Only a firefighter can handle this blaze...

Madison Reid’s engagement is a sham. Her movie-star fiancé is actually her childhood friend...who’s gay. When he decides he can’t keep living a lie, Madison ends things by leaking a salacious story about a hot—if fictional—affair. Now surrounded by swarms of news-hungry paparazzi, Madison escapes to the beauty of Costa Rica until things cool down....

Firefighter Leo Santori is on his honeymoon. Alone. Still torn up about losing his fiancée to another guy, Leo isn’t expecting anything from Costa Rica. That is, until Madison steps into his world, rocks it and then lights it on fire. The heat between them is undeniable—and irresistible. But when Madison’s scandalous past catches up with them, will it extinguish the flames...or will they both end up burned?

Praise for Leslie Kelly

“Leslie Kelly is a rising star of romance!”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author

Debbie Macomber

“Kelly is a top writer,

and this is another excellent book. 4 ½ stars.”

—RT Book Reviews on Play with Me

“A hip contemporary romance

packed with great one-liners! 4 ½ stars.”

—RT Book Reviews on Terms of Surrender

“One Wild Wedding Night features sexy and

fun stories with likable characters, only to

end with a sexy story that floors me with how well it resonates with me. Oh, this one is definitely wild, but even better, it also aims for the heart.”

—Mrs. Giggles

“Whoa, baby, Overexposed is hot stuff!

Ms. Kelly employs a great deal of heart and humor to achieve balance with this incendiary romance. Great characters, many of whom fans will recognize, and a vibrant narrative kept this reader glued to each and every word. Overexposed is without a doubt one of the better Blaze books

I have read to date.”

—The Romance Reader’s Connection

Dear Reader,

Although I’ve written many books for Mills & Boon Blaze, the ones readers most often ask me about are the Santori stories. Something about that big Italian family in Chicago just strikes a chord with people. I can’t tell you how often I’m asked if I ever plan to go back and show where the family is now and how everybody is doing.

I’ve thought about it for a long time—these beloved characters are never far from my thoughts. How are Lottie and Simon doing? Is he still dark and haunted? What about Izzie and Nick—any chance the stripper and the bouncer ever had kids? Believe me, I’m just as curious as some of you.

So, when I started working on a sequel to Waking Up to You, and decided I wanted the hero to be a firefighter from Chicago, I couldn’t help but think he had to be a Santori. He’s not a sibling of the first six, he’s a cousin. But believe me, I loved Leo Santori just as much as I did all those originals.

Fortunately, Leo has two brothers, too! And lots and lots of cousins.

I do hope you enjoy Leo and Madison’s story. Thank you for your constant support.

Happy reading!

Leslie Kelly

Lying in

Your Arms

Leslie Kelly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LESLIE KELLY has written dozens of books and novellas for Mills & Boon Blaze. Known for her sparkling dialogue, fun characters and steamy sensuality, she has been honored with numerous awards, including a National Reader’s Choice Award, a Colorado Award of Excellence, a Golden Quill and an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award in Series Romance. Leslie has also been nominated four times for the highest award in romance fiction, the RWA RITA® Award.

Leslie lives in Maryland with her own romantic hero, Bruce, and their daughters. Visit her online at www.lesliekelly.com or at her blog, www.plotmonkeys.com.

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To my sisters, Lynn, Donna, Karen and Cheri.

You are all always in my heart.

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

Epilogue

Prologue

The Hollywood Tattler—

Shane Going NC-17?

WELL, LADIES, GET ready to indulge in a sexy lovefest with superhot movie star Tommy Shane. Word is circulating that Shane’s fiancée, screenwriter Madison Reid, is on the verge of selling her naughtily-ever-after screenplay and her hubby-to-be is going to star in it!

Shane, who regularly lands on everyone’s sexiest men alive lists, has played action heroes, romantic leads and innocent soldiers. But my sources tell me this next role—as a mysterious, dangerous man who lures an innocent young woman into his dark sexual fantasies—will be the edgiest, hottest performance of his career.

As if women all over the world didn’t already have enough to fantasize about when it came to this golden-haired Adonis.

Soon, fantasizing will be all other women can do. Because we’re also hearing rumors that Tommy and his fiancée have finally started making wedding plans for next year. Although Shane and Reid—his childhood sweetheart—live in a swanky beachside house in Laguna, they’re heading to the other coast for the nuptial celebration. They will reportedly be having a small, private ceremony with their families in Florida, where they grew up as next-door neighbors.

Can you imagine Thomas Superstud Shane being the boy next door? Be still my heart.

We don’t know a whole lot about the beautiful Miss Reid. But we suspect millions of women around the world would give anything and everything to be in her shoes. Or at least in her bed. I mean, who doesn’t want to know just how much of her sultry screenplay is based on her real-life adventures with Tommy!

Congratulations and good luck you gorgeous lovebirds. I’ll be watching the mail for my invitation.

1

“WAIT, ARE YOU SAYING you want me to break up with you?”

Not sure she’d correctly heard the drop-dead gorgeous man sitting across from her, Madison waited for a response from Tommy Shane. Aka her fiancé, aka the handsomest man alive, aka Superstud, aka Academy Award nominee.

Aka the man who wanted her to dump him right after they’d intentionally leaked details about their hush-hush wedding.

Aka...WTF?

“Yeah, Mad. I do.”

She didn’t get angry, the way most fiancées probably would. She wasn’t the typical fiancée and theirs wasn’t a typical relationship. Not by a long shot. If they knew the truth, most people would say she and Tommy put the “dys” in dysfunctional.

So, no, she wasn’t angry. She was just confused, not sure what was going on. “You’re the one who wanted this engagement.”

“I know.”

“You’re the one who leaked the wedding date to the press.”

“I know that, too.”

“You’re the one who played up the childhood-sweethearts-going-home-to-Florida-to-get-married angle.”

“Yes.”

“You convinced me to leave New York and move out here.”

He shook his head. “But you’re glad about that, aren’t you? Look how well you’re doing. Any day now, you’re going to get a call that one of the big studios is going to produce your screenplay.”

She wished she could be as sure. Madison had confidence in the story she’d crafted and pitched to the studios, with Tommy’s help. But that didn’t make it a done deal, even with his name attached to it as the star. Although, that sure didn’t hurt.

She hadn’t written it with him in mind. She’d seen her possibly murderous hero being someone much more dark and twisted. But he’d read the script, loved it and asked for the role. Who was she to turn down Hollywood’s number one box office draw?

“This isn’t simply cold feet, is it?” she asked, glancing down at the feet in question. “Make that cold ginormous feet.”

“They’re warm and toasty,” he said with a flirtatious grin that would melt the underwear off any woman. Well, any woman who didn’t know him well. “And you know what they say, big feet...”

