Chapter One
Maddie
I’ve found heaven for sure, in this magical place where the sun warms my skin, the azure sky gleams above me, palm trees sway all around me, and toasty golden sand tickles between my toes. After years of bouncing around the globe to pin down the causes of disease outbreaks, I finally have a little time to kick back, exhale, and revel in the freedom to do nothing at all.
Don’t get me wrong. I love being an epidemiologist, but I’m so far beyond burned out. My sister, Rika, and her husband booked me a two-week vacation at a swanky Caribbean resort because, she says, I need time off. Since Rika got a sneaky look on her face when she told me that, I think she has ulterior motives. I have no idea what they are, and right now, I don’t care.
Even the name of this place seems magical—Elusion Island. When Rika told me the name, I thought she was saying “illusion,” which means something that’s not real. But she said “elusion,” and that word refers to an escape from everyday unpleasantness. Yeah, I need some elusion, big time.
The sun feels wonderful on my skin. I can’t remember the last time I sunbathed. I can’t remember the last time I wore a bikini either, but Rika had insisted on buying me several of them. Today, I chose a sky blue string bikini that brings out the color of my eyes. My sister told me so. I haven’t ventured into the Caribbean waters yet since I only arrived forty-two minutes ago.
As of right now, I’m no longer counting the minutes, hours, or days. That’s what kicking back means, right? Time becomes irrelevant. For two weeks, I’m not an epidemiologist. I’m simply a girl enjoying a tropical escape. I’ve been lounging on this beach chair for about two minutes, which is a great start to my holiday.
I pick up my mai tai and take a big sip. The cool drink slides down my throat, and I smile at the delicious way the alcohol whispers through me. Slipping on my sunglasses, I lean my head back and close my eyes. Ahhh… relaxation, I’ve missed you. The sultry warmth of the sun soaks into my skin, and every muscle in my body softens. I pull in a long breath and exhale it little by little, letting the sounds and sensations lull me into a drowsy state, floating on a sea of serenity where all the unpleasantness I’ve experienced evaporates.
No sickness. No death. No overwhelming pressure to succeed. The past drifts away, leaving me with a blessed sense of tranquility.
A shadow drapes over me.
Even with my sunglasses on and my eyes closed, I notice the deeper darkness that’s fallen over me and my chair. I open one eye.
A man is standing several feet past the foot of my chair, his shadow spilling over me.
I can’t tell if he’s looking at me since he’s wearing reflective sunglasses. But damn, that man has a killer body. And he’s showing it off by wearing nothing but a pair of skintight swim briefs. Tiny ones. Their golden tan color is almost the same shade as the sand. Or is it? My sunglasses have an amber tint, so I can’t be positive about that. I lift my shades just enough to see him in the natural light of the sun.
Yep, his swim briefs are the same color as the sand. I let my gaze wander over him, from his face to his broad shoulders and well-defined pecs, then farther down to his impressive abs. His narrow hips guide my attention even lower, to the bulge in his swim shorts and his powerful thighs.
My focus snaps back to his package and stalls there. A new kind of warmth, silky and seductive, shimmers through me. When did I last have sex? I can’t remember, and that’s just sad.
I force myself to look at his face. His short hair is light brown with gold streaks, possibly from the sun. He looks like he’s been here for a while, given his skin has a faint bronzing that makes all his muscles seem even more enticing. I assume that skin tone comes from the sun, or maybe he always looks tanned. I have no idea, but I’d love to find out. Love to explore that body with my hands, my lips, and my tongue.
What on earth am I doing? Drooling over a complete stranger? I never do that. I’m a serious-minded scientist, not a college freshman. But I have gotten so damn tired of being serious and studious and hard-working. This vacation is an escape from my life, so maybe I should let myself really cut loose.
And I’ll start by ogling a stranger. A steamy-hot one.
Back to his face… He has rugged features, but they strike me as sexy rather than coarse. His hook nose gives him an aura of manly strength, and I can imagine him skydiving or hunting for relics like Indiana Jones. His lips are full but not too full, just the right amount to make me want to feel those lips on my mouth, my throat, my breasts, anywhere he wants to kiss me.
