Can a shock baby...

...redeem this damaged doctor?

In this SOS Docs story, the last person pediatrician Ethan Reid expects to see on board the rescue boat during his latest humanitarian mission is nurse Claire Durand. The woman he shared an electrifying, anonymous encounter with is now his newest colleague! Life’s taught Ethan to keep everyone at arm’s length, but Claire’s bombshell changes everything. Because Ethan’s no longer alone—Claire’s pregnant with his baby!

Award-winning author LOUISA GEORGE has been an avid reader her whole life. In between chapters she’s managed to train as a nurse, marry her doctor hero and have two sons. Now she writes chapters of her own in the medical romance, contemporary romance and women’s fiction genres. Louisa’s books have variously been nominated for the coveted RITA® Award and the New Zealand Koru Award, and have been translated into twelve languages. She lives in Auckland, New Zealand.

Also by Louisa George

Tempted by Hollywood’s Top Doc

The Nurse’s Special Delivery

Reunited by Their Secret Son

A Nurse to Heal His Heart

SOS Docs collection

Saved by Their One-Night Baby

And look out for the next book

Redeeming Her Brooding Surgeon by Sue MacKay Available now

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Saved by Their One-Night Baby

Louisa George

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09003-2

SAVED BY THEIR ONE-NIGHT BABY

© 2019 Louisa George

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

BLACK. SO MUCH BLACK.

Black and cold and something heavy pressing on his chest.

So cold.

Pain in his head.

A sickening creak of steel cut through the thick silence, making his gut tighten and panic creep through every cell in his body.

Black.

So cold.

So cold.

So cold.

‘Johnny? Nick? Eddie? Ethan? Anyone?’

Me. That’s my name. Ethan Reid.

Uncontrollable shaking spread from his gut through his bones and over his skin. His heart thumped and his head ached. Someone was shouting his name, someone out there in the blackness.

‘Cold. Head.’ He’d said it out loud, he was sure he had, but he couldn’t hear his own voice. He tried to take a deep breath, but something was on his chest and he couldn’t move. Something pressing down on his chest, his legs, his arm. He blinked. Again. Tried to make out something, anything. His heart rate doubled, trebled. He tried to move but he was pinned to the cold, wet ground. There was space above him, enough to lift his head up, but when he did he made contact with something big and immovable.

Where was he? What was happening? He couldn’t move? Where...?

Think. Think. Think.

Blackness everywhere. Time slowed and the blackness started to eat at him piece by piece. Blackness that was so tight and choking he thought he was going to drown in it.

Falling. Falling. Blackness.

‘Cold.’ He tried again. Cold and wet and black and...he was shaking. Every part of him. ‘Cold.’

‘Ethan? Thank God. Stay with me. Ethan!’

A warm hand on his. He couldn’t see... Wait, over there...a pinhole of a light.

‘Ethan? Ethan, can you hear me?’

He tried to nod but he couldn’t move his head. Everything hurt so much, the light and his head and his legs.

‘Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.’ Chase. Chase Barrington. It was Chase’s voice, right? And he wanted him to squeeze his hand. Why? Why the hell would he squeeze Chase’s hand?

They’d had a fight. Hadn’t they? They always fought. The last thing he’d do was squeeze his hand.

But, sensing this was important, Ethan did as he was told.

‘Hey, Ethan? I said squeeze my hand if you can hear me.’

He just had. Hadn’t he?

The warmth disappeared, as did the voice. Then, from somewhere far away, he heard Chase again. He strained to hear what he was saying. ‘It’s Ethan. Yup. Look, some of the others are...’ Chase paused. His voice had fractured, pain filling every word. ‘Accounted for. And Ethan was in the drying room the last time I saw him, before... No, I can’t get him out, he’s under about three storeys’ worth of bricks, plaster and a massive beam that’s snapped in half. And he’s unresponsive.’

No! I’m here. I’m here. Help me.

Somebody else said something. Muffled.

Then Chase again, ‘Nick? You’ve found him? He’s...where? Where? But that’s completely totalled. Oh. No.’

More muffled voices. Raised.

‘No, I’m not going to stand out here and wait. Who knows how long it’ll take them to get here? Nick or Ethan or just stand here and do nothing? What kind of a choice is that? No, just shut the hell up. Ethan’s right there and I know I can get to him, okay? He’s going to freeze to death or worse.’

Death? Wet. Black. Cold.

Foggy images flickered into Ethan’s head as he tried to stay focused. Snow? Yes, he was always in snow.

Try harder.

In a ski lodge. Somewhere? France. The world champs. Yes. Drying room. Chase. Clenched fists. An arm pulled back to swing.

He blinked and saw a tiny blue light getting bigger and in the bluish glow he saw wires hanging down. Broken beams. Part of a wall.

Shit. There’s half a wall on my leg. ‘Help! Get me out. Help! Someone!’

‘Ethan? Did you say something? Hey, don’t move, seriously, you’ll bring everything down on top of us. Stay still, okay?’

Chase Barrington again. Why him? Why him of all people?

Stay still. Stop shaking. ‘Cold.’

‘I’ve got a space blanket. It’s just hard to reach around...’ Warm air feathered across Ethan’s face and something that made a scrunching sound was shoved up against his right side. ‘Can’t get it across you, Ethan. But they won’t be long.’

‘Who?’ It was Chase talking, right?

Remember. Remember.

‘Search and Rescue. They’re coming, but there’s a blizzard...’ Chase’s voice was weird. Kind of softer than normal, which was definitely weird for a seventeen-year-old kid who was usually full of himself. ‘You have to stay awake, okay?’

‘Heavy. Chest. Stuck.’ Pain shot through his head and he wished he could rub the damned place it hurt but he couldn’t lift his hand. ‘What happened?’

‘Avalanche. Took out the lodge.’ Grunting, Chase curled into an impossibly large ball in the tiny space, pressed his feet against the rubble and bricks and broken beam and pushed. Nothing moved. ‘You’re kind of trapped.’

Ah, yes. Now it was coming back. Junior team ski trials. The lodge. A huge roar and a breeze and then he’d been falling. Then black. ‘I’m cold.’

‘I know. It’s the fricking Alps and it’s almost midnight.’ Chase laughed but it didn’t sound right. Forced. Cold. Damn, it was so cold here.

Chase grabbed at something on the ground and pushed it out of the way, shone his head torch at the ceiling and shook his head. ‘I know it hurts, but try not to think about it.’

