and focused. When he decided to go after something—or someone—he was usually successful. What he wanted, he got.

And he wanted Taylor DeWitt in the worst way. At first, it had been a game: embarrass her a little, have some fun flirting. Somehow over the course of the day and evening, she’d become an unendurable temptation, a prospect of pleasure that drummed through his mind.

Watching her eat had been a revelation. Unlike most women, she didn’t pick at her food but dug in with enthusiasm and little hums of satisfaction. She sampled every exotic dish offered at the show-cooking buffet, experiencing it with an exquisite pleasure that had him imagining what she would look like in the throes of orgasm. After he’d taken her there.

Taylor pushed her plate away. “That was fabulous.”

“You looked like you were enjoying it.”

“Especially since someone else is doing the cooking and cleaning. But I’m stuffed. If I don’t move soon, you’re going to have to carry me to my room.”

Now that was a prospect with some possibilities, he thought. “Just say the word.”

Taylor laughed. “I think I can walk for now, I just need to be encouraged a bit.”

Dev rose and held out his hand. “I can help with that.”

The sultry strains of Latin music floated into the night sky as they approached the open-air theater area. Soft light filtered down onto the dance floor, where couples swayed to the slow, hypnotic beat from the band.

Dev took her hand. “Dance with me?”

Taylor lifted a brow. “Fred, I thought you’d never ask.”

“You laugh, but prepare to be amazed and humbled.”

“Another one of the things you’ve picked up since you’ve been here?”

“I like to consider myself a multifaceted individual.”

He led her down the steps and onto the polished wood floor. Taylor looked at the couples nestled together. Anticipation sent a sharp thrill through her, then he swept her in toward him, unexpectedly close.

She’d expected the classic clinch and shuffle of the high school slow dance, but he surprised her, capturing one of her hands in his and pressing his other against the small of her back. The heat spread through the thin silk of her dress, making her catch her breath.

Making her melt against him.

“I don’t know how to dance like this,” she said unsteadily, clutching at his shoulder with her free hand. His hard, rounded shoulder. “I only ever learned to shuffle around.”

“It’s a rumba,” he murmured in her ear, “a standard box step. Just hold on and follow me.”

The guitar moaned low and soft over the clicking tropical rhythm of a hollow woodblock. An exotic woman dressed in fiery red stepped up to the microphone and began to croon in Spanish, a passionate tale of what Taylor figured was no doubt doomed lovers.

Moving in time with Dev’s body was immensely seductive. She felt the muscles of his thighs flex against hers. She looked up and found her gaze snared by his, the green shadowed in the dim lighting. He brought their clasped hands in close to their bodies, pressing her against him. The call of the guitar drifted up into the sky.

THEY STROLLED DOWN the shadowed path that wound through the jungle toward the beach. Dev tangled his fingers with Taylor’s. “I couldn’t believe it when I first got down here,” he murmured. “I thought I’d walked into another world. Home was gone.” It hadn’t been quite as easy as that, if he was honest. It had taken days in the hot sun, hours of swimming with the schools of bright fish in the tranquil blue depths of the reefs to erase the memory of finding his fiancée with another man. No matter that he’d known deep down they were a bad match, the betrayal had scored his pride. To smooth it over, he’d flirted with a couple of the beach babes but something had felt wrong each time. Each time, he’d ducked out with a simple kiss good-night.

Somehow, he didn’t see himself doing that with Taylor.

They followed the trail out of the lush plantings to circle around the edge of the pool, now glowing pale turquoise. At this hour, the area was deserted, the guests all up at the theater area dancing and watching the show. They had the beach to themselves.

A vivid red hibiscus blossom, fallen from its bush, lay on the pavement. Dev stopped to pick it up. Turning to Taylor, he tucked it behind her ear. “Now you look like an island girl.”

“You’re the one who looks like an islander, with that tan and the batik and the shells…”

He fingered them. “The clerk at the hotel store threw them in when I bought my trunks.”

“I don’t have to ask if she was a she,” Taylor said dryly.

“She was indeed, and also about sixteen. Not my style.”

“You’re not into giggling Mark Anthony fans?”

“I’m not into girls.” His eyes darkened. “I’m more interested in women.”