“Big, fat ego,” she said with a definite eye roll. Tommy Shane had long ago lost the ability to flirt his way around her common sense. She liked him—loved him, in fact—but she was wise to his antics and not susceptible to his looks or his charm.

“So, what do you say? Will you dump me, ASAP, preferably in as public a manner as possible?”

“Dude, seriously? I’d be happy to dump you on your ass so hard your butt cheeks will look like pancakes,” she said, feeling far more relieved than a supposedly blushing bride should. “But I have two questions. First, will anybody buy it?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, why would any woman ever break up with you?”

“Well, I’m gay.”

There was that.

Tommy’s legion of worldwide fans wouldn’t believe it, but his sexuality hadn’t been a secret to her, not for a long time. He might play the part of sex symbol to every woman on the planet, but in his private life, Tommy Shane was strictly attracted to men—lately one particular man—and was very happy about it.

“Yeah, but nobody knows about that. Wasn’t your in-the-closet-ness the reason we got engaged in the first place?”

“Of course.”

“And haven’t we been playing lovebirds to the press to cement your cover story so you can keep those sexy-leading-man roles coming your way?”

He smirked. “Well, it wasn’t for your smoking-hot bod.”

Chuckling, she placed a hand against her smoking-hot hip, knowing she held as much sex appeal for him as a beach ball. The one time she’d tried to kiss him romantically—when they were in middle school—she’d known they lacked any chemistry. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out why. Hell, she should have figured it out in elementary school when the two of them would always fight over who got to be Buttercup when they played Powerpuff Girls.

Although the story they’d fed to the press had been fairy-tale nonsense, there had been some truth in it. They had known each other from childhood. She, Tommy and her twin sister Candace—who’d always played Bubbles to their Buttercup during The Powerpuff Girls days—had been inseparable growing up. He’d climbed into their window for secret sleepovers, had spent long summer days with them at the beach. He had taught Candace how to dance, and Madison how to give a blow job...using a banana, of course. He’d always loved to perform, but had also been strong—he even punched a guy once who’d groped Madison at a concert. Heck, he’d been the one who’d bought a pregnancy test kit for her when she’d had a late-period scare in high school. He’d even offered to marry her if the stick turned blue!

He was a wonderful, loyal, devoted friend. Which was why she had stepped in and agreed to get engaged to him in his time of need...after her sister, who was supposed to be the false fiancée, had gone and fallen in love with her dream man.

No, the engagement wasn’t supposed to culminate in a real marriage, but their planned breakup was a long way off. They’d scheduled everything, figuring in shooting schedules and premieres, knowing how long they needed to keep up the pretense. They’d discussed how to pull off a gradual, friendly breakup once both of them were in good enough career positions to come out of it unscathed. And now he wanted to ditch all that in favor of an impromptu dumping, before they’d even had a chance to stage a public disagreement?

“Nobody’ll buy it. You’re the biggest fish in the ocean. What woman in her right mind would let you slip off her hook?”

“They’ll believe it once the world knows what a cheating mackerel I am,” he said with a simple shrug.

She gaped. “Tell me you’re joking. You did not cheat!”

She didn’t add on me. How could he cheat on her when they weren’t involved? Even if the big rock on her finger said otherwise.

But there was someone else he could have cheated on, which would break Madison’s heart. Tommy’s new guy was wonderful.

“You didn’t betray Simon, did you?”

“No, of course not,” he insisted, looking horrified.

That made her feel a little better. Tommy wasn’t the most reliable sort when it came to his romantic life. If he was stupid enough to screw up this new relationship, she’d personally whack him upside the head with his own SAG Award.

“So you two are still okay?”

“Fine.” Tommy smiled wistfully. “He’s great, isn’t he?”

“More than great.” Simon, a neurosurgeon, made her friend happier than she’d seen him in years. “So who’d you cheat on?”

“You.”

“You’re saying you have another best-friend-turned-fake-fiancée...besides Candace? I mean, I’ve always forgiven you for cheating on me with my sister, even when we were in third grade and you always picked her first for kick ball.”

“Not Candace,” he said. “I meant, you tell the world I cheated on you. Since I’m turning over an open-and-honest leaf, you don’t even have to say it was with a woman. That’ll just be what people will think. Who wouldn’t dump me for cheating?”

Huh. He had a point. Technically, that was true.

“People will buy it. We’ll be all Rob-and-Kristen-like.”

She caught the reference. Madison wasn’t a Hollywood insider, despite her engagement to a crown prince of Tinseltown, but who hadn’t heard of the scandal surrounding one of Hollywood’s “It” couples during the whole Twilight craze?

“Okay, so they probably would believe that. People have been wondering how on earth I caught you in the first place.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, gorgeous.”

She shrugged. Attractive? Yeah, she’d cop to that. But gorgeous? No way. She had never felt more inept and lacking as a woman than when she’d attended some of these L.A. parties packed wall-to-wall with women who were pretzel-stick thin, cover-girl perfect and runway model clothed. Oh, and saber-toothed-tiger clawed. Sheesh, the competition out here was insane.

“But even if it works, why should we do it now rather than sticking to our long engagement, slow-breakup plan?”

He thrust a hand through his thick, sun-streaked hair, looking boyishly adorable. If there’d been an audience, all the women would just have sighed, every one of them dying to smooth that soft hair back into place. Madison just grunted.

Melodrama over, he said, “It’s because of Simon.”

“He asked you to do this?”

“No. We’ve been talking about how important it is to be honest. Me living a lie with you—no matter how good the reason or the fact that you’re fine with it—won’t convince him I’m growing and becoming true to myself.”

“Simon would never want you to sabotage your career.”

“I know. But this is a step toward the kind of life I want, and the kind of man I want to be. One who isn’t afraid, who doesn’t go to crazy lengths to hide who he is.”

She rarely heard Tommy talk this way. His blue eyes didn’t sparkle with mischief. He didn’t appear to be acting. He was just being the sweet boy next door she’d always known, telling her what he really wanted, all the pretense stripped away, all the trappings of his lifestyle shoved into the background. Just Tommy. Just her friend. Her friend who needed her.

She’d always been there when he needed her, and vice versa.

“Besides, you’re not being true to yourself, either,” he added. “You aren’t like Candace. I knew it wouldn’t be a hardship for her to go without sex for a while. You, though... I know you’re horny enough to climb out of your own skin.”

She couldn’t deny that; Tommy knew her well. She’d been the first one of the three of them to lose her virginity—at sixteen—and had probably had more lovers than the other two combined. The six months of their engagement had been the longest she’d gone without sex in years, and her biggest, naughtiest toys just weren’t filling the gap anymore. So to speak.

“You’ve been a great fiancée. Now you can be off the hook and go out there and get some.”

