‘Yup.’ Ethan enjoyed the burning sensation sliding down his throat and he felt some of the tension ease. ‘You’re the kind of person I’d like to be stuck with on a desert island.’
‘You’re the kind of person I’m enjoying being stuck with in the lift. And, for the record, you don’t make me feel uncomfortable at all.’ She looked at him through wisps of hair that he ached to touch. Then she smiled and it was so uninhibited and free that something in his chest expanded.
She made him feel hot and a damned sight less stressed. Awareness flared through him as he tried to find words that weren’t filled with innuendo. That wasn’t who he was or what she needed so he tried to get the conversation on to safer territory. ‘Good to hear. And, yes, I’m from England but I’ve been working in Africa for years.’
‘Ah. That explains the tan. You like it there? I’ve never been but I’m pretty sure I’ll get there one day. Some of those places sound amazing.’
‘It’s perfect for me.’ Not wanting to tarnish the romantic image she clearly had of the place, he didn’t mention the work he did there. ‘So what’s this adventure you’re embarking on?’
‘Oh, nothing too major.’ But her grin told him otherwise. ‘I’m running away to sea.’
‘WHAT THE HELL...?’ Ethan almost choked on his second mouthful of brandy. He’d expected her to say a holiday or a new job, not something so...out there. Plus, the prospect of going to sea seemed to excite her whereas the thought of stepping on that ship tomorrow filled him with dread. Given what he knew of her so far, she could probably make watching paint dry sound like an adventure, but then she was most likely sailing the Med on one of those super-yachts, or a cruise round the Greek islands. She was ethereal, unreal, a dream. A fun-loving, beautiful, laughter-filled dream. ‘Why would you choose to do that?’
‘I’ve just had a lucky escape from a crappy relationship with a man who made a million promises and then let me down on every single one of them. We had everything worked out—the wedding, our future, how many kids we were going to have and at what intervals. And it’s gone. All gone. Pouf!’ She brought her fingertips to her lips and blew out, splaying her fingers. ‘When I looked at what had happened to us I realised we’d been so caught up in the mundane we’d kind of lost all the fun. So I’m grabbing my freedom with both hands, doing things I’ve only ever dreamed of doing. Kind of like a bucket list, but not because I’m dying, because I’m living. Starting again. My girlfriends made me write it as therapy to get over him. I was, like, how do I want my life to look? Who do I want to be?’
‘What’s on the list?’
‘Run away to sea. Get a tattoo. Drink kava in Fiji. Swim with sharks. Blah-blah...the usual things.’
Oh, yes, he’d heard it all before. Many of the volunteers he worked with had come to the refugee camps because of their own bucket lists. Whereas he’d started doing the voluntary work precisely because he liked not having lists, not being tied to anything or anyone or any place. ‘So I’m guessing being stuck in a lift with a stranger isn’t on there?’
‘Dance with a stranger is there, but getting stuck with one never crossed my mind. Maybe it should have.’
‘Maybe it should.’ Possibilities ran through his head—kisses, his hands in her hair. Her up against the wall. Something hot bloomed in his gut.
‘And there’s bigger things too, like grasping opportunities, taking risks. I was always too scared to step outside my comfort zone, but here I am.’ Her eyes brightened, shimmering with life and excitement, and he couldn’t look away. God, she was breath-taking in every way; beautiful, sexy as hell, seriously funny.
‘Here you are. I hope they get the lift working soon so you don’t miss your boat.’ He hoped they got the lift working soon, period.
‘It’s not leaving until tomorrow.’ She shrugged, but her gaze caught his and the awareness tightened and tugged. ‘We have all night, Mr Knight.’
‘Looks like we do.’
‘Can I tell you a secret?’ She leaned closer and he wasn’t sure who held whose hand first, fitting fingers together, skin sliding over skin. Him? Her? Both at the same time? Awareness turned into an urgent need, as if all his nerve endings were heightened and sensitive to her touch. This dream was getting real and for the first time in his life he wasn’t praying it would end.
He stroked her palm. What were they doing? Don’t ask questions. They were consenting adults. ‘Sure, tell me your secrets, Claire.’
She smiled coyly. ‘I’m a fake really. I might sound as if I’ve got it all sorted, but I’m wobbling. I feel as if I’m walking—running even—on a tightrope and there’s no safety net. The girls said it’d be fun to have an adventure and I’m trying to work out whether I’m wildly excited or whether the bubbles in my gut are made from pure terror.’
‘Sometimes it’s the same thing. Two sides of the same coin. Here...’ He pulled her to standing and positioned her in one corner of the lift. The space was so damned cramped. He fought the rising sensation in his gut. It’s just an elevator. They’d be out of here soon. He wasn’t pinned down. He wasn’t trapped. He wasn’t staring death in the face. He was looking at the prettiest women he’d seen in a long time and thinking about kissing her. He wasn’t going to let his stupid panic take over. He would take a leaf out of her book and just fake it.
So he took her hands in his and started to walk backwards across the floor. ‘Walk with me. I’ve got you. Right now. Just don’t look down. You can do this.’
She took his lead and put one foot in front of the other gingerly, as if she really was walking on a thin rope. ‘I’m scared.’
‘You can do this.’ His grip tightened and she squeezed back.
‘I can do this.’ She laughed, looking about as far from scared as anyone could be. She pretended to look down and to wobble. ‘Uh-uh.’
He pulled her to him, anchoring her against his chest, nuzzling into those luscious curls. Her delicious scent stoked the unfurling need in his gut. He wanted to kiss her. To strip away those layers and find the real Claire underneath this act.
For a few seconds they stayed crushed together, holding on as if neither wanted to let go. Then she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back and fitted herself into his arms. She leaned her head against his chest and then swayed slowly.
‘You want to share the tune?’ He laughed into hair that smelt of lemons. ‘Because I can’t hear a thing.’
‘Something slow.’ For a few moments she swayed and smiled, her head tilted against his jaw as her hands stroked across his back and over his arms. Then she pulled away slightly and looked up at him, hands locked on his biceps. As she gazed up her eyes misted with need. The atmosphere in the lift crackled and pulsed. She put her cool palm to his cheek, then ran soft feathery fingertips across his lips. His gut contracted with need.
‘Dance with a stranger; I can tick that off now. Tell me, Ethan, are you married? In a relationship?’ she whispered, even though there was no one else to hear her. ‘Are you the kind of guy who would cheat?’
‘No, no, and definitely, no.’
‘Good.’ Closing her eyes, she pressed his lips against her fingertips, the pressure on his mouth tantalising, excruciatingly sexy. He could feel her breath coming fast and soft. The scent of hibiscus filled the air. ‘Then, yes, yes, and definitely, yes.’
Torn by his warring conscience