“I didn’t order anything,” she called back.

  “Room service,” he said again.

  Men. Did they all have it in for her lately? She got up and went to the door. “I didn’t order anything.”

  This time, his answer was garbled enough that she couldn’t make it out at all. She opened the door.

  A man stood on the other side, hidden behind a bouquet of helium balloons. In his free hand, he held a wine bucket with the neck of a champagne bottle sticking out the top.

  “I didn’t order anything,” she said for the third time. He ignored her and brushed past her into the room.

  Well, this was a nice distraction. She could chew on him for a few minutes and forget her troubles. That ought to get rid of her headache.

  When he released the balloons and they floated up to the ceiling, she almost smacked herself for being so obtuse. “Ethan.”

  He set the wine bucket on the table and pulled the bottle out. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry I beat you for the job.”

  “Don’t be,” he said. “I’m glad for you.”

  Which brought them to the question of why he’d come here. He might have only meant to give her good wishes, but the look on his face—a combination of slyness and happiness to see her—said he had more reasons for this visit. Sex, no doubt. One last one-night stand.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re glad you lost the job opportunity.”

  “Yup. You know the expression that when the universe closes a door, a window opens or something like that?”

  “You’re going into the platitude business?”

  He pulled the cork from the champagne. It made a loud pop but didn’t gush wine, thank heaven. “Glasses?”

  “Ethan, what are you doing?”

  “Never mind. I’ll find them myself.” He disappeared inside the bathroom. After a moment, he reappeared with two plastic glasses, each half full. He held one out to her and didn’t move until she took it.

  “Here’s to your new job.” He lifted his glass in a toast. “And here’s to our new negotiations.”

  She paused in the act of sipping her champagne and lowered her glass. “What new negotiations would those be?”

  “For our continuing partnership. You see, I’m calling bullshit on all your reasons we have to say good-bye.”

  “Oh really.”

  “You see, for a brilliant mind, you came up with some amazingly dumb premises,” he said. “First, that you’re not the sort of person who likes sucking on cocksicles or watching your lover come or getting your little butt slapped. You do like those things.”

  She didn’t answer. What could she say? She’d pretty much decided the same thing just before he came in.

  “And you know what? There’s nothing wrong with that,” he went on. “The only sin is trying to deny your own nature.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Freud. Be sure to send a bill.”

  “Joke all you want,” he said. “You know I’m right.”

  “Okay.” She took a gulp of her wine. “You are.”

  “I am?” His jaw dropped. “That is, damned straight I am.”

  “So, what are we negotiating now?” She looked him straight in the eye. She had a pretty good idea what his answer would be.

  “A future, Laura. I’m not settling for anything else.”

  “We’ve been through this. We’ll be in separate parts of the country. I’m not going to see my lover on alternate weekends.” For heaven’s sake, she’d actually used the word lover in relation to Ethan Gould.

  “That was your second dumb premise,” he said. “Do you honestly think I’d accept an arrangement like that?”

  “So, where are you going to work? Beaumont’s store?”

  “I’ve wanted to start my own business for years, but I couldn’t think of anything I had a real passion for,” he said. “Now, I have. Mountain cabins.”

  “Like your friend’s.” The one where she’d spent the finest days of her life. With him.

  “I did some research, worked up some spreadsheets and a business plan,” he said. “Jeff and I are going into business. Right here.”

  “You’ll make a mint.”

  “I plan to, which brings me to the last question.” He took her glass and set both of their drinks on the desk. Then he turned back to her and, without asking permission, put his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. “Where do you and I go from here?”

  “Go?” she repeated. “I didn’t know we had travel plans.”

  “Oh, we do.” The light of mischief in his amber eyes warmed into something more lethal. Not the easy charm she’d seen dozens of times but the knowledge they shared of each other—a connection that would take months or years to break, if it could be broken at all.

  “I’m going to take you to heaven and back. Multiple times a day,” he said. “Now that I’m staying here, you can move in with me.”

  “I don’t suppose I have any say in the matter.”

  “We can haggle for a while.” He gave her a slow grin. “I’ll win in the end.”

  She couldn’t help but gaze up into his face. “Insane, obstinate man.”

  “I see I have to sweeten the deal,” he said. “Okay. Besides my talents in the sack, I’m a pretty good cook.”

  “That you are.”

  “I won’t stick you with all the housework. I’ll even do your laundry.”

  “Now, I know you’re crazy,” she said. “A man doing laundry?”

  “You bet. Where else are you going to find an offer like that?”

  “Nowhere, I guess.” Why should she continue to fight the inevitable? He’d solved the geography problem. She’d see him around town, if not by coincidence then because he’d put himself in her way. When she saw him, she’d want him. She’d end up spending all her free time in his bed. They might as well combine households so that he’d be around all the time to scratch her sexual itches. “All right, you’ve convinced me.”