He paused as the haunting creaking of steel broke into the night. Then a crash and a plume of dust caught in the blue light. People screaming somewhere.

Ethan’s heart pounded and he tried to move his legs to scuttle back away from the noise. But he was pinned to the floor. Get me out of here.

‘What’s happening?’

‘Just a bit of movement. It’s fine, it’s the other side of the building. Don’t panic.’ There was an edge to Chase’s voice now.

‘I’m not panicking. I’m so cold. And wet.’

‘Always moaning,’ Chase tutted, but he didn’t sound angry or hostile—which was new. ‘Here, take my hand.’

Ethan heard the scrape of a ski jacket against wood and then felt Chase’s hand close over his. The warmth made Ethan’s hand stop shaking just for a minute or so.

More loud creaks and Chase’s hand stiffened. A couple of breaths until the creaking stopped. ‘It’s okay, Ethan. Breathe.’

That was the problem...he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. ‘How long have I been in here?’

‘Seven hours? Maybe eight?’

‘So long?’ No wonder he was cold. Maybe this was just a nightmare where he was dreaming he was trapped with the guy he hated most of all in the world in a space so cramped he couldn’t breathe. Maybe he’d wake up soon. ‘Where’s everyone else?’

There was a silence long enough to make Ethan’s chest hollow out.

‘Out.’

‘Out? Thank God.’ He breathed away the dread of hearing anyone in the squad was injured or worse. ‘Everyone?’

‘All except you and... Nick. But he’s...he’s going to be fine.’ Chase’s voice did that weird soft thing again, but it also broke a little, telling Ethan that Nick wasn’t fine at all.

‘Why are you here, then, and not with him? You guys are such good mates you’re like an old married couple.’ In fact, it had been Nick they’d been arguing about outside the drying room. Same old stuff. Who was chicken, who was going to win, who was going to wipe out on the slalom. Just banter to fuel the competitive teenage aggression. That, and the fact Nick was always so damned sure of himself.

He was a shoe-in for the British junior team, and Chase and Ethan and everyone else were fighting for a place alongside him. A couple of beats passed before Chase answered. ‘Sucks, right? But until help gets here you’re going to have to put up with me. Lucky for you I’m just the right size to belly-crawl through the one tiny hole between you and the outside.’

‘Lucky? I have a wall on my legs.’ But the others were safe. That was one good thing. Not choked up in here like him. Wait...if he was lucky then did that mean Nick hadn’t been? Had Chase chosen to help him and not Nick? What the hell? His head hurt too much to make any sense of it.

‘You’re talking, that’s something.’

A sharp pain funnelled through Ethan’s lungs as he tried to inhale. It felt as if the blackness was filling him up from the inside too, stopping his breath. ‘I can’t breathe.’

‘If you can talk you can breathe.’ Chase tapped his hand. ‘When we get out of here, Reid, I’m going to whip your arse down La Sache.’

‘Yes, you will.’

‘Whoa. You always beat me down that run. Every single time. Where’s the fighting talk you like to give me? Bring it on, Reid.’

‘I can’t feel my feet.’

Silence.

Chase swore. Everyone knew a skier couldn’t ski if they couldn’t feel their damned legs. ‘Probably just the cold.’

The panic he’d thought he’d got a hold of bubbled up through Ethan’s belly to his chest. He couldn’t feel his feet or his back. He couldn’t stop shaking. There was so much ice and wetness and blackness he was suffocating with it. He wanted to breathe fresh air. He wanted to be outside. Would he ever be warm again? He gripped Chase’s hand as water seeped through his clothes. ‘I don’t want to die. Not here and not like this.’

Seventeen was way too young to die, he had a whole lot of living to do. Right?

The next moment was filled with another ominous creak and the drip, drip, drip of snow melt. Chase inhaled loudly then huffed out as their world, which had shrunk to this twisted leaning lodge, stopped moving. ‘You’re not going to die, man.’

‘Face it, I’m freezing. I’m hurting. I’m stuck in a collapsed building.’ The parts of his skin that he could feel stung with such intensity it felt as if he was on fire. ‘Is it hot in here? I’m starting to burn up. Can you take the blanket away?’

‘There is no way you can be hot, it’s probably hypothermia. Listen to me, you have to hang on. Someone’s coming to get you out.’ Chase rubbed rough hands over Ethan’s palm. He stretched and wound his arm through the tiny gap between body and wall, and rubbed Ethan’s torso, encouraging blood flow. Then over his leg. Chest. Cheeks. And then he started again at Ethan’s hand. He worked for a few minutes then murmured, ‘Don’t you ever tell anyone I did this, okay?’

‘Your secret’s safe with me.’ Time to be honest. Because if you’re going to die, then why not? ‘I’m scared.’

Ethan’s heart thumped and he fought to control himself, wishing he hadn’t said something so weak. He had to pretend he was okay, right? That he wasn’t scared. That everything was going to be fine, just as Chase had told him it would be.

Chase beat him to it. ‘So, we’re ripping it up down La Sache. It’s one of those perfect days, you know, where the sky is so cloudless and blue it’s almost as dazzling as the powder. And you’ve got your best form, right? Everything’s going perfectly—’

A deafening crash broke him off. The earth shuddered under Ethan as more of the lodge—close enough for them to feel the whip of air and backdraught—collapsed.

‘Get out, Chase. Go. Before the whole place comes down.’

But instead of retreating, Chase edged closer, holding Ethan’s hand tightly. ‘You’ve got your best form on, right? La Sache. You make three perfect turns. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoo—’

Another crash. Chase’s breathing got faster. ‘Okay. Looks like we’ve got to do something. Fast.’ Chase directed his head torch onto the beam. ‘Right. Let’s try this again.’

Turning tightly in the cramped space, he lifted his knees, pressed his feet against the broken beam and heaved. Heaved some more. ‘Anything? Any movement at all?’

‘No.’ Ethan pushed and tried to wriggle his body free, but every time Chase moved, clumps of dust and ceiling fell around them like confetti.

‘On my count...’ Chase glanced up at the ceiling, such as it was, illuminating it again, and they both saw the whole thing ripple like a wave as he moved. Any minute now the place would come down on top of them, suffocating them. ‘One. Two. Three.’

The beam shifted enough for Ethan to drag one leg free. ‘Yep. Almost.’ Another creak. ‘Go. It’s too dangerous. Leave me here. Get the hell out, I don’t need you on my conscience.’