“Sure, I’ll just find a hot guy and say, ‘Do me, baby.’”

“Yep.”

“Not so easy.”

“Not so hard, either. So, will you dump me? Free us both?”

Hell, she’d gotten engaged to him out of love, hadn’t she? Of course she could dump the man for the same reason.

But, she suddenly realized, dumping him might not be in his best interest. Because here was the thing about movie star breakup scandals. It was always the cheater who got slammed, not the cheatee. Frankly, Madison didn’t need public approval. They wouldn’t pay one moment’s attention to a wannabe screenwriter who’d had a fling.

But Tommy Shane? Every woman’s fantasy man, every kid’s comic book hero, every man’s wanna-be-him guy? Well, hell. Tommy Shane couldn’t be a cheater. It would be like...like John Wayne turning out to be a secret communist or something.

“We can do this,” she told him, slowly thinking it out. “But I have a condition of my own.”

“I’ll still pay you half of everything I made this year.”

“Forget the money.” She’d never take another dime from him. Tommy had supported her while she’d finished her screenplay. He’d helped her pay her student loans. And she’d let him, figuring if she was going to give up her life, her job, her home and any other man for the duration of their engagement, she would earn it. She was not coming out of this relationship grasping the short end of the stick.

But she was almost free now. That was worth more than money. She’d gone into this with her eyes open, and didn’t regret it, but she couldn’t deny a big part of her was ready to be just Madison Reid, writer, not Tommy Shane’s fiancée.

And, though she wouldn’t admit it, getting to have sex again was a pretty darned big perk, too.

“So what’s your condition?” he asked.

“The condition is...I take the heat.”

“Huh?”

“I’m the cheater. I’m the bitch. And you break up with me.”

He sputtered. “No, you can’t do that.”

She put a hand up, cutting off his arguments. “Tommy Shane can’t be a cheating dog. I can. Nobody’ll give a damn.”

“You don’t know that,” he said. “The press can be nasty.”

“Why would they? They’ll say I’m an idiot for letting you get away and that’ll be the end of it.”

“What if it’s not?”

“Well, then, I’ll...take a vacation. You send me somewhere tropical and I’ll hide out until they forget all about me.”

“You should do that anyway. Find a nice, hunky beach bum to shack up with for a little while,” he said with an eyebrow wag.

“I’ll think about it. So we’re agreed?”

He frowned, clearly not liking the idea, but she wasn’t going to change her mind. Tommy would never get through a scandal unscathed, but she would. Who cared about Madison Reid? She could take whatever heat anybody wanted to dish out because it wouldn’t last for long.

And if it did? Well...there was always the somewhere-tropical-with-a-hunky-beach-bum idea.

2

“IT’S GOING TO BE one hell of a honeymoon.”

Although the driver of the cab looked confused, considering Leo Santori was sitting alone in the backseat, he didn’t reply. And it wasn’t just because this was Costa Rica and Leo didn’t speak Spanish. The driver spoke English, or something very much like it. No, he just seemed to be abiding by the code that said Americans on vacation in tropical paradises could be as strange as they wanted to be. It was all good. No problem.

“All good. No problem,” Leo muttered.

All good that he was honeymooning alone.

No problem that he’d been betrayed.

It’s really all good that my fiancée cheated on me six months ago so we canceled the wedding, which was supposed to have taken place yesterday. No problem that she kept the ring, the apartment, her yappy bichon frise—which really was no problem—and the new KitchenAid mixer, and I kept the nonrefundable honeymoon.

She’d also kept the best man. The one she’d cheated with.

No problem.

Still, it certainly was not a conversation he wanted to have with anyone. Especially not now that he was here in Central America, ready to embark on some to-hell-with-it adventures. Those would definitely include surfing and zip lining. Good drinks, beautiful beaches, exotic foods.

They also might include getting laid. If he happened to meet a woman who was interested in a rebound-sex-fest with a Chicago firefighter who had a slight chip on his shoulder and a honeymoon package created for two but starring only one.

“Here we are, señor,” said the driver.

The ride from the international airport in Liberia to this west coast paradise had been comfortable. The driver had pointed out various sights that Leo felt sure he’d explore over the next several days. No doubt about it, Costa Rica was every bit as beautiful—sunny, robin’s-egg-blue skies, vivid hills and jungles, perfect eighty-degree climate—as the brochures had said. An outstanding choice for a honeymoon. Even a solo one.

“Thanks, man,” he said.

The driver pulled out his suitcase and handed it off to a broadly smiling doorman who quickly swept it through the entrance of the hotel, which, as advertised, looked small, tasteful and upscale. Inside, Leo glanced around, noting that every wall seemed open to the outdoors. But it was still comfortable, a soft tropical breeze blowing through, whispering along the cool tile floors and setting the potted palms in gentle motion.

A bellhop engaged him in conversation in heavily accented English as they walked to the check-in desk. Leo only understood half of what he said, responding with smiles and nods.

The woman at the desk greeted him. “Welcome, Mr. Santori, we’re so very glad to have you with us.”

She smiled, obviously noting his surprise at being called by name. Then he thought about it and realized he might very well be the only person checking in today. He remembered from the research he’d done on this place that there were only twenty-four rooms on the whole property. Twenty-four bungalows each with a small, private pool and walled garden, just the thing for a romantic interlude between a new bride and groom.

Christ, what was he doing here?

The middle-aged woman, whose English was only slightly tinged with an accent, glanced past him and looked around the open lobby. “And where is Mrs. Santori?”

He grimaced. Obviously, despite his calls and his emails, word had not filtered down to the front desk that he would be traveling alone.

“Uh...”

“Oh, dear,” the woman said, reading something on the screen and biting her lip in consternation. She swallowed, visibly embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Santori, I didn’t see the notation on your reservation.”

Okay, so somebody had paid attention when he’d changed the reservation to make it clear he was no longer traveling with a companion. It had just taken her a moment to see the note. He wondered what it said. Maybe: attention—pathetic sap was cheated on and didn’t get married.

He doubted it happened often, but he couldn’t be the first single-on-a-honeymoon vacationer they’d ever seen.

He didn’t ask her to turn the screen so he could read it. His imagination was good enough. “No problem.”

She smiled her appreciation. “How was your trip from the airport, sir?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“Wonderful.” Her fingers continued to click on her keyboard as she finished working on his check-in. “We have you in our Emerald Bungalow. It’s one of our nicest on the west side of the property. Sunsets over the Pacific will make you gasp.”

Yeah. He was sure he’d be doing a lot of gasping during this trip, just not for the reasons he’d expected. It sure wouldn’t be out of breathlessness from the ninety-seven ways he and Ashley would have been having sex.

