Perspiration rolled down her temple. She gave a nervous laugh. “I think I’ll hold out as long as I can.”
The elevator had become a steamy box and she felt like a wilting, hothouse weed. She pulled the wispy material of her skirt over her calves. She couldn’t read her watch, but guessed there were still several hours of daylight left. No telling how much longer they’d have to sit here.
He shifted across from her, but her heart didn’t race in alarm. Although it did race. Over the last four years, she’d learned to ratchet up her instinct, recoiling from even the most casual contact or closeness. Yet with Ward, her usual skittishness diminished.
“I can’t take it anymore. I’m getting out of these shorts.” Ward stood, sending a whoosh of air floating her way. She heard the clink of metal against metal as he unlooped his belt. She clenched her eyes tight as she waited for the next sound—the zip of his fly coming down. A ringing began in her ears. His shorts hit the floor with a thud, and she sensed him stepping out of them. He tossed his clothes to the side.
“Ah,” he said.
She nearly groaned, and tried not to imagine what he’d look like. Tall, muscular, and wearing only his Skivvies. If Marines wore such a thing. His presence had dwarfed her as they’d stood together, pounding uselessly against the elevator door. His presence beside her felt…masculine. Despite the heat, her nipples tightened.
She fluffed her shirt again. The darkness concealed many things. Thankfully.
“I bet you’re rubbing that dimple in your chin.” Ward’s voice carried over to her, melting like butter.
“It’s called a cleft and I’ve always hated it.”
“Why?”
“It’s boyish.”
Ward laughed. It was a warm chuckle deep from his chest. Great, there were those shaky knees again. How could he do that to her with just a laugh? “There’s nothing boyish about you, Hannah.”
A sensuous curl of awareness tickled her senses. She tread on dangerous territory here. Ward was way out of her league. Actually, she didn’t even belong in a league. She should never have attempted that smile. Time for some evasive maneuvers. “I’m getting a little hungry. Do you have any food in your briefcase?”
A long pause followed her question. She held her breath.
“I’ll check.”
She released her breath on a quiet sigh and reached for her purse. Perhaps she still had some airline peanuts from a trip a few weeks ago. She thought longingly of the candy bar she had stashed in her desk drawer.
“Found it.” The click of his briefcase opening filled the tiny compartment. “We’re in luck. I thought I might have a water bottle in here. Last night I left my gym bag in the locker and stashed my water in here. Not much left, we’ll have to ration.”
“It’s okay, I’m not overly thirsty right now. Somehow knowing we have it makes it better.” She twisted and her blouse stuck to her back. If she didn’t cool down, she’d be in a whole lot of trouble. Ward seemed to be faring better, but then he’d taken off most of his clothes. If not all.
Enticing images came to mind. Ward had that wavy kind of hair that made him not mind if a woman wanted to run her fingers through it. Kyle had hated her touching his hair, messing it up. He liked to keep it under control.
As much as she would like to deny it, something about Ward drew her, common sense shouted “Run Away!” But every one of her nerve endings shouted back they wanted to be touched. And to touch.
The man oozed raw sexual energy.
Another bead of perspiration rolled down the side of her face. She had to do it. She had to strip.
If she took off one item of clothing slowly, perhaps it would seem more of a treat that way. She’d start with her slip. What a stupid piece of clothing that was anyway.
She stood, and hiked up her skirt. Heat filled her cheeks even though she knew Ward couldn’t see her actions. There was something very intimate about stripping before a man. A tremor of excitement raced through her as she eased the silky material down her hips.
“Finally got hot enough, huh?”
She stopped abruptly, the material at her knees. Despite the utter darkness, she felt his eyes on her. On her body. Even with the stifling heat, her nipples hardened.
Stop it, you’re being ridiculous. She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of the hot fabric, tossing it into the corner. “Something like that.”
The air brushed against her thighs, giving her a moment of blessed relief. And a burst of energy. “Don’t most elevators have escape hatches? I’ve seen them in movies.”
Ward stood beside her. “I didn’t get a good visual before the lights went out. I’ve probably been in this elevator half a dozen times and I have no idea. But it’s worth a shot. I’ll loop my hands together and give you a boost up.”
“What?”
“I’m not tall enough to reach. Grab my hand.”
All the comfortable feelings she’d garnered to this point vanished. She’d have to touch him. Feel the heat of his bare skin. The tightness of his muscles beneath her fingertips.
She thrust out her hand in the general direction of Ward’s voice.
His long fingers clasped hers and drew her toward him. He placed her hand on his shoulder and stooped. “Use your hand for leverage and lift your foot.”
His skin felt smooth and, oh so inviting, as she curled her hand around his shoulder. The muscles beneath her fingertips tensed slightly as she braced herself against him. His breath ruffled the material of her blouse.
“That’s it, now lift your foot.”
She lifted her leg and bumped her calf into his hands. He slid his hand slowly down her bare leg, sending shivers up to her thighs. Finally he found her foot. With an easy heave, he lifted her off the ground. She gasped slightly and balanced both hands on his strong shoulders.
“It’s okay, I got you.” Ward stood to his full height. She rested her hip against the strength of his shoulder and raised her arms.
“I’m feeling along the ceiling now. Everything feels the same.”
“Search for a break in the tile.”
“It’s all tile.” She ran her palms against the ceiling in frantic circles. She had to find the opening. If this didn’t work, they might be stuck here for hours.
Finally one palm snagged on an irregularity. “Wait, this may be it.” She pushed on the unusual tile with all her strength, but it didn’t budge. Frustration made her muscles bunch. “I can’t get it.”
“On the count of three, I’ll jump and you push. Between the two of us, we can get it open.”
On three, Ward jumped and Hannah shoved her palms against the ceiling with all her force, very aware of the strong arms wrapped around her legs. Nothing.
“Let’s try it again,” he suggested.
“No. Outside of using my head as a battering ram, I don’t think we’re going to get it open. It’s probably not the trap door anyway. Maybe it’s just a replacement tile and that’s why it felt funny.”
“Okay.” He loosened the hold around her legs and eased her down, along his body. A delicious friction erupted between them as she slid down, her skirt riding up. His hair-rough legs tickled her bare thighs.
Her toes touched the floor and she backpedaled in a desperate attempt to move away from his masculine heat. He steadied her with a hand to her shoulder,