Taylor swallowed and the silence stretched out for a beat, then two. In the darkness, the crude stone heads of the showers had a brooding, almost menacing cast, like vengeful gods come down to earth. Beyond, Dev could hear the hiss of the waves. He reached out and caught her hand again. “Let’s go out by the water.”

The moonlit beach was dotted with the shadowed bulk of palms. They slipped off their shoes and stepped onto the sand. Away from people and noise, Taylor could hear the small rustles of the night creatures going about their business. To one side, a crab scuttled into a stand of mangrove. And the waves grew louder.

Dev led her past the palm trees and onto the dock. Their feet made hollow thumps as they walked along the creosote coated planks. Thick ropes swung from squat posts, making only a passing pretense at security. It didn’t matter, really; in such shallow, warm water, a person falling in could hardly get hurt. Out on the end of the dock, a red light atop a tall post winked out to sea.

The water stretched away from them black and fathomless. Far in the distance, on the coast of the mainland, a few lights glimmered. Above them, stars painted their patterns on a midnight velvet sky.

Dev looked up at them. “The stars are different down here, have you noticed?” Somehow, that had been the thing that had finally allowed him to let go the frustration and betrayal, that sense of being somewhere different. He’d come out to the dock at night a lot those first weeks. Gradually, the peace had seeped into his soul. “That was the first thing I looked for down here, the Southern Cross.” He pointed. “You can barely see it on the horizon.”

Taylor stepped close to him and he felt the soft swell of her breasts brush against his arm. “Where?”

He moved so that she was in front of him and pointed over one of her shoulders so she could sight along his finger. “There, there, and…there.”

“Do you know any other constellations?”

“I was pretty into it when I was a kid.” It had been a good excuse to get out of the house and away from the fighting. “There’s Sagittarius and Scorpio,” he said, pointing them out. Taylor’s hair brushed against his arm, silky and light.

“How come all of the constellations are always critters?”

“They’re not. You’ve got Perseus and Orion, they were warriors, and Cassiopiea, she was a seer.”

“Always alone, though. Don’t you think all those lonely shepherds that named the original constellations would have seen lovers somewhere?”

“Sure. They just didn’t make it into the astronomy books.”

She leaned back against him and he wrapped his arms around her. “I like the idea of lovers painted on the sky.”

“How about earthbound lovers?” He nuzzled her hair, breathing in her scent.

Taylor turned in his arms. In her eyes, he read promise, challenge and mischief. Then she pressed her mouth to his. It jolted through him down to his toes. He made himself concentrate on the soft, nibbling temptation, holding back from letting his hands rove over her body, that sleek, alluring frame. He could taste the faint sweetness of the margarita she’d had at the theater.

Then she stepped away. “How about lovers in the water?” she asked, dropping her shoes.

Exhilaration tore through him. “You don’t have a suit,” he pointed out.

“Mmm, you’re right, and I’d hate to ruin this nice dress.” She reached down and pulled the pink silk up, sliding it off over her head.

Underneath, she wore nothing.

His mouth went dry. Her skin glowed pale and lovely in the moonlight, rounded breasts tipped with the darker shadows of her aureole. Before he could look his fill, she turned and walked to the edge of the dock.

“I think you’re running behind, Mr. Carson. You’d better catch up,” she said, flashing a look at him over her shoulder.

And dove into the water.

3

THE SALTWATER CLOSED AROUND her body and slid against her skin, warm as an embrace. Like a sea creature, she arrowed through the water, feeling a rush of illicit arousal at the brush of liquid against her bare nipples, her bare behind. She burst up through the surface laughing at her own audacity.

And blinked. The dock was empty in the moonlight. Taylor gave a quick glance around, raking her fingers through her wet hair. He was here somewhere, she knew. A man like Dev Carson didn’t walk away from a challenge. She felt the thrill of expectation.

Then the water next to her exploded and she jumped and whirled to see him rearing out of the water.

She put a hand to her chest, suddenly intensely aware of her bare breasts above the waterline. “You just took ten years off my life, you know.”

“Did you think I was a sea monster?”

Actually, with the water streaming from his shoulders and his hair soaked and disheveled, she thought he looked more like some kind of a sea god. A surge of anticipation ran through her as he moved nearer. “You can never tell what’s swimming around,” she said, then blinked as he disappeared. Seconds ticked by, then she jumped at the feeling of a slippery hand sliding down her back.