But Chase shook his head and tightened his hold on the beam. ‘The rents are going to be so relieved when we get you out of here. Can’t wait to see their faces.’

‘My parents are here?’ Ethan knew Chase was trying to distract him from the task in hand, keeping him talking, keeping him alive.

‘Mr Wheeler said he was going to call everyone’s parents. They’re flying them all out here.’

‘Okay. Tell them...’ What to say? He doubted they’d even turn up, but just in case they did Ethan chose his last words to his parents very carefully. ‘Tell them I forgive them.’

‘I’m not passing on any message, you can tell them yourself. And there will be media too. There always are at things like this. You’re going to be famous. The boy who lived, right?’

‘And who are you? Freaking Hermione?’

‘In your dreams, Reid.’

Little falls of dust trickled over them. Outside someone was shouting at everyone to keep still.

‘Ne bouge pas. Attendez! Attendez!’

More French.

He hated French. He hated snow. He hated being trapped. He didn’t want to die.

Panicked voices. A siren. More sirens.

But Chase caught Ethan’s eye. Determination shone there as he nodded. ‘Right, let’s go again. I never thought I’d say this to you but, Ethan, I need you to work with me. Everything you’ve got, okay? Or you and I will die here and that, my man, is not the way I want to go. One. Two. Three.’

Next thing he knew Ethan was being dragged over brickwork and snow and something he didn’t even want to imagine but which felt soft and yet bony. And then he was hauling fresh air into suffocating lungs and watching the place where he’d been two seconds earlier disintegrate into rubble and dust and nothing.

And he breathed, sucking in huge gulps of air.

He breathed.

He was alive. Chase Barrington had saved him.

And that was something he’d never have believed possible.

* * *

Later, as the paramedics worked on him, he watched Chase talk to one of the newly arrived search and rescue guys. Saw the slump of his shoulders. The hand whisked across his eyes. Then his view was obliterated by a sudden convoy of vans. Tearful parents pouring out, screaming and sobbing. He craned his neck for his mother or father.

No.

As he’d imagined. He wondered what he’d have to damned well do to get their attention at all.

Then, as he was being shunted into the ambulance, Ethan saw Chase walk away from a woman, leaving her sobbing into the dark night. Ethan called out, ‘Chase! Chase.’

Chase turned and looked, then he turned away and walked into the darkness.

‘Chase!’

But then he was there. Looming up in front of him as he had in the tight, dark prison a few minutes earlier, but the bravado from before had gone. He had red rings around swollen eyes. A gruff expression. Hell, he was just a seventeen-year-old kid living a nightmare. Like me. ‘Look, Reid, I gotta go.’

Ethan held up his hand to stop the paramedic from closing the ambulance door. ‘And Nick?’

Chase shook his head and his words came out on a sob that he coughed away. ‘He didn’t...make it. That’s his mum. She’s broken. He was her only child.’

The paramedic fiddled with the drip and then said softly, ‘My count was four. I’m so sorry, buddy.’

Four dead? Four of the team? His brothers in sport, if nothing else. Ethan’s heart twisted as his gaze settled back on Chase. ‘But you told me they were safe.’

‘I told you they were out.’ Chase shrugged. Empty. His best friend had been in danger and he’d chosen to save someone else’s life. How would that make you feel? You had a chance and you didn’t take it. You bet on someone else. On the someone you didn’t even like.

‘But you made me think they were alive. I thought they were safe.’

‘You needed something to hang onto.’

And he’d hung on tight. ‘I’m so sorry about Nick. I heard the conversation. I heard you make a choice. No one should ever have to do that.’

‘You were closest.’ Chase’s face clouded, the way it did when they fought. The way it did in their stand-offs. The way it had just a few hours ago when he’d been trying to make Ethan apologise in their stupid argument. Chase’s hands fisted as he wrestled some emotion or other away. His best friend had died and maybe he could have done something to prevent that. God knew how that felt. ‘You’d better be worth it, Reid. Make it worth it.’

Judging by the way Ethan’s parents had treated him to date, and knowing what a great guy Nick had been, Ethan doubted he could ever be worth it. But this was a second chance and he was going to make the best of it. ‘I damned well will. Chase, I owe you my life. Thank you. If you ever need me, anything at all, just find me and I’ll be there for you.’

But the way Chase looked at him told Ethan that he’d never call. And, worse, that he believed he’d made the wrong choice after all.

CHAPTER ONE

FRANCE.

Not a place he’d ever thought he’d return to, and he’d done everything in his power to avoid it. But sometimes honour and duty overrode everything else, even good sense.

Dr Ethan Reid dropped his khaki holdall onto the hotel bedroom floor and chanced his luck for a minibar. After opening all the cupboards and drawers, he grunted. Seemed his luck was all out. But if he was forced to be in France he was going to drink, at least tonight, and then he’d have some chance of sleeping.

After a quick shower and change out of flight-weary clothes he took the stairs down two at a time from the eleventh floor, courting the usual looks of astonishment from anyone he passed peeking out from the generic hotel corridors at a tall, lumbering, sandy-haired and probably sandy-coated—given he’d been in Africa for the last four years—guy gunning down the stairs instead of sedately hitching a ride on the elevator. Seemed no one walked these days.

Never mind. Or, as they said around here, tant pis.

After spending years living under canvas his first instinct was to sit outside on the terrace in the fresh air as he was used to, but the thunderstorm that had threatened as his plane was landing had become a reality, so he was forced to stay in the bar. Even so, the place was quiet with just a few suited singletons dotted at the tables staring at smartphones and laptops, probably in Marseille on business given the outfits.

The end of April was too early in the season for the sun crowd, though he suspected the port city would be busy all year round. He ordered his whiskey and soda, and slumped down at the bar, trying not to engage in extended conversation with the bar staff, which left him plenty of scope to chill and get his head round being back here, in the place that still gave him nightmares.

His instructions were on his phone. He tugged it from his pocket and ran through them again with the same trepidation he’d felt the first time he’d read them. How had he agreed to this?

6.30 a.m. Orientation with Medicine For All Search and Rescue Co-ordinator Chase Barrington on the bridge of the SOS Poseidon.

7.00 a.m. Pre-launch safety briefing

7.30 a.m. Under way

So that was it. A six-week deployment to pluck refugees from the Mediterranean Sea, assess and treat those with medical needs and transport them to a receiving port.

And somehow survive.

‘Aperol spritz, s’il vous plaît.’

