Caught In A Storm Of Passion. Lucy Ryder
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looked so insulted that he should suggest such a thing that his breath escaped in a loud whoosh. He wasn’t entirely sure why her reaction relieved him—for all he knew she could be lying. And boy did he have enough experience with that!
Slipping his hand beneath her armpit, he rose, drawing her to her feet. She instantly sagged against him, legs wobbly as a newborn calf. Instead of pushing her away he drew her closer, enjoying her soft, warm scent and the feel of her plump breasts against his naked chest.
Realizing what he was doing, he quickly backed out of the stall and led her to the counter, shoving her into a chair while he ripped paper towels from the dispenser. He gave the tap a vicious little twist and thrust the wad into the stream of water that appeared.
What the hell was that? Maybe the heat was affecting him too, because no way could he be attracted to her. Not only was she a big-city woman, she was almost his sister, for cripes’ sake.
Well, her sister was. Which was the same thing. Wasn’t it?
His breath whooshed out. Hell.
He turned to find her watching him with those solemn golden-syrup eyes and felt his gut clench with something hot and wild. Something along the lines of golden syrup and...and acres of soft naked skin.
The reaction shook him.
Realizing he was standing there like an idiot, he tore his gaze away, feeling the tips of his ears burn. She was the last person he wanted to feel anything for. Which just went to show that abstinence made people crazy.
Hoping to restore his IQ, he thrust the dripping mess of paper in her direction and eyed her out of the corner of his eyes.
“If you’re a doctor, what the hell are you doing in the South Pacific dressed like...that?” He waved his arm, sending drops of water flying. “That’s an open invitation to dehydration and heat exhaustion.”
She eyed the sodden mass for a couple beats before lifting her gaze, her expression rife with annoyance and maybe her opinion of his medical skills.
It wasn’t in the least complimentary. So why the hell did Chase feel his lips twitch?
There was nothing amusing about this. Nothing at all. And he certainly wasn’t attracted to her. No way. She was too uptight for his liking, and she literally vibrated with exhaustion and impatience.
After a couple more beats she sighed and rose shakily to her feet. Taking the towels from him, she sagged weakly against the counter, where she dumped the sloppy mess and reached for the dispenser.
“Maybe because I was on my way to a conference in London when I got a very disturbing message about my sister getting married to a man she’s only just met. A loser who’s probably taking advantage of her right this minute. And,” she added, sending him a look in the mirror that questioned the size of his brain, “in case you think everyone lives in perpetual summer, the northern hemisphere is experiencing a season called winter. I left Boston in freezing rain and landed in a London blizzard.”
“Well, that—” he gestured rudely to her once-snazzy outfit, outraged by the nasty quip about his brother “—will have to go, or you’ll be fainting on me every five minutes.” Jude wasn’t the kind of guy to take advantage of women, more like the other way around.
She made a growling sound in the back of her throat and her narrowed gaze snapped up to lock on his in the mirror. Her expression didn’t bode well for his continued good health.
He barely managed to cover his grin with another frown.
Dammit. What the hell was wrong with him?
“I did not faint,” she said slowly, precisely. As though he was a few bricks short of a wall.
He snorted, beginning to enjoy himself. “Could have fooled me.”
Her eyes narrowed further. “I never faint. Anyway, why do you care? It’s not like we’re ever going to see each other again after I fly out of here.”
Her tone suggested she couldn’t wait for that moment, so he sighed and pushed away from the counter. Yeah, well, neither could he. But that wasn’t about to happen.
For either of them.
His enjoyment abruptly vanished.
“Uh-huh?” he drawled, heading for the door, where he paused, turning to find an odd expression on her face as she watched him leave. “And how do you plan to fly out of here, Your Highness? Grow a pair of wings?”
“Don’t be absurd. I’m looking for Chase...something or other.” She frowned and lifted pale unsteady fingers to the bruise already forming on her forehead.
He tried not to feel guilty for putting it there as it had mostly been her fault. Besides, his eye was also swelling, and his cheek hurt like hell.
Her hand dropped to clutch the counter, as though she was a little dizzy. She sucked in a deep breath that just about gave him a heart attack as those creamy mounds of flesh rose above the lace-trimmed camisole. It was several seconds before he realized that while he was having some very racy thoughts, she was gaping at him with dawning horror.
“You’re Chase, aren’t you?”
For a long moment he stared at her with an odd feeling clenching his gut. It wasn’t exactly fear. Because he wasn’t afraid of anything. Not Chase Gallagher. Nuh-uh. No way. And certainly not of a city woman.
He snorted. Especially not this city woman, with her tawny hair, creamy skin and large whiskey eyes. She was going to be his brother’s sister-in-law, for God’s sake. Which made her practically family. And if there was one thing a Gallagher didn’t do it was leave family—no matter what.
“Don’t be too long,” he ordered over his shoulder. “Our lunch should be here soon, and I need to load the cargo before we leave.”
The crash site—Moratunga Island, one hundred miles north of Tukamumu.
CHASE BECAME AWARE of two things simultaneously. The wind and the pain. The former was slashing at his face along with needlelike rain, and the latter...jeez...was threatening to explode his brains all over the inside of his skull.
He gave a rough groan and fought the urge to empty his stomach. On the bright side, pain meant that he was alive. Which was good, he mused drowsily as he began drifting off into comforting darkness. Real good. Alive meant it had all been a bad dream...
He jerked awake, his heart lurching into a dead run as his gaze flew around the cockpit and he realized something was wrong with this picture. He instantly knew it was the wrong move when pain tore through his head and the smell of burnt plastic made him gag.
Fire!
The thought had him grabbing for his harness, which he released an instant before he realized he was hanging practically upside down.
The controls broke his fall, his left shoulder taking most of the impact before he slid to the floor in a groaning heap.
Holy freaking moly!
Chase lay dazed for a couple minutes, his shoulder radiating pain and fire, his head throbbing like an open wound. Finally his vision cleared enough to recognize that there was—what the hell?—vegetation growing inside his best girl.
Either he was hallucinating or—
The storm!
Oh, yeah.
He sucked in a breath when memories rushed back. The crash.
He’d crashed his plane.
Un-be-freaking-lievable.
Muttering curses about stupid storms that weren’t supposed to change direction so fast, Chase grabbed his shoulder and sat up. His stomach instantly