“I’m the Mac.” He grinned and slid his hands down her bare, wet arms, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. He laced his fingers through hers. “I was hoping we could be the couple.”
It was too much to fathom. He was in 1601. He’d come back. A distinct joy collided in her heart with another, peculiar feeling. Shame. He’d seen the ad and thought she’d placed it to find him.
He studied her expression and frowned. “I really checked in this time, so you can’t be mad at me.”
How could she tell him that anger didn’t propel her away from him? She couldn’t admit how much he’d affected her. “I’m not mad.” It was lame, but so was she at the moment.
“Of course not,” he said with a teasing glint in his eye. “You wouldn’t have bought that ad.”
“Oh.” She tried to sound dismissive and tug her hands out of his grip. “Don’t take that too seriously.”
He just held her hands tighter, pulling her toward him. “I take it very seriously. I like a woman who goes after what she wants.” His face was close enough for her to see the individual whiskers and smell the toothpaste she’d just tasted. “Especially when I want the same thing.”
“You…you do?”
He smiled slyly. “Pleasure in paradise. Like the ad says, only at Mar Brisas.”
“Uh, yes. That’s what it says.” A wave slapped against her thigh, threatening the stability of her shaky legs. He held on to her, but his gaze returned to her wet suit, making Nicole aware of the sheer fabric molded to her body.
“You look as good in white as you do in blue,” he said huskily.
She felt her body tighten under his scrutiny, the Lycra clinging relentlessly to every inch. She wanted to cross her arms and cover up. No one ever saw her in the revealing bathing suit; it was strictly for her morning walk and swim.
His eyes darkened lustily. “And as good wet as dry.”
Oh, he was smooth. Too damn smooth. “Stop it,” she said roughly, pulling away from his firm grip and embracing herself in the protection of her own arms. “Just stop it.”
He took a surprised step backward, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “You put up the billboard.”
“That wasn’t an appeal for sex.”
He dropped his jaw a little, then he broke into a grin. She knew what was coming next. Then what was it? Would she tell him the truth?
But the hard, masculine lines of his face softened. “Good.”
The single word threw her. “Good?”
“Very good.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head, looking down through thick lashes, just the way he had in the elevator before he kissed her. It was a sexy tilt. A cavalier, devil-may-care, I’m-going-to-eat-you-alive-in-a-minute tilt that took her heart for a wild ride.
“Why is that good?” she managed to ask.
“I don’t want sex.”
“You don’t?” A stab of disappointment warred with a rush of relief. “Then what do you want?”
“I want to get to know you.”
Oh no. Too smooth. This wasn’t real. This was more of a fantasy than his bare chest and bedroom eyes. This man could not be trusted. “You’re a liar.”
“Excuse me?” he choked out a laugh.
“You lied about being a guest.”
He shook his head. “I had every intention of registering, but there seemed to be a run on rooms while we were, uh, otherwise occupied.”
“Well, you’re lying now. About not wanting sex.” Of that she was sure.
He shrugged and broke into a deadly smile. “Guilty as charged. But I also want to know you better.”
She peered at him. God, she wanted to believe him. Because she wanted to know him better, too. “You thought if we were locked on the third floor long enough, we would have…”
His dark eyes smoked with lust. “We would have.”
“You don’t know that for sure.” She did, but no need to confirm it. “You don’t know me. And God knows, I don’t know you.”
“That’s the problem,” he said, taking her hand. “I want to know you. And as for me, I can tell you this much. I’m not a liar.” He held up her hand to his chest, laying it over his heart. It thumped in synchronization with hers. “What you see is what you get.”
She took a shaky breath. If what she saw was what she got, she was going to be one satisfied woman. “That whole encounter was really intense,” she finally whispered. “It left me dazed.”
“Me, too,” he said. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you for ten minutes.”
The words poured over her like the sun behind him.
“I almost wrecked when I saw the billboard.” His lips curled in an intimate half smile. Very intimate. “It really made me feel good that you wanted to see me again that much.”
An overdose of guilt surged through her veins. “Mac, please. It’s not what you think. I’m not this desperate single woman seeking—”
He lifted her fingers to his lips and feathered them with a kiss. “Shh. Don’t apologize.”
For one insane minute, Nicole thought maybe she wouldn’t tell him the truth. Was it such a bad thing that he thought she’d run the ad to find him? It worked. She found him.
He looked into her eyes. “I promise you, I’m no more a wolf who attacks women in elevators than you are an exhibitionist who hangs from the ceiling.”
Sanity and common sense started to slowly return to her numb brain. She’d have to explain everything. “I think we need to start over,” she said.
“Absolutely. Let me take you on a date.”
She took a watery step backward. “What kind of date?”
“A bona fide, pick-you-up-at-seven, wear-a-pretty-dress, eat-an-expensive-meal, walk-on-the-beach and make-out-for-hours date.”
“Mmm.” She bit her bottom lip. “I bet you look nice in a pretty dress.”
He laughed and took both her hands, pulling her into his chest. “Not as good as you do,” he whispered, wrapping her arms around him and clasping their hands together to lock her into place. His chest and abdomen were hot and solid and she had to look up to hold his gaze.
He reached down and kissed her nose. “Tell me yes.”
The little bit of sanity and common sense that had just made an appearance dissolved in an instant, replaced by a dizzying, addictive, irrational pleasure. Drunk with the sensation, she nodded.
“Then I will pick you up tonight at seven. What suite are you in or should I just knock on the ceiling of the elevator?”
She looked over his shoulder toward 1801. “I live there.”
“You live there?”
That instant, she remembered the meeting and jumped back with a gasp. Oh, God, she was going to be late to meet with Quinn McGrath. “I have to go,” she told him. “I have to be somewhere.” She couldn’t show up in her white bathing suit with wet hair.
He looked a little skeptical at her sudden change. She’d explain it to him tonight, not now. Her life, her very foundation, was crumbling and she couldn’t get sidetracked, even by this achingly attractive man in her arms. She’d tell him the truth about the ad tonight, she promised herself. She didn’t