He pushed her name out of his head. He’d done a great job of that for the past six months, since the day he’d mistaken her phone for his and discovered the kinds of intimate sexting pictures he’d never want to see from a guy. Definitely not from Tim, his own old friend...and best man. Especially not when those messages were written to—and welcomed by—Leo’s fiancée.

Six months had been enough to calm the anger, soften the insult, heal the heart. For the most part. It maybe hadn’t been enough to kill the embarrassment, which was what he most felt these days when he thought about it. Which wasn’t often.

It was only because he’d come here, to take advantage of the nonrefundable vacation he’d paid for months before the scheduled wedding date, that he was thinking of his ex. Back home in Chicago, around his big extended family, or the guys at the station or the women wanting to help him jump back into the dating game, he was able to forget there’d ever been an Ashley. Or that he’d ever been stupid enough to think he’d really been in love with her. If he’d really been in love with her, Tim wouldn’t have ended up with a broken nose— he’d have ended up in traction. Or, if his great uncle Marco—supposedly mob connected—had had his way, with a pair of cement shoes.

But no. That wasn’t Leo’s way. No broken legs or kneecaps, definitely nothing even worse. Ashley just hadn’t been worth it. When it came right down to it, he’d known his pride had been a whole lot more bruised than his heart. So he’d walked out on her without a big scene, not moved by her crocodile tears. And he’d let Tim off with a punch in the face...and a warning to watch his wallet since Ashley was a bit of a spender.

Frankly, that was why he figured she’d gone for the guy to begin with. The one place Tim had ever outdone Leo in anything was the wallet. Hopefully the lawyer would continue raking in the bucks to keep Ash supplied in the stupid snowmen figurines to which she was addicted. Actually, screw it. He didn’t care if she never got another one, or if the freaky-faced little monsters melted. At least he didn’t have to look at them anymore.

“Sir?” the desk clerk prompted.

Realizing he’d let his mind drift, he shoved away thoughts of Ashley. He was in paradise and had no room in his head for anything dark. “Sounds great, thanks.”

“Here you go,” she said, handing him a plastic keycard. She also gave him a map of the property. “I hope you have a wonderful time. There are so many things to do, so many people to meet.”

He needed to get away from her slightly pitying expression before she mentioned that she had a single niece or something.

The bellhop approached with his suitcase and led him out of the lobby onto a path that wound through the lush grounds. He pointed out a few conveniences including, Leo thought, directions to the pool area and the beach. Or maybe he’d been pointing out a bird or an outhouse, frankly, Leo had no idea.

Finally, they came to a stop in front of a thatch-roofed cottage. “You,” the man said with a big smile.

Nodding, Leo slid his key into the reader. The light didn’t turn green, and he didn’t hear a click as the lock disengaged.

“Is no good?” the belhop asked.

“Doesn’t appear to be.”

The worker took the key card, tried himself, several times. It didn’t work for him, either.

“Forget it. I’ll have them reprogram it,” Leo said, not happy about having to trudge back to the lobby. Right now, he just wanted to strip out of his clothes and take a cool shower.

“Here,” the bellhop said, pulling out his own master keycard. That would save him the lobby trip for a while, anyway.

Following the man inside, Leo glanced around the room. It was large, airy, bright and immaculate. The vaulted ceiling was lined in pale wooden planks and two fans spun lazily overhead. Sandstone tile floors, peach walls, vibrant paintings of island life...just as advertised. A small café table designed for cozy, intimate breakfasts stood in one corner near a love seat. And the enormous king-size bed looked big enough for four honeymooners. He hid a sigh and shifted his gaze.

The bellhop lifted the suitcase onto the dresser, then headed over to unlock the patio door. He pulled it open and a warm, salt-and-flower-tinged breeze wafted in, bathing Leo’s skin. He wouldn’t need any AC; the ocean breezes were amazing.

“Pool, is very private,” the man said.

“I can see that.” Naked midnight swims had sounded appealing when they’d chosen this place. “Thank you,” he said, pulling some cash out of his pocket and handing it over.

The man smiled and departed. Alone, Leo walked to the sliding door, glancing outside at the small pool, which was surrounded on all sides by a tall hedge covered with bright pink flowers. The owners had really meant it when they’d promised privacy for the pool. The resort boasted a large one, with a swim-up bar and lounge chairs, but right now, wanting that coolness on every inch of his skin, he figured this smaller one would do the trick. Midnight naked swims? Hell...with that hedge and the stone wall behind it, daytime ones would be fine, too.

Smiling, he checked out the rest of the suite, pausing in the bathroom to strip out of his clothes and grab a towel, which he slung over one shoulder. He returned to the patio door, put one hand on the jamb and another on the slider and stood naked in the opening, letting that breeze bathe his body in coolness.

Heaven.

He was just about to step outside and let the warm late-day sun soak into his skin when he heard something very out of place. A voice. A woman’s voice. Coming from right behind him...inside his room.

“Oh. My. God!”

Shocked, he swung around, instinctively yanking the towel off his shoulder and letting it dangle down the middle of his body. To cover the bits that were dangling.

A woman stood in his room, staring at him, wide-eyed and openmouthed. They stared at each other, silent, surprised, and Leo immediately noticed several things about her.

She was young—his age, maybe. Definitely not thirty.

She was uncomfortable, tired, or not feeling well. Her blouse clung to her curvy body, as if it was damp with sweat. Dark smudges cupped her red-rimmed eyes, and she’d already kicked off her shoes, which rested on the floor right by the door, as if her first desire was to get barefoot, pronto.

Oh. And she was hot. Jesus, was she ever.

Gorgeous, in fact, with honey-brown hair that fell in a long, wavy curtain over her shoulders. Although reddened, her big green eyes were sparkling, jewel-toned, heavily lashed, with gently swooping brows above. Her face was perfect—high cheekbones, pretty chin, lush mouth. That body... Well, he suddenly blessed perspiration because the way that silky blouse clung to the full curves of her breasts was enough to make his heart skip every other beat. And the tight skirt that hugged curvaceous hips and several inches of long, slim thigh— leaving the rest of her legs bare for admiring—was making it skip every one in between.

She was also something else, he suddenly realized.

Shocked. Stunned. Maybe a little afraid.

“Hi,” he said with a small smile. He remained where he was, not wanting to startle her.

“I... You... You’re naked!”

“I am, yes.”

Her green eyes moved as she shifted her attention over his body, from bare shoulders, down his chest, then toward the white towel that he clutched in his fist right at his belly. She continued staring, scraping her attention over him like a barber used a blade—close, oh so damned close, and so very edgy.

Something like comprehension washed over her face and her tensed, bunched shoulders relaxed a little bit. “Did Tommy send you?” she whispered.

“Huh?”

“Of course it was Tommy. Or Candace? But, wait, this isn’t... I’m not... Look, I don’t need you.”