Wow, I haven’t gotten this turned on by a guy in ages. Maybe never. And he hasn’t even spoken yet. So yeah, it’s clearly been too long since I had sex.
God, I hope he doesn’t talk like a surfer dude or have a whiny voice. That would ruin this fantasy I’m dreaming up. It involves him in that swimsuit, free-diving into a cenote in Mexico to dredge up ancient treasures from the depths of a flooded sinkhole.
With my luck, he’s a tax accountant who shaves his chest and spray-tans his body.
“Are you done?” the stranger asks, and I detect a British accent hidden in those three syllables.
“Did you want this chair?” I ask. “Because I only just sat down here.”
“No, I don’t want your chair.” His lips, the ones I’ve been fantasizing about, slide into a sensual smirk. “I wondered if you were done staring at me. Not that I mind. I was staring at you too.”
Oh shit. He noticed that? I kind of assumed he’d been admiring the scenery or something. Instead, he’d been admiring me. The realization triggers another wave of sensuous heat that ripples through me. The sexiest man I’ve ever seen has been ogling me the way I’d done to him.
“Mind if I sit on the sand beside you?” he asks.
“Not at all. It’s a public beach.”
“Actually, it’s a private one for resort guests only.”
He saunters closer and settles his taut ass onto the sand, no more than a foot away from my chair.
I take another sip of my drink, in need of the cooling sweetness of the mai tai. Even my cocktail can’t diminish the warmth that sizzles over my skin whenever this man speaks or whenever I let my gaze roam over his body. Yeah, I can’t stop myself from doing that again. And again. He knew I’d been drooling over him a minute ago, so I doubt he’ll care if I do it over and over.
Behind those reflective shades, he might be doing the exact same thing.
The stranger removes his sunglasses, holding them in his hand, and I finally glimpse his sapphire eyes. “Are you here alone? Or do you have a boyfriend or husband or some sort of significant other?”
“No, I’m alone. What about you?”
“On my own too.” He glances at my breasts, and his tongue darts out to moisten his lips. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. That bikini is… incredible.”
The rough, hot tone of his voice makes me shiver the tiniest bit. I take my shades off and set them on the little table beside me, where my drink waits. Suddenly, I don’t want that mai tai anymore. I’d much rather get intoxicated by the man next to me.
“Your swim briefs are incredible too,” I say. Oh God, was that not the dumbest thing I could possibly have blurted out? I’m a medical researcher, which means I have a brain and know how to use it. But this man short-circuits all my common-sense pathways.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” he asks. “Down the beach. It’s a lovely day, and I’d be glad for the company.”
“Sure. A walk sounds nice.”
He rises and offers me his hand.
I settle my palm in his, loving the roughness of his skin, and slip my feet into my sandals. This close to him, I can see he has a dusting of stubble on his face. I love that too. Normally, I prefer clean-shaven men, but the stubble looks so good on this guy. His deep voice makes me want to fan myself, but his body has me lusting for him like crazy. I want to grab my cocktail and guzzle the rest of it. Instead, I let him lead me away from my chair, guiding me down the beach.
We travel farther and farther away from the main section of the beach, the part that’s right in front of the resort building. A smattering of palm trees lines the main beach, but now we’re moseying into a region with more trees where the palm fronds above shield us from the sun. The occasional rays shower down between the fronds, creating a tranquil atmosphere.
The stranger stops us near a large palm tree. He keeps hold of my hand, turning to face me.
I feel a bizarre need to say something. “My name is—”
“No names. Please.” He claims my other hand, so now both of my palms are enclosed in both of his. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Going home. But first, I want to do something I’ve never done before.”
“Like what? I’d love to try parasailing. I hear it’s quite an experience.”
He draws me closer, placing my hands on his hips, and wraps his arms around me. “I’d love to experience you.”
I suck in a breath but can’t quite inhale a full one. Did he just suggest what I think he suggested? No, that kind of thing does not happen to me. “What do you mean?”
He pulls me snug against his body. “I want to kiss you, for starters.”
For starters? Excitement rushes through me, from my lips that have begun to tingle in anticipation to my toes that wriggle in my sandals like they’re urging me to do something as wild as kissing a stranger. What else does he have in mind? I won’t find out unless I make a decision.