He surfaced a few feet away. “Well, you know, you’re taking your chances, swimming at night. You never know what’s going to decide to take a bite out of you.” He stepped closer and a little shiver of anticipation ran through her.

“I know. Something just fondled me,” she said.

“Those damned fish are getting more forward all the time.”

“Maybe it wasn’t a fish. Maybe it was some other kind of critter.”

“All the more reason you should stay close so I can protect you. I’ll keep an eye out for the bad guys.”

“You must have good night vision.” She swayed lightly in the soft pressure of a swell.

“I eat lots of carrots.”

“Planning ahead?”

“It never hurts to be prepared.”

“Were you a Boy Scout?”

He laughed, a low, rough sound in the dark. “No, I hung with a more disreputable crowd.”

It had her pulse thumping. “Maybe I should go in, then. A young lady’s known by the company she keeps.”

His teeth gleamed in the dim lighting. “Did you learn that from your mama?”

“From cotillion, thank you very much.”

“Somehow you don’t seem like the type to get too caught up in rules. After all, the signs say no skinny dipping.”

“I wanted to go swimming,” she said with dignity.

“Without a suit?”

“I’m impatient.” Somehow, she was breathless, even though she hadn’t moved.

“So am I.” His eyes were shadowed. The moonlight had leached the color out so that they just seemed to glow silver.

“What are you impatient for?”

He skimmed a hand across the water between them and stepped a bit closer. “You.”

Taylor stared at him, watched him come near. Then she whipped out of the way, swimming past him so that she brushed his legs. His fingers started to close around her ankle, but she whisked past. When she felt him stroking after her, she abruptly reversed direction in a flip turn and surfaced, breathing hard.

Dev came out of the water a few feet away from her. “Playing cat and mouse?”

“Or shark and angelfish.”

“Are you calling me an angel?” His eyes laughed at her, then he shook his head so that drops of water scattered around them.

“Somehow, you remind me more of a devil.” This time when she ducked under the water, she brushed a hand down his ass, just to feel if it was as marble hard as the rest of him before she flicked away. Lightning fast, he turned and managed to stroke her leg as she flowed past and up to the surface.

“Careful when you go grabbing like that, darlin’,” he said when he’d followed her. “You might get hold of something I’ll need later.”

She laughed. “I don’t know, if I were you, I’d worry more about some hungry little fishy thinking it’s a big fat ol’ worm dangling there and taking himself a nibble.”

His teeth gleamed white in a smile that suddenly reminded her of the shark she’d mentioned. “It’s not dangling like a worm right now.”

Taylor ducked back under the water, this time stroking a hand over his belly—oh, those rock-hard abs—as she passed. She was just one beat too slow, though. His hand slid down the length of her back, curving over the taut muscle of her ass. Swiftly it tightened around her ankle, pulling her back toward him.

When his hand slid up over her bare breast, Taylor jolted and reared her head up out of the water, gasping. It felt outrageous. It felt provocative.

It felt right.

Suddenly the mood of play was gone. She let her feet touch the bottom, swaying lightly in the water. Given that it had been years since she’d had sex with anyone but herself in the room, the idea of a man touching her was exciting and more than a little frightening.

The reality of it was simply exciting, period.

Dev’s face tightened and he stepped forward, pulling her against him.

Heat on heat, mouth on mouth, the stroke of hands sending sensation rocketing through her body. Taylor shuddered. God, it had been so long since it had been like this, maybe even never. Surely she’d have remembered this kind of kaleidoscopic physical rush sweeping her along into madness, she thought as Dev crushed her mouth under his. Rough stubble scraped against her skin. Tantalizing, it failed to satisfy but only made her want more.

She clutched at his shoulders. Buoyed by the water, she wrapped her legs around his waist. The smooth, hard heat of his belly tormented her. She wanted him in her, hard and against her. This had nothing to do with tequila or vacation, it had to do with a wanting that went deep into her bones.

Waves slapped softly at the pilings of the dive dock. The palapa fronds rustled in the wind. The brush of hand on skin was slick and silent, the shudders silent and swift.

Dev groaned at the feel of Taylor’s breasts filling his hands, her sleek, soft legs holding him in a slippery grip. He was so hard that he was brushing up against the cleft between her buttocks, the slick touch keeping him on the edge of coming. Not yet, though, he thought. There were places he wanted to take her, things he wanted her to feel before that.