“Don’t need me for what?” To do your taxes? Cut your hair? Carry your suitcase?

Put out your fire?

Oh, he suspected he could do that last one, and it wasn’t just because of his job.

“To have sex with me. I don’t need to get laid this badly.”

His jaw fell open. “What?”

She licked her lips. “I mean, you’re very attractive and all.” Her gaze dropped again, and he noticed the redness in her cheeks, and the audible breaths she drew across those lush lips. “Still, I just don’t do that. I couldn’t.”

He had no idea what she was babbling about. But he was starting to get an idea. The gentlemanly part of him wanted to tell her right away that she was in the wrong room. The male part demanded he wait and see what on earth this beauty would say next.

“You couldn’t do what?” he asked, letting the towel drop a little bit. Oh, it still covered what he needed to cover, but he wasn’t gripping it the way a spinster virgin would grip her petticoats. And when she licked her lips, eyeing the thin trail of hair that disappeared beneath the terry fabric, he couldn’t resist letting it slip a little bit more.

He was no flasher. But damn, the woman made it interesting to be ogled.

Her eyes almost popped out of her head. “I couldn’t, you know, uh, hire you.”

He didn’t ask what for. It sure wasn’t to trim her hedges. At least, not any green ones. He’d begun to suspect she’d taken him for an escort...or even a gigolo. Why on earth this beautiful woman would need either one, he couldn’t say. But he was having fun trying to figure it out.

“I’m not desperate. I would never, uh, have sex with a, uh, professional.” Her voice falling into a mumble, she added, “Not even one with the finest male ass I have ever seen in my entire life.”

Leo was torn between indignation, laughter and lust. Right now, judging by how he felt about the way her assessing eyes belied every word she said about not wanting him, lust was winning the battle.

“You wouldn’t, huh?” He stepped closer, moving easily, slowly, almost gliding.

She did the same, edging closer, her bare feet sliding smoothly over the tile floor. “No. Never.”

They met near the end of the bed, both stopping when they got within a couple of feet of each other. She licked her lips, shrugged her shoulders, and said, “So, thanks for the effort, it was a, um, nice surprise. But I think you should go.”

“You’d like that, would you?”

Her eyes said no. Her lips forced out the word, “Yes.”

“I can’t do that,” he said, his voice low, thick.

He edged closer, unable to resist lifting a hand to brush a long, drooping curl back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She hissed a little, tilting her head, as if to curve her cheek into his palm.

“Why not?” she whispered.

His tone equally as intimate, he replied, “Because you’re in my room.”

She froze, eyed him, then quickly looked around. Her gaze landed on his suitcase. She turned to peer into the bathroom, obviously seeing the clothes he’d let fall to the floor. Then back at him. “Your...”

“My room,” he said, a slow smile pulling his lips up.

“You mean, you’re a... You’re not a...”

“Right. I’m a. And I’m not a.”

She groaned softly, her green eyes growing bright with moisture. Those shoulders slumped again in pure, visible weariness and her mouth twisted. She didn’t look so much embarrassed as purely humiliated. Dejected.

“I’m so sorry,” she muttered.

She backed up a step, obviously not realizing how close she was to the bed. Her hip banged into the wooden footboard, and she winced, jerking away and suddenly losing her balance. She tumbled to her side, toward the hard tiled floor.

Leo didn’t stop to think. He lunged, diving to catch her as she fell, letting out an oomph as she landed in his arms. Her tall, slender body was pressed against his, fitting perfectly, her head tucked under his chin, her slim waist wrapped in one arm, her shoulders in the other. She didn’t immediately squirm away. Instead, she stared up at him, her eyes round, her mouth rounder.

Their stares locked and he found himself trying to identify just what shade of green those beautiful eyes were. Emerald? Jade? Jungle? Something like all of the above, plus they had a tiny ring of gold near the pupil, looking like a starburst.

She said nothing, just stared at his face. The moment stretched between them, long, heavy and strange. It was as if they were communicating on a deep, elemental level, no words being necessary, saying everything two people who’d just met would usually say. Like they wanted to get the preliminaries out of the way. For what, he didn’t yet know.

“Thank you,” she said, breathing the words across those lush lips.

If this were a movie, his next step would be to kiss her.

If it were a steamy one, the kiss would lead to so much more. He could suddenly see himself touching her, stroking the tip of his finger down the slick column of her throat, into the V of her blouse. Flicking it open, button after button, and pulling the fabric away from her heated skin.

In a moment as long as a single heartbeat, his mind had filled in all the blanks, seeing what it would be like to touch her, make love to her, without ever even learning her name. As if she were a present who’d landed in his arms just because he deserved her.

His body reacted—how could it not react?—but the position wasn’t awkward enough to make it incredibly obvious to her. But maybe she was aware, anyway. A pink flush had risen up her face and her lips had fallen apart so she could draw deep, shaky breaths. He could see the frantic racing of her pulse in her throat, and her body trembled.

Yeah. She knew. And judging by the warm, musky scent of woman that began to fill his every inhalation, he wasn’t the only one affected by the shocking encounter.

There’s one problem. This isn’t a movie.

Right. This was real life, she was a stranger and he, as far as he knew, was a nice guy. The woman was obviously confused, light-headed enough to fall when she moved too quickly. And she didn’t look like the type to have anonymous sex with someone she’d known for five minutes.

Time to end this, he knew. Time to put her on her feet, push her out the door and hope he ran into her again this week when she was steady, healthy and fully in control of her thoughts.

God, did he hope he’d been good enough in his life to be rewarded like that.

“This is a little awkward,” she finally whispered, as if realizing the cloud of lust had begun to lift from his brain and reality was returning.

“Easy for you to say. At least you have some clothes on.”

A tiny gasp escaped her lips. Reflexively, she cast a quick glance down at the floor. He followed the glance, seeing the same pile of white fabric she was seeing.

His towel. He’d dropped it when he’d lunged to catch her.

Yeah. He was naked. Completely naked, aroused at the feel of hot, musky, soft woman in his arms.

A woman who looked on the verge of...

“Son of a bitch,” he mumbled.

Because she was no longer on the verge of anything. The beautiful stranger had fainted.

3

MADISON HAD BEEN HAVING the strangest dream. As she slowly woke up, feeling coolness on her face, she realized she must have drifted off on the plane. The cool air had to be coming from the vent over her seat.

She shifted, but didn’t open her eyes right away, liking the dream a little too much. In it, she’d already arrived at her destination—a tropical resort where she intended to hide out for a week. She’d entered her room, exhausted, sweaty, miserable and nauseous from the long cab ride—necessitated by her landing at the wrong Costa Rican airport. Just another example of how quickly she’d had to get out of the U.S., how desperate she’d been to get away.