  He heaved a sigh of relief. “Finally.”

  “You were worried? Ethan Gould thought a woman could refuse him?”

  “The stakes were high. I didn’t have anything better to offer than laundry.”

  “Oh, but you know you did.” She wiggled against him, creating friction against the front of his pants.

  He made a soft growling noise in his throat. “Good thing we’re near a bed.”

  “Ah, but negotiations aren’t over yet,” she said. “I have one more demand.”

  “Anything.”

  “Build me one of those cabins.”

  “You got it, baby.”

  This time, he kissed her for real. His mouth captured hers with his usual skill, teasing and cajoling until she could scarcely breathe for all the joy of having him again. Her heart sped up, and her blood pounded in her ears. She could have him now. Over and over. Whenever and however she wanted him. Soon, the whole universe disappeared except for the lips on hers, the arms that held her, and his firm body against her softer one.

  After a minute, he pulled back, his breath coming hard. “Is it hot in here?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Heat rises.”

  She eased her hand between their bodies, searching for the impression of his swelling member and finding it. “It certainly does.”

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  STORM BOUND,

  the next book in Alice Gaines’s

  steamy Cabin Fever series,

  coming in July 2012

  from Avon Red

  Chapter One

  CHRISTIE LOVEJOY STARED glumly at the image of the natural disaster that was going to ruin her sex life. Thanks to the resort’s wifi, she could sit on the terrace in sun-drenched paradise and follow the approaching weather patterns on her laptop. A certain bastard named Fred was building to a fierce tropical storm. He’d soon become a hurricane and come crashing over Santa Inez Island. Her guests—the potential clients she’d lured here so they could send huge amounts of business to her company’s latest project—would have to evacuate or be stuck here for several days.

  The phrases “her sex life” and “potential clients” didn’t belong anywhere near each other, of course. Very bad business practice. But her libido was getting ready to make an exception for these two. Instead of middle-aged-men with wedding rings and more paunch than hair, fate had sent her two fine male specimens. They’d arrived to spend three days with her in almost total isolation in one of the most romantic locations on Earth. Sunny days and balmy nights with no one else to distract them. That was until Fred had decided to crash the party.

  Not far from her table, Wolf Martin and Jon Tucker were engaged in a game of one-on-one basketball. Most people, when offered miles of pristine beaches and warm breezes would stretch out under an umbrella and read a book or doze off. These two swam—hard—racing each other with firm strokes. When Wolf won that, Jon challenged him to hoops, which they entered with the same savage competitive spirit. You’d think them enemies instead of friends and partners. No matter. All this physical play gave her a view of their bodies in motion, and what a feast for the eyes that was.

  Jon used his height advantage to soar over his partner as he approached the net for a dunk. Muscles in his back and shoulders flexed. Not an ounce of extra flesh or unnecessary movement marred his perfection as he arced through the air. Wolf didn’t back down but charged up under him, tangling his arms with Jon’s to block the shot. The two seemed to hang in the air, frozen in time. A work of erotic art Michelangelo could have created if he had sculpted with human flesh.

  How in hell was she supposed to keep her mind on business with that going on just out of her reach? Watching the two of them in action would send any healthy female’s imagination into overdrive. Hers had certainly slipped into high gear as she imagined each of them as her lover.

  Jon would feel smooth under her palms as she eased her hands down his back to his buttocks, feeling the muscles work as they coupled. He’d go slowly at first. Exploring. And then faster as they became more and more aroused until they came, clutching at each other.

  Or she’d have Wolf. All animal, that one, right down to his name. He’d appeared almost tame in his business suit. Now he looked as if he could burst out of his swim trunks and snug t-shirt. Where Jon floated gracefully, Wolf charged. He’d be the same in the sack. No nonsense. Just the sort of fast, hard fuck that could overpower his lover with orgasm after orgasm.

  Damn it all. She shouldn’t become this excited just watching two men playing basketball, no matter how attractive. She especially shouldn’t put herself into a position where she could embarrass herself over potential business partners. She should be pointing out the assets of the resort and how it made a perfect location for their trademark adventure and sensuality tours. Yet, here she sat with her heart racing and her pussy muscles clenching in hopes of finding hard male flesh to fill her. Maybe tropical storm Fred would do her a favor, after all, and get the two of them away from her before she disgraced herself completely.

  “No points for that. You fouled me,” Wolf said. The streaks of gray at his temples gave him a salt-and-pepper coloring, much like the fur of a silver wolf. With angular features and piercing blue eyes, he had an air of danger to him. Definitely predatory but in a way that made the prey want to be captured.

  “Bullshit,” Jon answered. “You’re playing out of your league.”

  Jon stood a few inches taller than Wolf and used his height to his advantage. He went right up to his partner, staring down at him. His long fingers allowed him to hold the ball in one hand. A caress of sorts, the way he might palm her breast.

