“I’m returning your purse,” he said wryly. “Seems more like a job for a Boy Scout than a superhero.”
Emily’s lips twitched until she could no longer hold back, and she wondered at his ability to make her laugh when she least felt like it. But Javy’s own smile faded, his expression intensifying.
“There it is,” he murmured.
“There.” She cleared her throat. “There what is?”
“A real laugh. I thought earlier you would be impossible to resist if you laughed.”
“You did?”
“I did.” Reaching up, he traced what was left of her smile with the pad of his thumb. “And you are.”
Irresistible. The word certainly applied to Javy. What else could explain why Emily didn’t protest as he slid his hand to the nape of her neck and pulled her closer? He moved purposefully—giving her time to notice the perfect shape of his mouth, time to feel the brush of his breath against her lips, time to escape.
But the slow, almost-relentless approach only built a pulse-pounding impatience, and instead of ducking away from his touch, Emily leaned into the kiss. The first barely there brush of his lips, and then the undeniable claim of his mouth over hers. She could taste a hint of the beer he’d had to drink earlier, and after a night filled with champagne toasts, it seemed so right. His kiss had an intoxication all its own, and the stars overhead seemed to spin wildly out of control.
Or maybe she was spinning out of control as Javy’s hands slid down to her hips, each finger a brand against her flesh, even through the pale pink silk. She tightened her arms until her breasts pressed against the solid wall of his chest, but close wasn’t close enough. Her shoulder blades bumped against the carved bungalow door, a sudden reminder that wove through her thoughts.
She’d hardly paid any attention to her room earlier—it was nice enough, but after all, it wasn’t the honeymoon suite. Now, though, she could picture the room clearly with its dark wicker furniture, escape-to-the-tropics decor and large, empty bed.
The crazy thought of pulling the key from the purse Javy had returned and inviting him inside was so out of character, she should have been shocked. But all she felt was tempted by the wild impulse.
A faint, unfamiliar melody played through Emily’s mind, too close to come from the ballroom, too far away to truly register. Javy broke the kiss, his breathing as uneven as hers. With the moon and light from the ballroom behind him, she couldn’t see his expression, only the dark glitter of his eyes. He was so much more experienced than she at this kind of thing—then again, who wasn’t?—did she dare hope he’d been as affected by their kiss?
“Sorry,” he said, his voice a husky murmur as the sound repeated and Emily recognized the ring of a cell phone. “I don’t know who would be calling me now.”
Emily knew she should have been grateful for the interruption, but her still-pounding heart and tingling lips stomped out any other feeling beyond regret.
Fishing the phone out of his pocket, Javy frowned at the number displayed on the screen before answering with a rough “Yeah?” Emily could tell something was wrong even before he asked, “How bad is it?”
Agitation filled his steps as he started pacing while he listened to the person on the other end of the line. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be right there. Do me a favor and don’t call Maria until I have a chance to take a look.”
He snapped the phone closed and met Emily’s gaze. “I have to go. A pipe burst at our restaurant. From what the night manager, Tommy, says, the place is a mess.”
“Of course. I hope it’s not as bad as it sounds.”
Despite the barely restrained tension in the line of his jaw and the set of his shoulders, Javy hesitated, as if searching for something to say. A little surprised he didn’t have a sexy quip ready even for a moment like this, Emily shook her head. It wasn’t like she wanted to discuss their kiss or her unexpected desire to take things further than a kiss. She couldn’t begin to explain it to herself.
“Go,” she said softly.
“Emily.” His frustration was verbalized in a muttered curse—in Spanish—before he turned to walk away. He spun back around just as quickly. Catching her around the waist, he pulled her into his arms. He stole her breath and a quick, hard kiss before letting her go and backing away a second time.
“I’ll call you,” he promised.
Hugging her arms around the butterflies dancing in her stomach, Emily watched him disappear into the night. Maybe she was crazy, and maybe she was totally on the rebound after Todd’s betrayal, but she suddenly wasn’t sure she cared as long as Javy was the man to catch her.
Chapter Three
Javy hoped the restaurant wasn’t as bad as he remembered. That after spending half the night wrestling with a Shop-Vac, feeling like he was trying to drain an ocean, he’d been too tired to clinically assess the damage. Sheer exhaustion must have made everything appear so much worse than it really was.
He was wrong.
The bathroom in which the pipe had broken and the area beyond showed the most damage. The force of the water had broken the concrete slab, cracking the Saltillo tile and flooding the place. He could see where the drywall had wicked water up a foot from the baseboards, darkening the paint like poorly done mountainscapes. The bathroom vanities were warped and waterlogged. Even some of the tables and chairs, with their elegant carving and colorful Mexican tile accents, showed signs of damage, a loss that hurt worst of all.
The harsh reality of day made the hours before seem even more like a dream. Last night he’d held a beautiful woman in his arms. Then the clock had struck midnight and poof! He’d been up to his ankles in flood damage.
After all the hard work and worry about the restaurant, he should have collapsed into bed, grateful for the few hours of shut-eye. But memories of Emily’s kiss had tortured him. He’d wanted to kiss her from the moment he spotted her at Kelsey and Connor’s engagement party. He’d anticipated the challenge of cracking her cool veneer and drawing out the woman beneath. But he hadn’t expected to experience the instant rush of heat and desire as Emily caught fire in his arms or to find himself in danger of getting burned.
Even when he’d finally drifted off to sleep, Emily had filled his thoughts. In his dreams, she’d stood right in front of him, but when he’d reached out, his arms had gone right through, and she’d disappeared.
Javy wasn’t much for dream interpretation, but he did know he’d never had a woman he’d just met creep her way into his subconscious. Granted, Emily was stunning, but he’d dated his share of beauties—maybe even more than his share. Women who enjoyed the chase as much as he did and played by the same rules—all fun and games and no one got hurt.
He’d learned from his mistakes—and the one time he’d gotten in over his head and nearly drowned. But something about Emily was already pulling him deeper. He’d meant it when he’d called her brave. He couldn’t think of another woman who would have painted on such a lovely smile and survived that wedding as a guest when she’d planned all along to be the bride. And the way she’d faced the cruel gossip with such class and grace …
He admired her, Javy realized suddenly, a word he hadn’t figured he would associate with Emily Wilson. He’d assumed she was spoiled and selfish and would respond to her canceled wedding with a tantrum and a trip to Cannes or to some other rich-girl playground. She’d impressed him with a quiet composure and courage that threatened to get beneath his skin, and he