UP In Flames: Body Heat / Caught in the Act. Lori Foster
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to him.
She jerked her chin away. “I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“I... No one will notice me missing. I came alone and I wasn’t exactly friendly to anyone on the boat.”
“You came alone?”
Oh, why did he have to focus on that one small tidbit? She hadn’t even meant to admit that much. She put her chin in the air and said, “Yes. Alone.”
He looked her over slowly from head to toe, made a grunting sound, then turned away and started unbuttoning his shirt. “I figured you’d be married to some young yuppie executive type by now.”
If all had gone as planned, she would have been. Thank God she’d called it off in time.
When Adam shrugged out of his shirt, at first all she could do was stare at his chest. Hard, lean, covered with a light dusting of hair a shade or two darker than his golden head, it was the type of chest female fantasies were made of. When his hands went to the buttons on his slacks, her mouth fell open, then snapped shut. In a croak, she asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Without looking at her, he said, “You don’t expect me to go exploring our little island in suit pants, do you?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. The pants were shoved down, and she whirled around so fast her head swam. But she hadn’t been quite quick enough. She saw snug cotton boxer briefs—wet briefs—molded closely to his lower body. The man was a total fiend.
“Adam,” she said, doing her best to keep her tone calm and reasonable, “put your pants back on.”
“No way. If you had any sense, you’d lose that skirt.”
She clutched her skirts protectively to her body. “I will do no such thing!”
“Suit yourself. But I don’t think it’ll hold up long if you don’t wash the salt water out of it and let it air dry.”
He had a point, not that she intended to disrobe in front of him. It didn’t matter that she wore matching shorts beneath the skirt and underwear under that. Her ex-fiancé had told her numerous times that she needed to put on weight, to gain some curves. And toward the end, she’d finally realized he didn’t find her attractive at all. Oh, he put up a good front, and he tried. Jerry was always pleasant, mannerly, proper. That was one of the reasons she’d broken things off with him; he seemed more emotionless every day, like he had no depth, at least not where she was concerned.
She’d come here to rest, to get control of her emotions after the painful breakup. Ha! Controlling her emotions around Adam had always been impossible.
It was imperative she carry her own weight, that she prove to him her little display in the water was an aberration. She could and would fend for herself.
She was still figuring ways to do that when his warm breath touched the back of her neck. She hadn’t even noticed him approaching!
“One thing hasn’t changed, I see.”
Melanie froze, not daring to move in case his mouth actually touched her skin—in which case she knew she’d likely faint. Her every nerve ending felt stretched tight with him so close. Even her fingertips tingled. “What?”
“You’re still a shy little thing.”
But she wasn’t shy. She was just...affected by him. She’d always been affected by him. He made her nervous and tongue-tied and loopy. From the first day she’d seen him, he’d look at her and her stomach would do flips. Forcing herself to turn, she had her mouth open with a scathing retort when she remembered his state of undress.
Oh, my. Her lips wouldn’t move. As to that, neither would her eyes; they stayed glued on the bare, very male body he presented. Her imagination hadn’t done him justice.
Adam chucked her chin. “Come on. We’ll walk along the shore a bit and see if we can find any signs of habitation.”
He moved away from her, and she stared, heart racing, as he sauntered to his bag and picked it up. He left his discarded clothes lying amid the long, dry grass. As he went past her again, he whistled a jaunty tune.
If she’d found a rock, she’d have thrown it at his head. Frustrated, annoyed and somewhat intrigued, Melanie hurried to catch up.
As Adam had said, many things had changed. But one thing that hadn’t was his appeal. The man still had it in spades. And though she hated to admit it, she’d never been immune.
CHAPTER THREE
“If you’re so sure we’re alone, why drag along your bag?”
Adam smiled slightly to himself. Though she did her best to be cavalier, her voice shook. Good. Let her fret awhile. Misery loved company, and his mind was so jumbled at the moment, it was filled with the worst kind of misery.
He’d missed his meeting. Hiding his reaction from Mel wasn’t easy, but he had no intention of letting her know how important the deal had been for him. Not only that, but it had taken mere moments in her company for him to revert to form, to become the taunting bully she’d always claimed him to be. He hadn’t treated a woman with less than full respect and gentleness since he’d moved away from Brockton.
Except for now. By word and attitude he’d proved Mel right, that he hadn’t really changed at all. And it made him madder than hell. “I have important stuff inside. Where I go, it goes.”
His dark boxers were nearly dry now, but her long skirt was still dripping. He wished she’d lose it. One nice long look at her legs would make his outlook brighter. She was still so slender, so fragile. Seven years hadn’t changed that, but emotionally, she was more sturdy. He laughed. Hell, she was almost mean, as she’d accused him of being.
“Why are you laughing?”
He slanted her a look. “Private joke.” But while he was looking at her, he noticed how fair her skin was. “You got sunscreen on?”
She looked at her body, then crossed her arms over the delicate skin of her midriff. “I did have. But that was before our little dip in the ocean.”
“Damn. Much as I hate to do this...” He stopped and set his bag on the sand, then knelt before it. “I have a shirt you can put on. I don’t want to see you get burned.”
“Playing hero again?”
His jaw locked for a second as her words hit him. He was so far from heroic it was laughable. She knew it too, and probably used the term as more of an insult than a compliment. He surveyed her smug little expression, then shook his head. “No, I just don’t want to hear you whining later if your tender skin gets pink.”
“I do not whine.”
“The hell you don’t.”
She started to stalk away and he called out, “Just where do you think you’re going, honey? If you get lost and a wild boar gets you, it’s no sweat off my nose.”
She halted in her tracks, then slowly turned to him. “There are no wild boars on a Florida island.”
Shoving clothes aside, he lifted out the much acclaimed guidebook and shook it at her. “Says different in here!” So far, he really had no idea what the damn manual said. He hadn’t had a chance to look it over completely.
She stomped back to him, kicking up sand along the way. She had the attitude of a very tiny, very female bull. “Let me see that.”
He held it behind his back. “I don’t think so. It’s mine. In fact, I’ve got a lot of useful stuff here in my bag. Let’s see—” He shoved the booklet under his backside so she couldn’t get to it then began rummaging in his bag. “There’s the shirt you could surely use to protect your delicate hide if only you’d stop being such a witch. Toothpaste and toothbrush. A few candy bars, gum, shampoo and soap.