He slid his hands around her back and pulled her toward him, running his tongue tip along the impossibly soft skin of her jawline, down her throat. He’d wondered how she’d tasted. He’d thought about it all day, as they’d sat at dinner, as they’d walked down the beach in the darkness. The combination of smooth softness and sleek strength enthralled him. To have her now, filling his arms, pressed up against him, robbed him of breath, rendered him rock hard with need. He wanted to make her blind with pleasure, immersed in heat, to send her flying over the edge.

“Tell me you want this,” he muttered, running a hand down the flat of her belly.

Taylor gasped and arched against him. “I want you,” she whispered.

He filled his hands with her breasts again, feeling the soft give and the hard tips against his palms. Unable to hold back, he lowered his head to take her nipple into his mouth. The feel of the rough nub against his tongue sent sudden, sharp arousal jolting through him. His fingers slid lower, passing curls of hair to find her wet in a way that had nothing to do with water. Knowing she was right there, accessible, threatened his control, but didn’t break it. Though he ached to drive his cock into her, he held back. Instead he found the hard, tight bud of her clit.

Taylor jolted in shock at the hands of another on that most sensitive of spots. The slight calluses on the ends of his fingers teased a thousand nerve endings with slippery friction. She strained against him with a moan, as the tension coiled in her. His fingers tormented, then teased, then stroked rhythmically, leaving her helpless to do anything but feel.

Pumping her hips to accentuate his touch, she moved against the maddening strokes. His hand tightened on her breast, squeezing the nipple and she climaxed in a rush of sensation that exploded through every cell, crying out and gasping with the intensity, her body bucking helplessly against him.

Taylor clung to him as the shudders ebbed slowly away. Then her eyes met his, and the desire flared up again, hot and immediate. She pulled his head down to hers for a fierce, fast kiss, running her hands down the taut, corrugated muscles of his belly, feeling them raise up against her fingertips. “I think we need to do something to equalize things.” She slid off of him to stand on legs that were still trembling. Reaching out, she wrapped her fingers around his erection, but he stilled her hand.

“I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go back to my room.”

She nipped his lips. “For a bed?”

He wrapped his hand around her neck and pulled her close for a hard kiss. “For a condom.”

THE DOOR SLAMMED BEHIND THEM and Dev pressed Taylor against the wall, feeling the soft spring of her muscles against him.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he muttered distractedly. “I want you naked and I want to be in you.”

“Mmm.” She kissed him, and reached down for the hem of her dress. “Then maybe we’d better stop wasting time.” She pulled it over her head and dropped it in a pool of pink silk on the tile floor.

Dev slid his hands down the smooth curves of her waist, brushing over her backside for a heady instant before he moved his hands up into her hair and kissed her hard, feeling the soft strands spilling over his fingers. Then he pressed her back to the wall, holding her in place as he knelt down and tormented her with his mouth and tongue.

She writhed against him until he could feel how wet she was, taste how close she was to the edge. And he stopped, wanting, needing to see her face this time in the light, to watch her flush as her orgasm moved through her.

When he stood, it was her hands that tugged feverishly at the drawstring on his pants. When he pushed the cloth down, it was her hands that searched him out where he was heavy and hard, jerking just a little with the force of his arousal. And when he stepped forward, it was her hands that guided him inside, her moans that filled the room when his own voice failed and all he could do was gasp at the tight, hot miracle of her body clenched around him.

RED-GOLD LIGHT STAINED Dev’s eyelids. He moved to roll away from it, to burrow back down into sleep, but he couldn’t move. His arm was numb, held down by a solid weight.

A weight of warm, soft female flesh.

He gathered the bundle against him even as he rose into consciousness, a consciousness laced with sensory snapshots—the maddening moments before they’d reached his room…the yielding heat of her naked body against his…the hot, slick rush as he slid himself into her…the molten explosion of his orgasm into her still shuddering body. And all the times they repeated it in the hours that followed.

Dev pressed a kiss on the tousle of blond hair and Taylor grumbled once in slumber.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “You can go back to sleep, just let me get my arm out.” It felt more like a chunk of wood than an arm, but he moved it nonetheless. Enduring its wake-up promised to be excruciating.