Things hadn’t gotten much better on her arrival. The doorman had been arguing with a deliveryman, the guy at the check-in desk barely spoke English and kept suggesting she wait for a woman who was apparently on break. She’d lost patience, demanding her key and dragged her own suitcase through the thickly vegetative grounds.

Arriving in her room, wanting nothing but a cold shower and bed, she’d entered, kicked off her shoes, and had been stunned to behold a naked Adonis standing with his back toward her.

That was how she knew she’d been dreaming. Men that gorgeous, that utterly perfect, didn’t exist outside of dreams and fantasies. Even Tommy, admittedly one of the handsomest men alive, wasn’t built like that.

The man’s hair had been dark, almost black, short, thick and wavy. And his bare body had been a thing of art. Broad shoulders had flexed as he’d leaned in the doorway, as if wanting to soak up the outdoors. His strong back was delineated with muscle that rippled with his every movement. Smooth skin encased a slim waist and hips, and he had an unbelievably perfect butt and long, powerful legs.

He’d turned around to reveal a strong, handsome face, masculine and unforgettable. Broad of brow, with deep-set, heavily-lashed brown eyes, slashing cheekbones, jutting chin with a tiny cleft, and a sexy, half smiling mouth.

Unfortunately, her dream state hadn’t left him completely uncovered in the front. Her brain had inserted a coy white towel. She wanted to dive back into the dream to see it drop. Oh, she hoped she didn’t have to open her eyes before that towel dropped.

But, wait...it had dropped. Hadn’t it? For some reason, she remembered it on the floor. But she couldn’t remember if he’d let it fall as he took her into his arms to passionately kiss her or what. Stupid dream really needed to come back and fill in all the blanks. Or at least most of them. The most interesting ones. She wasn’t going to let herself wake up until it did, not even if they landed and started deboarding the plane.

“Open your eyes.”

She growled in her throat.

“Come on, open up. You’re okay.”

That voice was seriously messing with her good dream vibes. But it was, she had to concede, a nice voice. Deep, sexy, masculine. Was it a flight attendant, rousing her for landing? Or was she still dreaming about Mr. Tall, Dark and Built?

“Come on, sweetheart.” Coolness brushed her temples, soft, featherlight, then her mouth. “Take a sip.”

Moisture kissed her lips. Was her dream guy giving her champagne? She swallowed.

Water. Not champagne.

And that moisture on her temples was sliding down into her hairline.

And...and...this wasn’t a dream.

Her eyes flew open.

Definitely not a dream.

“You,” she breathed.

It had really happened. She’d arrived at the hotel, walked into her room, seen a gorgeous stranger, and, what? Fallen and hit her head or something? What other reason would there be for her to be...where was she?

It took only a second for her to gather her wits. Holy shit, she was lying flat on her back in a bed. And this handsome, bare-chested stranger was sitting right beside her, tenderly pressing a damp facecloth to her forehead, eyeing her with visible concern.

“You’re okay. Take deep breaths. Drink a little more.”

She obediently sipped from the water bottle he placed against her lips, trying to kick her brain back into operation.

“What happened?”

“You fainted.”

“I never faint.” Girlie-girls fainted, and Madison was not a girlie-girl. She’d never been the type who’d wilt like a flower, especially not in front of some man.

Some man who’d apparently picked her up, put her on the bed and taken care of her.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

She frowned, still having a hard time believing it.

“Why would I faint?”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Well, that could have something to do with it.”

Yes, it could.

“You don’t look like you’ve slept much lately, either.”

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a full, uninterrupted night’s sleep. “I slept on the plane. Or...maybe that was a dream of a dream. Hell, I don’t know.”

“You looked pretty uncomfortable when you arrived. Sick maybe.”

Sick? Maybe sick at heart. Heaven knew she had reason, considering what her life had been like in recent weeks.

“Do you think you’re going to be okay? Should I have the hotel call an ambulance?”

“Good heavens, no!” That was all she needed. More attention. So much for slinking unnoticed into another country and hiding from the world for a while. “I just... I was really carsick. I guess I flew into the wrong airport and it took hours to get here, with no air-conditioning and tons of twisty roads.” Ugh, when she thought about all those ups, downs and hairpin turns, she felt her stomach roll over.

“You need to eat something.”

It rolled again. But she knew he was right. Something light would probably be good.

She scrunched her brow, trying to recall the last time she’d sat down for a meal, and honestly couldn’t remember. Crackers on the plane probably didn’t count, though she’d give her right arm for some right now, if only to settle her churning stomach. Whether it was still churning from the drive here or from the fact that this gorgeous stranger was sitting close beside her on a bed, she had no idea.

“Why don’t I order something from room service?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“You know what they say, save someone’s life and they become your responsibility.”

She rolled her eyes. “Saved my life, huh?”

He smiled and a tiny dimple appeared in one cheek, taking that dish of handsome and adding a big heaping helping of freaking adorable on top.

“If I hadn’t caught you, you would have cracked your head open. That tile’s pretty hard.”

She suddenly thought about everything that had happened before she’d tripped. The awkward conversation when she’d rejected his services. Services he hadn’t even been offering.

The way they’d drawn closer together, even while she’d been saying no, as if some unseen magnetic pull between their bodies was working them into close proximity.

Tripping over her own stupid feet. Falling. Him catching her.

The towel on the floor.

Gasping a little, she immediately looked down, not sure whether to sigh in relief or cry in disappointment that he wasn’t naked. At some point, he’d grabbed a pair of jeans and yanked them on. They weren’t even buttoned, as if he’d been in too much of a hurry to do more than zip. Maybe because he’d been busy lifting her onto the bed, fetching a cold cloth and water to revive her?

She swallowed hard, her mouth dry despite the water she’d been sipping. Because she had a mad impulse to grab the tab of that zipper and pull it down a little more, to see if he’d taken the time to put on anything else before the jeans. She suspected not.

“Well, you definitely seem to be feeling better.”

That deep, husky voice suddenly sounded more amused than solicitous. Madison realized what she’d done—jerking her attention off his face and ogling him like a stripper at ladies night—and gulped. She took a deep breath, then worked up the courage to look up. It was a slow lift of the eyes. She just couldn’t resist focusing on his body, so close, so big and warm and spicy smelling. She had to note the flat stomach rippled with muscle, the broad chest, wiry hair encircling his flat nipples. Those powerful shoulders, corded and thick, and on up the throat to the strong, lightly grizzled jaw.

And the face. Oh, lord, that face.

That smiling face.

“You done?”

She took a deep, even breath.

“I’m a little confused,” she mumbled, lifting a shaking hand to her head.

“Yeah, right.”

Well, damn, so much for her thinking he was a gentleman. He could at least have pretended not to notice she’d been struck dumb by his looks.