“I’ve been drinking a mai tai,” I say. “Don’t feel impaired, but I thought you should know I had a cocktail.”
“You barely drank a few millimeters of what was in that glass.”
“That was my first cocktail in a really long time, and the only one I’ve had today.”
“Good.” He slides his hands up my back, spreading them over my shoulder blades. “May I kiss you?”
“Yes, please do.” Why not? He’s hot, and I desperately need to break out of my good-girl routine.
He brushes his lips over mine so delicately, his breaths ghosting over my skin. The feel of his firm body against mine does things to me I haven’t experienced in a long time, maybe never. The knowledge that I’m about to be kissed by a total stranger, a man whose name I don’t even know, sends an electrifying thrill through me. When he seals his mouth over mine, pressing firmly, I hold my breath and wait, craving so much more than this. He teases me with light flicks of his tongue but still doesn’t deepen our kiss.
I moan and sag into him, flattening my palms on his chest, parting my lips and praying he’ll give me more.
And he does. He slips his tongue between my lips to explore my mouth with delicate licks and sensuous glides like he wants to map every millimeter of my mouth so he can memorize the contours of it. I whisk my hands up his chest, twining my arms around his neck. He feels amazing, he tastes like everything decadent and forbidden, and the scent of him defies description even while it drives me crazy with the need to do more than kiss him.
His erection is crushed to my belly, skin to skin, like it’s broken free from his skintight briefs. I rub myself against that rod, against all of him. My nipples go stiff and ache from the intoxicating way they scrape against his chest through the flimsy fabric of my bikini top.
He groans and peels his mouth away from mine. “I need more of you.”
“Oh yes, I want that too.”
He feathers his lips over mine, not quite a kiss. “I’m not ready to say goodbye yet. Are you?”
“No, I’m not either.”
“I have something I need to take care of first, but I’d love to spend the night with you. Would you come to Room 409 at eight o’clock?”
“Sure.”
“Tonight, I’ll do better than just a kiss,” he murmurs while his lips graze mine. “I want to make love to you all night.”
Holy heaven, that sounds amazing. I shouldn’t want to do it, but like I discovered earlier when I’d first seen this man, he short-circuits all my common-sense pathways.
“I’d love to do that,” I tell him. The rational side of my brain insists I should’ve told him no, but I don’t want to do that. For the first time ever, I’ll go for what feels good, no matter how irrational it is. “I’ll see you at eight.”
He takes my hand and leads me away. We say goodbye on the path that connects the main beach to the resort building, and I go to my room. To flop onto the bed. And stare at the ceiling. No one would believe Dr. Madeleine Solberg is about to have a one-night stand. That’s what makes it so exciting.
A smile stretches my lips, then I break into a grin.
Maybe I’ve lost my mind, but it feels too fantastic to stop now.
Chapter Two
Richard
What am I doing? Not one person who knows me would believe I’d ever concoct an insane plan like the one I proposed to the woman on the beach. She’s stunning, and apparently, the sight of her in that skimpy bikini vaporized every last thread of my sanity. Inviting a woman to my room for a night of anonymous sex? The word barmy doesn’t even begin to describe my mental state today. But if this is madness, I like it.
That woman… her body… the flavor of her mouth…
Memories of her torment me just as I’m returning from that thing I’d needed to take care of, which turned out to be a fruitless effort. I’d hired a car to drive to a secluded beach where the most reclusive author on earth demanded I meet him. Well, his personal assistant told me to go there. I’ve talked to Sir Dexter Armstrong-Hill several times on the phone, and I flew to Elusion Island at his request. Now he keeps putting me off. His PA, Ilsa Weingartner, met me at the designated location and gave me the news that Dexter will not see me today.
I’d wanted to persuade a Nobel Prize-winning author to sign with my publishing company, but after a week of failed attempts, I’m done. To hell with the contract. I’m going home.