Taylor rolled away from him and burrowed back into the pillow, the sheet falling away from her to reveal an enticingly angular back. Dev looked at it speculatively, but then tingling in his fingertips warned him that the fun was just beginning. Minutes ticked by while he suffered through pins and needles, focusing on the curves of her body in an effort to distract himself.

He shifted onto his side to stare at Taylor in the dim light of the room and stroked a hand down her back, savoring the way it sloped down and then rose in a tight curve.

She rolled onto her stomach and turned her face to him, squinting at him through her mop of hair. “It can’t possibly be morning. What time is it?”

“You’re in Neverland, darlin’, there are no clocks. Close your eyes and go back to sleep.”

Tempting though the prospect was, it wasn’t nearly that easy. She was in the bed of a person she hardly knew after a one-night stand. A memorable one-night stand, but a one-night stand nevertheless. It had been a long time, but as she recalled, the drill was to wake up and leave as soon as possible. Groaning, she pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the unaccustomed soreness between her thighs. They’d used each other hard and relentlessly, she remembered, stretching in a pleasurable satisfaction.

She yawned. “Give me just a minute and I’ll get out of your hair.” The next second she was squawking as Dev pulled her back to tumble against him in a welter of sheets and pillows.

“Who said I wanted you to?” He scooped her in to spoon against him, his chest warm against her back, his thighs strong and solid underneath hers.

“Well, I just figured this was…” Her voice trailed off as she felt his tongue trace the line of her shoulder.

“This was what?” Dev murmured in her ear. His hand slid over to one of her breasts, brushing the fragile skin and squeezing the nipple.

“A one-night stand,” she managed. “A fling.”

He bit her earlobe lightly. “A fling, certainly. But I never recall any discussion of a time limit.” His other hand slid down between her thighs to find where she was already slippery. “We’ve got the whole rest of the week. I was hoping to talk you into something a little more leisurely. I’ve definitely got no interest in letting you walk away this morning.”

She could feel him hardening against her bottom. “I just don’t…” His fingers moved against her, forcing a moan from her.

“You don’t think you could walk out of here this morning without coming at least once? Smart girl,” he said approvingly.

Clever and slick, his fingers slid against her clit. The bolts of sensation had her moving her hips helplessly. Reaching back, Taylor pulled his face toward hers. His mouth. She wanted his mouth, then his cock, as deep as he could go. “I need you in me,” she whispered against his lips.

“Always happy to oblige a lady,” he returned, shifting so that she was beneath him.

“CAN YOU JUST CARRY ME to the beach?” Dev groaned.

“You were the one who had the big idea about round two,” Taylor said, rolling over to prop her arms on his chest.

“I’ve always been the kind of guy who sticks with what works.”

Taylor fought to keep a straight face. “And in this case?”

“Well, round one worked, and round two worked. I think we ought to stretch it out a little more.” He stroked her back and she purred like a cat.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked, pressing little kisses on his jaw.

“We’re both here the rest of the week.” He held up her left hand and inspected it. “No tan lines. Good. You appear to be footloose and fancy free and God knows I am. I got blood tests for the wedding, so I’m healthy and clean. How about you?”

“I give blood monthly.”

“So we’re set there. What do you say?”

“About?”

“About making a week of it.”

“Sleeping together, you mean?”

He nodded. “Unless you were faking it and really didn’t have a good time. It’s perfect. No ties, no commitments, just whatever we want, whenever we want.”

“And nothing when we get home.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.

He shook his head. “Nothing when we get home. You can do anything and everything your heart desires and know you’ll never have to face me again.”

“If you agree to it, you’ve got to mean it,” Taylor warned. “No looking me up after we get home.”

He leaned in and bit her shoulder. “Not that you aren’t completely delectable, but after what I went through a couple of weeks ago, darlin’, I’m not exactly leaping out of my skin to get involved in another relationship.”

Taylor looked at him consideringly. “How’s your stamina? I’ve gone without for quite a while. Whenever I want might be pretty often. I’d hate to choose you over some of the other guys around here and find out that I’ve worn you out.”

He silenced her with his mouth. “Well, you can stop your search right here. I’m all the man you’re going to need.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He curved his hand over her breast. “I’m up to the task.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asked, her hand straying down to find that he was, indeed, up. “Oh,” she said softly, “yeah.”

“I take my vitamins,” he murmured.

“Good thing,” she whispered against his mouth. “You’re going to need them.”

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