A woman’s voice behind him cut through his thoughts. After his initial knee-jerk disquiet at hearing the French language again he was impressed to realise he still understood it a little.

‘Merci. It’s a beautiful night. I love thunderstorms. I know...crazy.’ As she seamlessly switched from French to English she laughed, a soft sound that breathed life through the dull, stale atmosphere in the bar, and continued her conversation with...whoever. ‘Here’s to freedom, excitement. Adventure.’

A strange toast that conjured up all manner of stories in his active imagination. Curiosity getting the better of him, Ethan turned to see who the laugh belonged to and who needed all of those things. A little further along the bar was a petite woman dressed casually in contrast to the suits in a dark blue flared skirt and a navy-and-white-striped T-shirt, a dark silk scarf looped loosely round her neck and a small black leather backpack slung over one shoulder. Very chic. She had large, dark eyes and loose honey-coloured waves framing her face. Pretty too.

As if she felt him looking, her gaze sought him out. Whoa. So much more than pretty. She had the kind of face that pulled you to her, a heady charisma, eyes buzzing with energy, a generous smile, olive skin that had him thinking of cloudless skies and skinny-dipping. And now he was just getting carried away.

Glancing around the room, he noticed all the single suits watching her too.

Ethan looked away. No point getting in any deeper than one look. Tomorrow he was facing a demon or two and he had to keep his head straight. He tried to shrug off the trepidation of meeting up with Chase after all these years, and spending the next six weeks rescuing refugees. The doctoring part he could do in his sleep, but living on a ship would only add more spice to his nightmares. He looked down at the menu but the gnawing sensation in his gut had nothing to do with hunger.

She laughed.

Oh, what the hell? He chanced another look, because he couldn’t not. Something about her compelled him to take a second viewing. And there wasn’t anything else to look at in this place other than a baby grand piano that no one was playing, dark velvet drapes and that bar menu, which he’d scanned and disregarded a dozen times already.

She was talking to, but standing a little away from, a guy who had about fifteen years on her. Thin, wiry. Like a stoat. No, a weasel, in a shiny, cheap suit that was clearly tailored to bulk him up. They seemed oddly matched. Too old to be a boyfriend, too young to be a parent.

The weasel leaned in, leering. Unsteady. He had the kind of smile that was all mouth and no eyes. Greedy. He said something to her.

Her body snapped taut as she stepped back. ‘No. I’m not interested, thank you.’

Something about her reaction and the fleeting shock in her eyes had Ethan on high alert. He edged closer to listen.

Weasel guy’s empty smile kept on giving as he ran a bony finger over her hand. ‘I’m sure you are. A drink. Some fun. Maybe I just need to persuade you?’

Persuade? Nausea roiled in Ethan’s gut, he’d seen way too much fallout from men persuading women in his line of work. But this wasn’t his business. He sat back.

Sure, it wasn’t his business, but he kept a watchful eye open.

Another step back, a flick of her hair as she shook her head. ‘I said I’m not interested. Please, leave me alone.’

‘Oh, chérie. Come on, let’s have some fun.’

Knowing he beat the guy hands down on height and strength and definitely smarts, Ethan walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. When the weasel wheeled round and looked up at Ethan he gulped. Swallowed. Paled.

Ethan stepped into his face. ‘She said leave her alone. So do it. When a woman says no, she means no. And even when a woman says yes to a guy like you, she means no. Okay?’

‘I wasn’t trying anything.’ The man raised palms slick with a sweaty sheen. ‘Just being friendly.’

Ethan shook his head. ‘No. It’s not friendly, it’s creepy. And you’re not trying a thing, mate, because you’re leaving.’

‘Okay. Okay. I get it.’ The wiry man shook his head back, imitating Ethan. Then he nodded sharply to the woman. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Merci.’ The woman breathed out as the weasel disappeared out the door. ‘But I was handling it.’

‘I know you were, but I also know men like him. It’s just easier if we outnumber them.’

‘We?’ Her eyebrows lifted. ‘For a minute there I thought you were going to play the part of my boyfriend. You know how it goes... Hi, honey, sorry I’m late. Big bisous. That would have given him a definite hint to leave too.’

‘Big kisses.’ There was a thought. A highly inappropriate thought given the circumstances. He caught her eye again and this time she looked away, two red spots blooming on her cheeks. He reached for an excuse to make her smile again because he liked it when she did that. ‘Just checking my French. For a minute I thought you said bison. And I wondered if it was normal in France for a boyfriend to bring buffalo along to a date.’

‘Buffalo are great on dates, don’t you do that in England? You’re all so weird over there. Yes, bisous means kisses.’ As she laughed, her gaze settled on his mouth and that stoked something deep in his gut. Then she was back to eye contact again. ‘Your French is good.’

‘I’m very rusty, it’s been a long time since I was in France.’ Not long enough. ‘Your English is far better.’

‘My mother is English. French father.’ She drained the luminous orange drink and put the glass on the bar. ‘Okay, Monsieur Knight-in-Shining-Armour, that’s me done. Time for bed, I’m heading up to my room. Thanks again for rescuing me when I didn’t need it.’

‘Hey, any time you don’t need rescuing, I’m your guy. I’ll walk with you to the lift to make sure he’s gone.’ He kept a healthy distance but caught the fresh scent of coconut and hibiscus. She smelt good. She looked good. She made him laugh. In another life he might have made a move. But not tonight. She looked too sweet to want what he could give her; which was a one-night stand and nothing more.

As they reached the lift she nodded goodbye politely to him, stopped and pressed the button and he headed towards the stairwell door. Which didn’t move when he pushed it. He pushed again. No. No movement. He heaved his right shoulder against it, but no. ‘Strange. It can’t be locked. It’s a fire door.’

‘Maybe there’s something leaning against it on the other side? Or perhaps it’s jammed?’ The woman called to him. ‘The lift’s on its way down. Hop in.’

‘No, thank you.’ He tried the shoulder heave again. No dice.

A ping. ‘Quick. Going up. Come on.’ She ran over, tugged his hand. Tugged again and laughed. That soft sound had his gut contracting. He gave one last long look at the closed fire exit door and shrugged. It was just an elevator. It would be a matter of seconds, a minute at most, and he’d be on his way to bed.

It was just an ancient elevator with one of those concertina doors that he’d seen in black and white movies. As he tugged the heavy lattice across she asked him, ‘Floor?’

He controlled his raging heartbeat. It was just a damned elevator. ‘Eleven. Please.’