After I make love to that stunning American woman. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I need to do it, for reasons I can’t understand. So I rush out of the elevator the second the doors open and race down the hall to my suite. The clock on my mobile tells me I have four minutes until the sensual beauty I’d met this afternoon will knock on my door. If she turns up. If I don’t lose my nerve. That would be preferable to going barmy, but I’ve already done that. Might as well see this through to the end.
When I shove my keycard into the lock, a light flashes red. I try it again. Red flashes again. My hand is shaking, which is ridiculous, so I have no choice but to stand here for a moment until I’ve calmed down.
My mobile says it’s now seven fifty-eight.
Bollocks. I slide the keycard in more gently.
The light turns green.
I throw the door open, hurry inside, and kick the door shut without even slowing down. I need to change clothes. I’ve done that twice today already—once when I changed into my swimsuit, and again when I switched to the business suit I’m now wearing—but I don’t want to look like a stuffy publisher when that sexy woman arrives.
What if she changed her mind?
Maybe the thought should ease the tension inside me, but it doesn’t. I need to see her again, kiss her again, and do so much more than that.
I change into casual clothes and start pacing the width of the room. The sound of the surf reaches me in here, thanks to the open design of this suite, and all the suites at Elusion Island Resort. The regular rooms don’t have this design, and I’d wanted the best view possible. One side of the spacious room not only overlooks the bay but is completely open to the outdoors. I stop midway through another circuit of the room and gaze out across the infinity pool, toward the waters of the bay and the horizon beyond it.
The sun has set, and I can barely make out the mountains or the ocean. The lights of the resort cast glistening pools of illumination on the bay.
A knock on the door pulls my attention away from the view.
She’s here. The woman actually came.
I straighten my shirt, though it’s already straight. Then I walk up to the door and swing it open.
She’s standing there. The girl from the beach. Wearing that bikini, along with a sheer white shirt that hangs open and extends past her knees. Her pale-red hair had been tied up in a ponytail earlier, but now it drapes over her shoulders, and curling strands of it kiss her cheeks.
Bloody hell, she looks even sexier and more beautiful now than she did on the beach. I want to kiss her again, as badly as I’d wanted it hours ago. The need is even worse now since I know what her lips feel like and taste like. I remember the softness of her skin too, and the way her eyes turn glossy when she’s aroused. I want to see that look in her eyes while I’m inside her.
“Hello,” she says, smiling nervously. “I’m here.”
“Yes, I know.” I move aside and gesture for her to walk into the suite. “Come in, please. I’m glad you’re here.”
She ambles past me but stops a few meters beyond the doorway. While I shut the door, I watch her head swivel left and right, though I can’t see her expression since she’s facing away from me. I love the view, though. That long shirt is almost translucent, giving me tantalizing glimpses of every curve on her body. Somehow, it’s even more enticing to get a peek at those curves instead of touching them, but I want to do that too. Need to do it. Over and over, all night long.
I’ve lost my mind, and I don’t care.
The woman spins around once, her mouth open and her eyes large. Then she halts facing me and spreads her arms. “I’ve never seen a suite like this in my entire life. It’s… heaven.”
She’s so adorably stunned that I can’t help chuckling. “It’s a hotel suite, not a celestial paradise.”
“Celestial paradise? Not many people talk that way.”
“Sorry. I have a habit of using big words.” A side effect of my job, but I don’t want to talk about work with her.
“Don’t apologize for that,” she says. “I use lots of words that are way bigger than the ones you just said. Fancy words are so stimulating.”
“Are they? Maybe I should pull up a thesaurus on my mobile so I can seduce you with polysyllabic phrases.”
“Ooh, that’s hot.”
I know she’s teasing me, but the longer we speak, the more I want to ravish her. A variety of scenarios for doing that play out in my mind, and I can’t decide which one to start with.
“Would you like a drink?” I ask. “There’s champagne in the refrigerator.”
“Can’t remember the last time I had champagne. So yeah, let’s have a little of that.”
I’d ordered the champagne earlier, along with two glasses, because I hoped this woman would knock on my door. I hurry over to the small refrigerator tucked into the corner, retrieve the bottle and two glasses, and return to her. She’s moved to the edge of the infinity pool, gazing out into the deepening night. The first stars are visible, and suddenly I feel like I am in heaven, surrounded by glimmering stars and accompanied by an angel in a blue bikini.
