Fired Waitress, Hired Mistress. Robyn Grady
the set of his jaw and refocusing eyes said he’d remembered where they were.
Oh, but this couldn’t end now. What were a couple of scratches compared to the chance to truly escape and float on cloud nine?
Her arm still around his neck, she tugged. “I’m perfectly fine—honest.”
His chin kicked up a notch. “You don’t know how much I’d like to believe that.”
Her fingers filed up through the back of his hair. “Believe it.”
He set his forehead upon hers. “I’m afraid this, my dear, is not the time.”
She pouted. “Really?”
“Really, really.”
Sorry. She couldn’t accept it. Her hand snaked down and she drew a suggestive circle around his right nipple, smiling when the disc hardened beneath her touch.
Folding her hand up in his, he pressed his warm lips to the palm. “Doctor first. Advanced introductions later.”
“Maybe one more quick hello?”
He laughed, a gorgeous black velvet sound she would never tire of hearing. This guy had it all. Looks, charm, Herculean strength. Sure, he was a little overconfident, but, given the circumstances, after that kiss, she could find it in her heart to forgive him.
“Later,” he confirmed, and cocked an enquiring brow. “Maybe over dinner?”
Nina’s expression dissolved into a walking-on-air smile.
Fate was so unpredictable. A couple of months ago she’d had the next ten years mapped out—work her way up the magazine industry ladder and ultimately secure a spot on a top international rag overseas. By that time Jill would have met the guy of her dreams and Codie would be a real little man. One day Nina had hoped to find her soul mate—someone who truly understood and respected her.
Then her life had landed in a dumpster.
From heiress to editor to wayward waitress. What came next?
When her Galahad sprang to his feet and dusted himself off, Nina sighed. The most amazing few minutes of her life were over. But there was always dinner tonight.
Or was there?
The clientele here seemed oblivious to everything other than their own over-inflated issues and comfort. They lived to compare carats over a leisurely back rub or two. Was this man cut from that same cloth? How would he react when he found out he’d been making love to the hired help?
And, if that wasn’t enough to dampen those dinner plans, there was always the resort’s staunchest staff rule. No socialising with guests. Ever.
His shadow crept over her a second before his strong arms scooped beneath her shoulders and knees. Jolted back, she pushed against his chest. “What are you doing?”
“We’ve had this discussion.”
“I’m not sure we came to any decision.” None that she’d been happy with.
“If memory serves, you called me a caveman, I beat my chest, and the matter was settled. Now, we need to hurry. Rain’s on the way.”
Folding her arms over her waist, she tried to weigh herself down—not that she wasn’t heavy enough. Nevertheless, he swooped her effortlessly up.
His white teeth flashed. “Light as a feather.”
Uh-huh? Veins were already popping at his temples. She could sense the strain in his arms. Why-oh-why had she taken that slab of chocolate torte back to her room last night?
“Put your arms around my neck,” he ordered.
“So you’re intent on doing this?” Giving yourself a hernia.
His response was a sexy wry smile.
She held his gaze, then finally exhaled. He was implacable. What choice did she have? She only hoped he didn’t keel over from a coronary before he’d finished saving her.
She was securing her arms around his hot neck when a light bulb went off in her head. “Hey, I’ve had another thought. You could make a tray out of a big banana leaf and pull me along. Like a snow sled, only on sand.”
His eyes narrowed even as he smiled. “No bananas growing here.”
“Well, you must have a cellphone. You could call for the helicopter to chopper me out. We could make a giant X on the beach with driftwood so they know where to land, and—”
Her words were cut off when his mouth took hers. And just like that the magic was in full swing again, drifting over her like tingling confetti as his kiss worked its spell and he urged her against his granite-like frame.
She dissolved into him. Melted completely. Of its own volition a hand wandered to the centre of his hard chest, fanned over the rock of a pec, then sailed higher, tracking the topography of the bulging cords in his neck, the sandpaper bristle of his firm square jaw. Only when his mouth left hers did the fog partly lift and she realised.
It was sprinkling rain.
Lifting her face, Nina blinked as another drop hit her cheek, then her arm. When he looked up too, as if waving a green flag, the rain came down in earnest.
She let go a shriek. Could her poor body take another beating?
But, while the rain fell in buckets, the water felt soft and revitalising on her skin. Perhaps it was her near brush with death, the lingering effects of that better-than-bliss kiss, or the fact that for the first time in weeks she felt truly free, but a jet of abandon surged up from her centre and a bubble of laughter escaped. Going with impulse, she shut her eyes and tilted back her head. When she opened her mouth wide, sweet rain filled her throat.
She gulped twice, three times, then, through the gauzy mist of rain, searched out his eyes.
Streams were coursing down his ruggedly handsome face, running off the tip of his nose. He studied her, his head slanted, before a crooked smile broke and he rocked back his neck as she had done. Laughing again, she joined him, and as he held her beneath the opened sky, she felt their strength restored.
Some quenching moments later he shook his head, like a dog after a bath, then near shouted over the water clattering through the layers of thirsty foliage behind them.
“We need shelter.”
From beneath sodden lashes, she cast a glance around. The sea had darkened and whipped up too, each slate-green crest rising ever higher before smashing on the shore. The evocative scent of fresh rainfall seemed to rise off the earth’s every pore. No birds in the sky, no tiny soldier crabs scurrying over the sand…every thing seemed hidden away, as if nature had called a time out.
As the rain fell harder still, he took matters into his own hands—but he didn’t charge north towards the resort. Rather he headed inland, weaving with precise guerrilla-like movements through a break in the bush.
“Cover your face,” he called as he strode through the underbrush.
She did as he asked and protected herself. “Where are we going?”
Was there a cave close by?
But he didn’t answer, and she didn’t push. Curling into him, making herself small against the branches lashing by, once again she put her faith in this remarkable man.
Finally his gait slowed, and she was jolted when his shoulder crashed against something hard. Then the rain stopped, although she still heard it…
Thrashing on a roof?
Gingerly she uncovered her face and swiped sopping hair from her eyes, in time to see him kick a crude-looking door shut. The noise of the rain outside was cut off and they were alone, dripping puddles at the inside entrance of what looked to be a cabin—boxy, barely furnished, and located in the middle of the island’s dense tropical forest.
He