‘Oh. Same.’ Her gaze snagged his and she smiled as if there was some meaning there. ‘Funny coincidence.’

He didn’t believe in coincidences. ‘At least there isn’t any muzak playing, like the Beatles on strings or some such crime against our eardrums.’

Filling his lungs with as much oxygen as he could, he fixed his eye on the green LED display.

‘Lifts aren’t your thing?’ There was laughter in her voice. ‘Or is it the music you don’t like?’

‘I prefer stairs, that’s all.’ He couldn’t be in here and do small talk and breathe all at the same time.

Floor One.

She tapped her foot. She was wearing flat black shoes with a little bow on the front. Like something a ballerina would have. It was amazing to see something so dainty. Most of the women he’d spent time with over the last few years had worn hiking boots or had bare feet. It was weird being here with no dust, and with regular things like reliable electricity and running water, clean clothes. Elegant shoes. A beautiful woman who smelt of fruit and flowers instead of dry dust and sweat. A body that looked fit from exercise but not too much. Just enough curves that in that fictional other life where he’d consider making a move, he’d relish exploring. Her hair shone and was shot through with wisps of gold and light.

And, man, he really needed to get to floor eleven before he got carried away on pointless poetics which were so unlike him he forced himself to do a quick reality check.

France. Lift. Tomorrow. Which was enough to send any wayward thoughts scuttling back to where they’d come from.

Floor Two

‘So why is a knight in Marseille? Business? Holiday?’ she asked, her smile refreshingly open and unguarded.

‘Business.’ If he said out loud what he was here for it might actually make it real, and he wanted to live in the blissful pretence that he wasn’t going to set foot on a ship tomorrow and meet up with a ghost from years ago. ‘You?’

Floor Three

‘An adventure, actually.’ Her eyes lit up, her dark brown irises dilating a little. Whatever she was going to do in Marseille, she was certainly looking forward to it.

Floor Four

‘Ah, yes. How did it go? Freedom, adventure, excitement?’

‘Oh! You heard me?’ She pressed her lips together and chuckled again.

Floor Five

He nodded. ‘It sounds intriguing. Have you just been released from prison or something?’

Her hand hovered over her mouth. ‘I can see how it could have sounded like that. Yes, I’m a mysterious, elusive thief who’s just escaped from gaol.’

‘If you were elusive you wouldn’t be in gaol, or telling me about it.’ She was good value, that was for sure. A woman who didn’t take herself too seriously. A delicious distraction.

‘Good point—Oh!’ The elevator jerked sharply and she grabbed his arm to steady herself. There was a weird thumping sound. The gate rattled. A bump. Another jerk. Then...nothing. No sound. No movement. Nothing.

Floor Six

Kind of. Maybe? Who knew? Just an elevator. Breathe.

Her hand was still on his arm and he realised he didn’t want her to let go, not just yet. She turned her face up to him, eyes still lit by excitement. ‘A power outage? Must be the storm. It happens. In France.’

‘It happens everywhere.’ So much for reliable electricity. And why she was excited by this he couldn’t fathom.

‘At least the light is still on, that’s something.’ But her smile faded as the bulb flickered and fizzed and died. ‘Wait, wait...damn.’

Was it him or was it hard to breathe right now?

‘Hang on.’ He slid his phone out of his pocket and flicked on the torch. An eerie glow lit the tiny space and he fought back the memories that still walked through his dreams.

Broken walls, bare wires, the weight and the pain.

Her grip on his arm was a little tighter now. Maybe she had a thing about lifts. He needed to show her that it would be fine. He covered her hand with his and looked into her eyes, trying to ignore the little fizz of electricity that shot over his skin at that slight touch. Geez, what would his body’s reaction be to something more intense, like kissing her? Getting naked?

And that was such an inappropriate thought that he let go of her hand. ‘It’s going to be okay, we just need to get it going again.’

All would be fine. He hammered a fist on the number eleven button. Then on the gate. Then back to the eleven. Eight. One.

‘Hey, are you all right?’ She touched his back, making him pause.

Not wanting to look too deep inside himself, he busied himself with pressing the red security button. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Sure. Me too. I love getting stuck in lifts.’

‘We’re not stuck.’

‘Okay. I love getting not stuck with a man who wants to not rescue me. Too many nots.’ She put her hand to the back of her neck and moved her head from side to side, as if soothing the knots there too.

‘No one’s answering, I don’t think the help button is working. There’s usually a phone somewhere.’ He stabbed at a metal plate on the wall. It swung open, revealing a loose wire hanging over a shelf where a phone had once been. Little beads of sweat pricked the back of his neck.

‘No phone. Tant pis. I’ll use mine. Call the manager. Bring your light over here so I can see.’ She tapped her phone. Twice. Two little lines appeared on her forehead. ‘No signal. Looks like we’ll just have to wait. I’m sure it won’t be long.’ She slid to the floor and pulled him to sit next to her, but not before he’d put his phone in the metal box where the real phone should have been. A shaft of pale light hit the far corner and the rest of the elevator was shadows. ‘By the way, my name is Claire.’

‘Ethan.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Ethan. I’m a...’ She grinned and bit her bottom lip. ‘What am I, if I’m not a thief? What could I be? I always wanted to be a singer in a rock band, but I can’t sing a note. Or a ribbon acrobat, but I’m not keen on heights. Who should I be today?’ She thought for a moment. ‘I know, I’m a princess of a small principality. I have wealth beyond measure but I work endlessly to help people less fortunate than me. You?’

‘I’m not a princess, no.’

That sparkling laugh again. Heat suffused his skin. He’d never found a woman’s laughter particularly sexy before but hers had a direct line to his groin. ‘Play the game, Ethan. Come on. You don’t know me at all so you can pretend, make something up, be anything you want to be. How would I ever know the truth? Let your imagination wander. Hmm... I know, you’re a dashing knight who likes to drive racing cars. Very fast. Very rich. From...somewhere exotic. You have that look about you. From...?’

‘England, actually.’

‘No. Play the game. How about Monte Carlo? Somewhere fabulously rich where they won’t let you live unless you have at least thirty million in the bank.’

‘I’m not big on games, Claire.’ Unable to just sit there, he powered back up the wall and hammered on the gate, managing to stop himself from shouting because that wouldn’t get them anywhere.

‘Why not?’ At his silence she said, ‘I’m just trying to distract you from the fact we really are stuck in a lift and no one seems to be rushing to our aid.’