As I stop beside her, I find myself appreciating her profile instead of the night sky.
She turns her face toward me and smiles. “Are you going to pop that cork?”
“Yes, of course.” I hand her the two glasses, then struggle to do what she said. The bloody cork won’t budge, so I give up. “Afraid I can’t get the bottle open. We’ll have to skip the champagne.”
“Don’t worry. I know the trick.” She shoves the glasses into my hand and plucks the bottle away from me. With one try, she sends the cork flying into the infinity pool, where it lands with a splash and floats on the surface. “There. Mission accomplished.”
Maybe I should feel emasculated by the fact she accomplished a task I’d failed at, but all I feel is more turned on than ever before in my life. If I bought this woman dinner at a posh restaurant, I’m sure she wouldn’t order salad with no dressing and pick at it like a bird. She would devour a medium-rare steak with gusto.
And watching her do that would make me want to spread her body across a table in the middle of that restaurant and drive into her.
She pours champagne into the two glasses I’m still grasping, then sets the bottle on the floor. Taking one flute, she holds it near mine. “What should we toast to?”
“Pleasure.”
Her tongue sneaks out between her lips, gliding back and forth twice while her eyes get that glossy look. “I like that. To pleasure, then.”
We clink our glasses and take our sips.
“Mm,” she says, “I love the feel of the fizzy stuff in my mouth, and the way it sizzles down my throat.”
I empty my glass in one mouthful. And that “fizzy stuff” bubbles down my throat, making me cough.
The angel in a bikini grins. “You’re not supposed to gulp it. Haven’t you ever had champagne before?”
“Yes.” But not while looking at a woman like her. I don’t think there are any other women like her, anyway.
She takes a dainty sip, peering at me over the rim of her glass. “Wouldn’t you like to know my name?”
I want that more than she could possibly know, but it’s a ruddy awful idea. “That’s not necessary. I’m leaving early in the morning, and we’ll never see each other again. I’d rather not know too much about you.”
“Uh-huh.” She taps her fingernail on her glass, studying me with squinted eyes. “I’ve never slept with a guy without knowing at least his first name.”
I lied, of course. I want to know everything about this woman, but getting to know her would only complicate things. My life has no room for dating. Work is all I have time for. And if I know her name, I have a feeling it will be even more difficult to walk away in the morning.
My life has become complicated enough already.
The bikini-clad goddess tosses back her entire glassful of champagne. She shudders, then laughs. “I like drinking bubbly your way. It makes me tingly all over.”
Though my mouth opens, I can’t speak. Champagne makes her tingly all over? I can see her stiff nipples poking through her bikini top. I love those breasts. I imagine cradling one in my palm and wonder if it will fit perfectly. After the way she shuddered from drinking “bubbly,” I want to close my mouth around her nipple and make her shiver for a different reason.
“Enough champagne,” I say, snatching her glass away and setting both flutes on the floor. “Where should we shag first?”
“Good thing for you I know what ‘shag’ means to a Brit, or I might think you’re inviting me to install wall-to-wall carpeting for you.”
“Carpeting?”
“Yeah. Shag is a type of carpet fiber.”
“Oh. Yes, I know.” But looking at her scrambles my brain. I should try to unscramble my thoughts, but I don’t want to. Responsibility has been my primary concern for as long as I can remember, but it’s gotten me precisely nowhere. Successful in business, yes. Well, mostly. Successful in the rest of my life? Not at all. Tonight, with this woman, I want to behave like an unrepentant rake.
I slip an arm under her shirt to encircle her waist, tugging her into my body. “I meant that I want to make love to you, so where should we start? The bed seems awfully prosaic.”
She glances around, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Then she leans into me, spreading her palms over my chest, the warmth of them penetrating my shirt. “Out there. On one of those chairs.”
“Where?”
“Right over there, on the patio.” She peels one hand away from me to point toward the pair of chaises that occupy the patio. “Out in the open. I’ve never done anything like that before. Isn’t this what tropical vacations are for? Getting wild and dirty? I hope so, because I really want that.”
So do I. With her.