Then she remembered the way he’d swooped down to catch her, how he’d put her on the bed and tenderly taken care of her. She conceded he was definitely a gentleman. Just one with a sense of humor. Considering she’d accused him of being a male prostitute, that was a good thing.

“Am I really in your room?”

“I think so,” he said. Then he frowned. “Although, to be honest, I could be in the wrong one. My key didn’t work, so the bellhop let me in. He didn’t speak English very well...maybe we got our wires crossed and he let me into the wrong one.”

“Well, if that’s the case, feel free to stay.”

One brow shot up.

She flushed. “I mean, they can put me in another room. You’ve already settled in.”

“I really don’t mind being the one to move. You look like you need to stay right in this bed until tomorrow.”

Yeah, and she couldn’t deny she wouldn’t mind if he stayed in it with her. Well, she couldn’t deny it to herself, anyway. She’d deny it to her last breath if he accused her of feeling that way.

“Long trip?”

“You have no idea. I’ve been traveling for what seems like days.”

“From where?”

“Hmm, kind of all over,” she said, thinking about the crazy whirlwind her life had become in the past few weeks, ever since she’d become the woman who’d betrayed the beloved Tommy Shane. Whore, slut, bitch, user, taker, Jezebel—some preacher had lobbed that one from a pulpit—those were some of the names that had been launched at her.

So much for thinking she would escape the breakup unscathed. Could she possibly have been more naive? She’d never in a million years imagined that by becoming the bad girl who’d broken the heart of Hollywood’s golden boy, she would be loathed, vilified and reviled all over the freaking country.

She’d had paparazzi follow her wherever she went. People who recognized her from her picture on the cover of every tabloid on the newsstand greeted her with catcalls and jeers. Her life had been ripped to shreds on blogs and Hollywood gossip shows. A woman had even spit on her while she was grocery shopping.

So she’d taken off to northern California. Unfortunately, everyone knew she had a twin sister who lived in Napa, and she hadn’t been hard to find. Poor Candace and Oliver, who liked to live quietly, had come into the limelight, too.

Then it was off to Florida to visit her parents. Same story. She hadn’t stayed there long. It had been way too much to ask for them to play along when they saw how horribly she was being treated. They knew better than anyone that she and Tommy hadn’t had a real engagement, and her father had been dying to defend her. Or at least to punch a few photographers. Heaven forbid she be the cause of his next heart attack!

So distraught over the whole thing that he’d decided to come out, Tommy had planned a press conference. Madison had told him to forget it. What he needed to do was buy her a ticket to somewhere warm. Before long, she was headed for the airport again.

Costa Rica. It should be far enough away for her to regain her sanity. Lord, did she hope so. If this scandal hadn’t blown over by the time she went home, she didn’t know what she would do.

“Hello?”

She realized her mind had drifted. She cleared her throat. “What?”

“Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere I want to return to,” she insisted vehemently.

“You’re on the run, huh?”

“You might say that.” Something prompted her to add, “You, too?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Not a bank robber, are you?” she asked, her tone light and teasing, even though the possibility that he was an ax murderer had flashed across her mind. Of course, if he’d wanted to chop her into kindling, he could easily have done it while she was unconscious. Besides, nobody with eyes as warm and kind as this man’s could ever be the violent sort. He looked and behaved like a real-life hero.

“No. I stick strictly to convenience and liquor stores for my life of crime.”

“Penny ante,” she said with an airy wave of her hand.

“What about you? Are you a secret double agent seducing your way into state secrets?”

She batted her lashes. “You think I could?”

“Honey, I know you could.”

The vehemence in his tone made her smile fade a bit. They were no longer teasing and joking. The attraction between them had been thick from the moment he’d turned around and found her in his room, but they’d been successfully hiding from it. Except, she suddenly remembered, for that long, heated moment when he’d held her in his arms after he’d caught her. She wasn’t a mind reader, but she’d had no difficulty seeing what was going through his head. Probably because the same wild, erotic thoughts had been going through hers.

Sex with a stranger. Nameless, guiltless, hedonistic. Wild and unforgettable and something never to be regretted.

Oh, yes. She’d definitely been thinking those thoughts.

The fact that he had, too, and that he hadn’t taken advantage of the situation, reinforced her hero assessment. She couldn’t think of him as merely a nice guy...that didn’t do justice to this man. She barely knew him, yet she knew he was ever so much more than that.

As if he’d noticed the warm, approving way she was looking at him, he cleared his throat and slid off the bed, standing beside it. “Think you can sit up?”

She nodded, knowing she could do it on her own but somehow unable to refuse his help when he bent and slid a powerful arm behind her shoulders. He helped her into a sitting position and it was all she could do not to turn her head and nip at the rigid muscle flexing near her cheek, or to breathe deeply to inhale his musky, masculine scent.

Tommy had obviously been right. She needed sex, badly. And for a moment, she found herself wishing her first impression had been correct and the man had been for hire. Because completely unencumbered, drop-your-pants-right-now-and-make-me-come sex sounded pretty damned awesome right now.

“By the way,” he said as he stepped away from the bed, “I’m Leo. Leo Santori. What’s your name?”

“My name?” Considering how desperately she’d been trying to evade the scandal her name created lately, she had to think for a second about how to respond.

“You have one, don’t you? It’s the thing they give you at the hospital before you get to go home.”

“I thought that was a blanket.”

“I don’t think they give you the blankets anymore.”

“Pacifier?”

“Judging by the number of kids my cousins have had, I’m thinking they pretty much ship you out the door with just a red-faced mutant and a big old bill.”

She snickered, liking the good humor in his tone. Then she seized on the rest of his comment. “So you don’t have any of your own?”

“Pacifiers?”

She smirked. “Kids.”

“Nope.” He hesitated the briefest moment before adding, “And there’s no one waiting in the wings to supply any.”

So, he was single? How interesting that he’d felt the need to point that out. How fascinating that the knowledge made her heart leap in her chest.

“What about you?”

“No pacifiers. No kids. Nobody trying to get me to have them.”

“Well, that covers just about everything,” he said. “Except one... Are you going to tell me your name?”

“It’s Madison,” she said.

She didn’t add the last name. No need to tempt fate, right? He didn’t look like the kind of guy who followed Hollywood gossip. Nor did he seem the type who would sell her out to the tabloids. But then, the host of that syndicated radio show hadn’t seemed like the type who would release her private number on the air so she could be bombarded with hateful calls and texts, either.

If this Leo Santori was the curious type, he could get online—she supposed even this reclusive resort had internet access—and check her out on Google. If he had her first and last names, he’d come up with a ton of hits, none of which put her in a very good light. Any of them would probably tip somebody off that they could make a quick buck selling her out to the tabloids. That was one reason she’d chosen this resort—they apparently catered to wealthy clientele looking for privacy.