‘I don’t need you to distract me. I’m not a child. It’s just a damned elevator.’ If he said it enough he’d believe it.

‘Don’t waste your energy banging and cursing. If the electric’s out, we’ll be here until it’s fixed.’ Her hand snaked into his and she tugged him back down next to her. ‘Tell me, why does a man insist on taking the stairs, and get frustrated when he can’t? Why does he hesitate to get into a lift with a woman he’s having fun with?’

‘Maybe I just wanted some exercise.’ Ethan shuddered. How could she see through him? It was unnerving. ‘Maybe I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable after that creep was coming on to you.’

‘And maybe there’s a lot more to your story, but you clearly don’t want to talk about it.’

‘No, I don’t.’

She shrugged. ‘So now you do want to play the game. A mystery man who doesn’t like broken lifts.’

Hot damn, why did he feel a need to explain? ‘It’s a normal, natural reaction to being trapped. I’d prefer it if we weren’t at the mercy of mechanical things.’

‘You’ve had a bad experience in one before?’

‘Something like that. A long time ago. I was stuck under a collapsed building.’ He breathed out. He’d never said anything about this to anyone in over fifteen years and yet here he was saying this to a stranger. Maybe it was easier to say these kinds of things to someone you knew you were never going to see again, who wouldn’t call you out on the fact that sometimes you got a little jittery in a tin box. That just happened to be broken. ‘It took a few hours to get me out. Other people died. I was lucky.’

Lucky. Yeah, he should be grateful for the nightmares—at least he got to wake up. But grateful wasn’t the emotion he generally experienced, not when guilt fitted him like a second skin.

She put her hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I don’t even know what to say to that. It must have been so frightening.’

Understatement of the year. He blew out a slow breath. ‘Yes, well, as I said, it was a long time ago. I’d prefer it if we changed the subject.’

‘You want to forget it. I understand.’ A beat. Two. Then her sing-song voice again. ‘Hey, do you want a drink? I have a secret stash.’ She dug into her bag and pulled out a silver hip flask, unscrewed the top and took a drink. Coughed. Wiped the top with her palm and handed the flask to him. ‘It could be a long night so we might as well make it a good one. Luckily my papa knows his cognac.’

‘Yup.’ Ethan enjoyed the burning sensation sliding down his throat and he felt some of the tension ease. ‘You’re the kind of person I’d like to be stuck with on a desert island.’

‘You’re the kind of person I’m enjoying being stuck with in the lift. And, for the record, you don’t make me feel uncomfortable at all.’ She looked at him through wisps of hair that he ached to touch. Then she smiled and it was so uninhibited and free that something in his chest expanded.

She made him feel hot and a damned sight less stressed. Awareness flared through him as he tried to find words that weren’t filled with innuendo. That wasn’t who he was or what she needed so he tried to get the conversation on to safer territory. ‘Good to hear. And, yes, I’m from England but I’ve been working in Africa for years.’

‘Ah. That explains the tan. You like it there? I’ve never been but I’m pretty sure I’ll get there one day. Some of those places sound amazing.’

‘It’s perfect for me.’ Not wanting to tarnish the romantic image she clearly had of the place, he didn’t mention the work he did there. ‘So what’s this adventure you’re embarking on?’

‘Oh, nothing too major.’ But her grin told him otherwise. ‘I’m running away to sea.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘WHAT THE HELL...?’ Ethan almost choked on his second mouthful of brandy. He’d expected her to say a holiday or a new job, not something so...out there. Plus, the prospect of going to sea seemed to excite her whereas the thought of stepping on that ship tomorrow filled him with dread. Given what he knew of her so far, she could probably make watching paint dry sound like an adventure, but then she was most likely sailing the Med on one of those super-yachts, or a cruise round the Greek islands. She was ethereal, unreal, a dream. A fun-loving, beautiful, laughter-filled dream. ‘Why would you choose to do that?’

‘I’ve just had a lucky escape from a crappy relationship with a man who made a million promises and then let me down on every single one of them. We had everything worked out—the wedding, our future, how many kids we were going to have and at what intervals. And it’s gone. All gone. Pouf!’ She brought her fingertips to her lips and blew out, splaying her fingers. ‘When I looked at what had happened to us I realised we’d been so caught up in the mundane we’d kind of lost all the fun. So I’m grabbing my freedom with both hands, doing things I’ve only ever dreamed of doing. Kind of like a bucket list, but not because I’m dying, because I’m living. Starting again. My girlfriends made me write it as therapy to get over him. I was, like, how do I want my life to look? Who do I want to be?’

‘What’s on the list?’

‘Run away to sea. Get a tattoo. Drink kava in Fiji. Swim with sharks. Blah-blah...the usual things.’

Oh, yes, he’d heard it all before. Many of the volunteers he worked with had come to the refugee camps because of their own bucket lists. Whereas he’d started doing the voluntary work precisely because he liked not having lists, not being tied to anything or anyone or any place. ‘So I’m guessing being stuck in a lift with a stranger isn’t on there?’

‘Dance with a stranger is there, but getting stuck with one never crossed my mind. Maybe it should have.’

‘Maybe it should.’ Possibilities ran through his head—kisses, his hands in her hair. Her up against the wall. Something hot bloomed in his gut.

‘And there’s bigger things too, like grasping opportunities, taking risks. I was always too scared to step outside my comfort zone, but here I am.’ Her eyes brightened, shimmering with life and excitement, and he couldn’t look away. God, she was breath-taking in every way; beautiful, sexy as hell, seriously funny.

‘Here you are. I hope they get the lift working soon so you don’t miss your boat.’ He hoped they got the lift working soon, period.

‘It’s not leaving until tomorrow.’ She shrugged, but her gaze caught his and the awareness tightened and tugged. ‘We have all night, Mr Knight.’

‘Looks like we do.’

‘Can I tell you a secret?’ She leaned closer and he wasn’t sure who held whose hand first, fitting fingers together, skin sliding over skin. Him? Her? Both at the same time? Awareness turned into an urgent need, as if all his nerve endings were heightened and sensitive to her touch. This dream was getting real and for the first time in his life he wasn’t praying it would end.

He stroked her palm. What were they doing? Don’t ask questions. They were consenting adults. ‘Sure, tell me your secrets, Claire.’

She smiled coyly. ‘I’m a fake really. I might sound as if I’ve got it all sorted, but I’m wobbling. I feel as if I’m walking—running even—on a tightrope and there’s no safety net. The girls said it’d be fun to have an adventure and I’m trying to work out whether I’m wildly excited or whether the bubbles in my gut are made from pure terror.’

‘Sometimes it’s the same thing. Two sides of the same coin. Here...’ He pulled her to standing and positioned her in one corner of the lift. The space was so damned cramped. He fought the rising sensation in his gut. It’s just an elevator. They’d be out of here soon. He wasn’t pinned down. He wasn’t trapped. He wasn’t staring death in the face. He was looking at the prettiest women he’d seen in a long time and thinking about kissing her. He wasn’t going to let his stupid panic take over. He would take a leaf out of her book and just fake it.

So he took her hands in his and started to walk backwards across the floor. ‘Walk with me. I’ve got you. Right now. Just don’t look down. You can do this.’

She took his lead and put one foot in front of the other gingerly, as if she really was walking on a thin rope. ‘I’m scared.’

‘You can do this.’ His grip tightened and she squeezed back.

‘I can do this.’ She laughed, looking about as far from scared as anyone could be. She pretended to look down and to wobble. ‘Uh-uh.’

He pulled her to him, anchoring her against his chest, nuzzling into those luscious curls. Her delicious scent stoked the unfurling need in his gut. He wanted to kiss her. To strip away those layers and find the real Claire underneath this act.

For a few seconds they stayed crushed together, holding on as if neither wanted to let go. Then she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back and fitted herself into his arms. She leaned her head against his chest and then swayed slowly.

‘You want to share the tune?’ He laughed into hair that smelt of lemons. ‘Because I can’t hear a thing.’

‘Something slow.’ For a few moments she swayed and smiled, her head tilted against his jaw as her hands stroked across his back and over his arms. Then she pulled away slightly and looked up at him, hands locked on his biceps. As she gazed up her eyes misted with need. The atmosphere in the lift crackled and pulsed. She put her cool palm to his cheek, then ran soft feathery fingertips across his lips. His gut contracted with need.

‘Dance with a stranger; I can tick that off now. Tell me, Ethan, are you married? In a relationship?’ she whispered, even though there was no one else to hear her. ‘Are you the kind of guy who would cheat?’

‘No, no, and definitely, no.’

‘Good.’ Closing her eyes, she pressed his lips against her fingertips, the pressure on his mouth tantalising, excruciatingly sexy. He could feel her breath coming fast and soft. The scent of hibiscus filled the air. ‘Then, yes, yes, and definitely, yes.’

Torn by his warring conscience and the sharp tang of desire, he groaned and fisted his hand in her hair.

So close. So close.

Swallowing hard, he tugged her hand from his mouth. Geez. Any guy would think he was an idiot for stopping kissing a beautiful woman who wanted him. ‘Claire, what are you doing?’

Her eyes flickered open and she smiled. ‘I’m kissing you. I’m taking a risk and I like the way it makes me feel. I like you. You want to take a risk too?’

Hell, yes. He didn’t need to ask her to clarify, the intent was there in the way she pressed against him and in the thick need in her voice. Words seemed to have got lost between his brain and his mouth, but he dredged them up, because he had to make sure she understood. ‘You need to know that tomorrow I’m gone. I’m not... reliable.’ He broke things apart rather than built them up. But he wasn’t a saint either. ‘I’m not going to make a million promises and break them. I can’t promise you anything at all.’

‘Good. I don’t want promises.’ If she’d been paying attention, Claire would have noticed the way admiration had tucked itself into a corner of her heart. He wasn’t going to break her because she wasn’t going to let him or give him the chance to. He wasn’t going to break her, but he was going to kiss her. And hopefully more if she could convince him. Because from what she knew of him already, he was a good honest man, unused to being seduced in a lift.

As if she did this kind of thing every day! The cognac had taken the edge off her nerves and she could barely believe the words coming out of her mouth. But if she was going to be the person she wanted to be—which was independent, self-actualising and free—then she had to start making changes. This was as good a first step as any.

Besides, the guy clearly hated confined spaces, so she was just doing her civic duty by distracting him, right?

She looked up into beautiful eyes that were denim blue and hazy with lust. Lit by the white light of his phone, he looked like something she’d dreamed up—tall and toned, gorgeous strawberry-blond unruly hair and two days’ growth on his jaw that she wanted to scrape her skin against.

He wasn’t cocky or arrogant, but the very act of pushing her unwanted admirer away and then walking away himself—no come-on, no smart moves—had made her heart trip and her imagination run riot. Who was he? Why had they held hands not once, twice, but three times? Why had his first touch made heat pool low in her gut? How could a man make her feel so sexy when she barely knew him?

‘You can be my first adventure. I don’t want to know anything more than your name: Ethan, the racing driver.’ She took his phone and killed the torch app, throwing them into a sensual muted darkness.

‘Claire.’ He powered her back against the wall. He may have been chivalrous, but he definitely knew what he wanted. ‘You want to show me some of your acrobatic moves now?’

‘Kiss me first.’

Claire Durand! Asking so blatantly. Her friends would be proud. The first touch of his mouth was scorching. There was no hesitation, no gentle learning. He was exactly what she needed. This kiss was what she craved, the hot, sweet stroke of his tongue turning her limbs almost to liquid, the press of his hand on her face, then her throat, then her breast.

She ran her hands round his neck, breathing in the scent of fresh air and something exotic.

He slid his hand under her bra and stroked her nipple. ‘You like that?’

‘Yes.’ She was so turned on she could barely manage to speak. Any minute now the lift could start. Any minute now they’d have to stop. She didn’t want him to stop.

He breathed against her neck. ‘Any other items on your list?’

‘This.’ Running her hand over his jeans, she felt the outline of his erection. ‘Sex with a stranger. I didn’t write that, Marianne did.’

‘I like Marianne. She sounds like a good sort.’ He drew back, ran his hand up her thigh, making her laugh and squirm. His fingers played with the lace edging on her panties, making her writhe against him. ‘But I like you a whole lot more.’

‘I like you too.’ With a flick of her fingers she had his zip down and then she had his length in her hand. He was so hard. For her. To know she’d made him like that made her feel powerful, strong and almost unbearably turned on.

Kissing him hard, she barely noticed as he tugged her panties down. As she stroked his erection he groaned curse words at her throat, intensifying her need.

‘Do you have a condom, my knight?’