Which made her wonder just what Leo Santori did for a living, and what he’d come here to escape.

“Okay, Madison, how about you stay here? I’ll go talk to the people at the front desk and try to get this straightened out. And I’ll bring you something to eat when I come back.”

“I couldn’t...”

“Sure you could. Feel free to dive into the pool and cool off while I’m gone. You look like you could use it.”

She glanced out the door, seeing the beautiful swimming pool, so secluded in a private, idyllic garden, and realized he was right. Gliding through that cool water sounded like heaven right now.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” she asked, feeling badly but also really not wanting to make that long trudge back to the front desk again.

“I’m sure,” he said, heading into the bathroom. The bed was angled so that she had a clear view of him standing in front of the large mirror, and she watched as he grabbed a shirt and pulled it on over his massive shoulders.

Gracious, the man’s muscles had muscles. Her heart was being all spastic, thudding and skipping along, and she couldn’t seem to even out her breaths to get the right amount of oxygen. She felt light-headed, no longer queasy but there were definitely butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. Her legs were quivering a little, and she was hot between them.

The stranger was totally turning her on, like she couldn’t ever remember being turned on before. He was like a miracle worker, a sex god who got women all hot and bothered for a living...except he apparently didn’t follow through.

Right. Not a gigolo. Check.

Which was too bad.

You’re being ridiculous a little voice in her head said. One thing Madison had never been accused of was having a limited imagination. Considering she wrote stories for a living—one of which was an extremely erotic film that would surely earn an NC-17 rating if it ever got made, and that looked pretty iffy right now—she couldn’t deny she’d been thinking about wild, wicked sex a lot lately. It seemed the longer it had been since she’d had it, the more it filled her thoughts.

So much for coming to a secret hideaway to get some peace and tranquillity. If this guy’s room was anywhere near hers, she would probably turn into some female Peeping Tom before the week was out. Because her mind just wasn’t going to stop thinking about that white towel until she knew what was under it.

“What do you do, anyway?” she asked when he returned, carrying his shoes. Stripper? Male model?

“I’m a firefighter.”

Her jaw fell open, then she snapped it closed. Because, that totally made sense. She could easily picture him carrying ladders and big, thick hoses. He probably carried one around with him all the time.

Stop it. You’re delirious.

“A real American hero?” she said, amused that her instant assessment of him was so dead-on. He really was a hero.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he insisted with a self-deprecating shrug.

“Have you ever saved anyone’s life?”

Another shrug. He looked embarrassed. “I guess.”

“That was a pretty vague answer to a yes-or-no question,” she said, her voice wry. “‘I guess’ is the type of answer you’d give if someone asked you if you had a good time at a party or if you liked a movie. Saving someone’s life seems to require a bit more specificity.”

“Okay.”

“Was that a yes?”

He grinned. “I guess.”

She couldn’t help chuckling. “Where do you live?”

“Chicago. You?”

Hmm. Good question. She’d been raised in Florida. Then she’d moved to New York after grad school, determined to be a world-class journalist. Only, she’d realized she kind of hated journalists. That was when she’d started writing screenplays. And when she’d gotten engaged to Tommy, she’d moved to Southern California. Now, she honestly didn’t know where she was going to live.

“I’m sort of between housing right now.”

That dimple reappeared. “That was a pretty vague answer.”

“I suppose it was. I’ve been living in L.A. But I’m not sure what I’m going to do when I leave here. I might go back to New York.”

“Chicago’s got better pizza.”

Her jaw dropped. “You must be kidding. That loaf of bread with cheese on it that they serve in Chicago has got nothing on a thin, crispy slice of pepperoni from Ray’s.”

He drew up, looking offended. “My uncle and cousin run a pizza place with food that would make your taste buds decide to commit suicide rather than eat pizza anywhere else ever again.”

“With all due respect to your uncle and cousin, you’re mental cheese has obviously slipped off its crust. Because you’re crazy.”

“I challenge you to a taste test.”

“I don’t think we’re going to find very good examples of New York or Chicago style here in Central America.”

“When we get back stateside then.”

Implying they might see each other again after they left here? Oh, how tempting a thought. But she forced herself to concede, an impossible one.

“Maybe,” she murmured, quickly looking away. A sharp stab of disappointment shot through her because she knew she was lying.

She couldn’t see him again. Not at home. Not here. Once he got the room situation straightened out, she needed to avoid him altogether.

Maybe if he’d been the gigolo she’d thought him, she’d take a chance. Or if he’d been anything but the delightful, warm, friendly, protective man she’d already seen him to be. As it was, though, she couldn’t get involved with anybody like Leo Santori. Her life was too freaking messed up right now to involve anyone else in it.

“Well, guess I’ll head up to the lobby,” he said, as if noticing that she’d pulled away, if only mentally. “And I was serious, feel free to use the pool.”

She nodded. “I might do that. Thanks. Maybe you should take my room key, just in case I’m outside and don’t hear you knock.”

He picked it up off the dresser where she’d tossed it and departed. After he’d gone, Madison thought about his offer to use the pool. She had been serious about how appealing it sounded, though she wouldn’t swim the way she suspected he’d been about to. Judging by the towel he’d been oh-so-inconveniently holding, he’d been planning to skinny-dip. That sounded perfect, delightful, in fact. Letting her naked body soak up the breezes and the warmth was just about her idea of heaven.

Of course, she wasn’t quite desperate enough to strip out of her clothes and pose in front of the door the way he had. Even if she did have a very nice ass, if she did say so herself. Still, she wasn’t about to bare it for some stranger...a stranger she’d already decided she couldn’t have, no matter how much she might want him.

Now that he was gone, now that the room wasn’t full of his warm, masculine presence, she managed to pull the rest of her brain cells together. It wasn’t just that she couldn’t trust anyone she met to keep her secret; there was more to it than that. Coming here to Costa Rica had been about hiding out, licking her wounds, staying out of the limelight and being completely on her own. She needed to rediscover the Madison she’d been six months ago, before her crazy engagement, before she’d become chum for an ocean of avaricious sharks.

There was more, though. She just couldn’t do that to him...or to any man. Because, even if she could keep him in the dark about who she really was—and the scandal she’d hopefully left behind in the states—she’d be exposing him to a lot of danger, too. The last thing she needed was to get involved with some guy, then get tracked down by the paparazzi. Any man she spent time with would be subject to the same vicious scrutiny she’d endured, maybe even accused of being the mystery lover she’d cheated on Tommy with. The one who didn’t exist.

She just couldn’t put anybody else through that, especially not someone as great as Leo seemed to be. So, no. There was no room in her life for a fling with a hot fireman. None whatsoever.

Even if she desperately wished there were.

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