‘Here.’ Discarding his jeans, he reached into a pocket, unwrapped the condom and sheathed himself in a matter of seconds, though it felt long enough to drive her crazy with longing. Then he lifted her to sit on a rail she hadn’t even noticed was there, cupping her bottom with strong hands. ‘You sure about this?’

‘Yes, but space is limited.’ She felt his back ripple with what she imagined must be anticipation, but she wasn’t so sure. ‘Now’s the time for the show and tell acrobatics.’ She curled her leg round his waist and tugged him closer. His erection was tantalisingly close, nudging against her opening. ‘I want you to know I don’t usually do this.’

His forehead was against hers. ‘Neither do I. Never.’

‘It’s just... I want you. I don’t even understand why. I just do.’ She couldn’t explain it, didn’t want to understand why she’d been attracted to him the second she’d seen him. Lust at first sight. And more...there was a lot about him that intrigued her. She just knew she wanted him. Now. She took his hand and encouraged him to lift her other leg around his hips. ‘Please.’

He nudged into her, pausing briefly for her to open for him. His words were like a balm on her throat. ‘To freedom.’

‘Yes. More.’ Her mind misted with him. His smell, his touch. This stranger. This man. She wanted his hands and his kisses all over her skin. She wanted him deep inside her.

He palmed her breast, stoking hot need. ‘Excitement.’

‘Amen to that,’ she sighed. ‘More. More.’

He thrust again and again. ‘Adventure.’

‘God, yes.’ And, heck, what an adventure this was. She had never felt so alive, so carefree, so beautiful.

His rhythm kicked up and as he pushed inside her over and over he kissed her thoroughly until she was moaning for more, feeling him pulse higher and faster, then lose control, taking her with him.

* * *

A distant rumbling had her coming to her senses. Breathless and satiated, she lowered herself to the floor.

A bump and a shudder. She grasped his arm, her limbs limp. ‘What was that?’

What the hell had she just done?

He wrapped her close and held her steady, pressing soft kisses over her mouth, her nose, her throat. ‘Electricity.’

‘And then some.’ She breathed out, tried to slow her raging heartbeat.

A thump. Another bump. The whirr of electricity. A jolt and they were on the move again. He pressed his forehead against hers and laughed. ‘Did the earth move or was that just the lift starting up?’

‘Both?’ She laughed with him. The fun was in the risk, not just in the man. At least she hoped it was, because there was something about him that called to her. Something that connected with her on a deeper level than random elevator sex.

Floor Seven

Her heart thumped hard as she retrieved her panties and stuffed them in her bag. Ask him to stay the night.

But then she might want him to stay for longer. He’d said no promises.

He had skin that had been kissed long and thoroughly by sunshine. He smelt of exotic lands and he would return there, she knew. A man like him couldn’t be caged by a relationship. She’d lose him to the heat and the sun and the swirl of sand.

He quickly dressed as she straightened down her skirt, ran her hand over her hair...but he was there too, running a palm over her cheek, distracting her, mesmerising her. Caring for her. She ignored the clutch in her throat. ‘Perfect timing all round, I think.’

Floor Eight

Ask me to stay the night.

‘Perfect.’ He tilted her chin and slid his mouth over hers again. He tasted so sweet and hot, of brandy and kisses and a fantasy, and a small part of her wished...

No wishes. Freedom. Excitement. Adventure.

Floor Nine

The doors pinged open and she jumped away from Ethan. The hotel manager dragged the gate open then made a show of bowing and clasping his hands. ‘Je suis désolé. So sorry for the inconvenience. Electric. Thunder. Kaput.’

‘Merci beaucoup. Ce n’est rien.’ It’s nothing. She chanced a glance at Ethan, who was trying hard not to laugh. ‘No inconvenience at all.’

What had they just done?

How had they gone from a simple conversation to the most sensual sex in her life? It was as if there had been some sort of weird inexplicable force pushing them together. Or it might just have been the Aperol.

She sneaked a look at him and her heart slipped into tachycardia. He really was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, all mysterious and a little pent up. How interesting it would be if she could spend more time peeling those emotional layers away, but it had been fun to help him unwind; he certainly looked a lot more relaxed now. Smiling, she tried to get rid of the hotel manager as quickly as possible.

A million apologies and handshakes later she was alone once more with Ethan.

Floor Ten

Say something.

Floor Eleven

The gates rattled closed behind them and he slipped an arm around her shoulder. ‘You want a nightcap?’

Yes. And whatever that led to. Every part of her craved more of his touch and it would be so easy to take him up on his offer, but she couldn’t let herself do this. No more. It was over before it had begun. It had to be. She was starting a new life of independence and the last thing she needed or wanted was to fall for a man who could take that away from her and then leave her with nothing but a smashed heart. She’d been there before and there was no way she was going back.

Claire was going forward.

She took a deep breath and gave the only possible answer. ‘No, thank you. I’ve got a big day tomorrow.’

‘We could just sleep.’

‘Somehow I doubt that.’ Images of waking up to that mouth and that body had more heat swirling round her veins. She tugged out from under his arm but tiptoed back to kiss his cheek. ‘I want this to be my perfect memory. Just this. I don’t want morning breath or regret. I don’t want things to be awkward over breakfast or to sneak out in the early hours as if what we’d done was somehow shameful. I don’t want to ruin this with mundanities or disappointment.’

‘That would never happen. Not after one night. I don’t think you and disappointment could be in the same sentence, Claire.’

You don’t know my ex. ‘I’m not taking that chance. But thank you, that was amazing. I have a very nice memory to take away with me to sea.’ Her smile spread through her body. God, this take-charge thing was a really positive boost to her confidence. Tonight she was amazing Claire. Tomorrow she was going to try to emulate that in her new job, in her new life, where she knew there’d be no chance of losing her heart. ‘Goodnight, good knight.’

‘I never thought I’d enjoy being stuck in a lift but I certainly did.’ Ethan grinned, although the smile looked as if he wanted more too. More sex, more of her. More of her. She liked the way that made her feel, that there were men out there who wanted her. Sexy men. Strangers. Ethan... Who was he really? Who was the man who could melt her with one look? Her heart contracted and she wondered...another time, another life? No. Don’t spoil it with wishes. One last smile from his sexy mouth. ‘Goodnight, Claire. Have a good adventure.’

‘I intend to.’ I just did.

Mentally fist pumping, Claire smiled to herself as she slid her key card into the slot and crept into her dark hotel room.

Day one of her new life. Freedom, excitement. Adventure.

Mission accomplished.

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