  “We’ll ask Christie.” Wolf turned toward her. “Did he foul me or not?”

  “Hmm?” She mentally shook away the forbidden images in her head. “Sorry. I wasn’t watching.”

  That wasn’t exactly a lie. She hadn’t taken her eyes off either of them since they’d stepped out of the hotel wearing their swim trunks. But as closely as she’d scrutinized their every movement, she hadn’t paid any attention to the ball or followed the rules of the game. She’d been too busy fantasizing about finding herself trapped between them while four hands roamed over her, unclasping her bra and cupping her breasts, or strong fingers dipping into her panties to find her wet and ready.

  “See?” Jon said. “She agrees with me.”

  “Grow up, will you?” Wolf loped over to her table, picked up a bottle of water, and took a long drink. This close, she could almost feel heat rolling off him. Probably just a breeze warmed by the sun, but it carried some kind of pheromone that sent a primitive signal to her brain. Male.

  “I’m sorry my partner is behaving so unprofessionally,” he said.

  “Not a problem. We want you two to experience the resort the way your customers will,” she said.

  Wolf tugged his t-shirt over his head and used it to wipe away a sheen of sweat. One drop remained, trickling slowly down the center of his torso toward his trunks. It would probably taste like the salt from the edge of a margarita if she had the guts to lean over and lick it away. She didn’t, though. Neither did she let her gaze drift downward into more dangerous territory. She’d tried that maneuver with both of them earlier and luckily hadn’t been noticed. She couldn’t stay lucky forever.

  When she glanced back up, she met an assessing stare from Wolf. If he hadn’t read her mind, his own thoughts were traveling in the same direction. Both of the men had been sending signals since they’d arrived the afternoon before. Much of their masculine display seemed calculated to win her favor, the way male animals vied for mates in the wild. She’d dated as much as the next woman and had taken her share of lovers over the years. But she’d never had two men in competition for her before.

  The knowledge made her lightheaded. She only had to let them fight for her favors and decide which one to accept and under what terms. At least she would have—if the tropical storm had chosen some other place to make landfall.

  “We’ve been enjoying ourselves,” Wolf said. “That doesn’t excuse my partner’s foul language.”

  Jon stopped dribbling, tucked the ball under his arm, and yelled, “Sanctimonious prick.”

  “Asshole.” Wolf turned and flung his t-shirt in the general direction of his partner.

  Christie had to laugh. “I thought you two were friends.”

  “We are.” Wolf pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “We close ranks in negotiations.”

  “I hope to experience that for myself soon.”

  One eyebrow went up. “The resort?”

  “Of course.”

  “Because, um . . .” He leaned closer, his blue gaze meeting hers. “There’s something else the two of us can negotiate alone.”

  There it was. The opening volley. She’d give him an answer that indicated her interest, and they’d work out the details. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Until she remembered that damnable Fred.

  Before she had a chance to respond, Jon joined them. Well over six feet tall and with sandy hair and bronzed skin, he might have been a sun god. Even the soft brown of his eyes appeared golden in the right light. Right now, those eyes were trained on her breasts, and when he finally looked into her face, he sent the same message silently that his partner had just put into words. He wanted her. Oh sweet Lord.

  “So what’s on for this evening?” Jon asked. It might have sounded innocent except for the light of sexual interest in his gaze.

  “Nothing, I’m afraid.” She turned the laptop toward them. “There’s a hurricane on its way. We have to evacuate.”

  “Evacuate?” Wolf glanced up at Jon and then back to her. “I thought this resort was hurricane proof.”

  “We are, except for the most extreme. This won’t cause much damage, if any.” She’d already filled them in on the details of the resort. The hotel sat high enough on a hill above the ocean to escape even the highest storm surge. Most of their power came from solar cells that stored electricity created on sunny days. What appeared to be an exercise in pure luxury was actually more a triumph of engineering. They’d listened with interest to it all. Nothing could survive a major hurricane, but the Santa Inez Resort could weather a minor one with ease.

  “If everything’s going to be fine, why should we leave?” Jon asked. “Isn’t that one of the appeals of Santa Inez—that a customer could witness a storm in the tropics without giving up the good life?”

  “If they have the time to get stuck here. That’s also a selling point—they can extend their vacation at our expense,” she said.

  “So, you’re saying if we don’t leave now we might have to stay longer than we’d planned,” Wolf said.

  “We’ll be fine, but the surrounding area won’t. Every available boat will join in search and rescue,” she said. “The airport will probably shut down.”

  “How long?” Jon asked.

  “There’s no way of knowing.” She shrugged. “Fred might fizzle out, or he might get stronger. Everything might get back to normal in a day or two, or it could take more like a week.”

  “I see.” Jon ran his fingers through his hair. “I have contract negotiations in New York on Wednesday.”

  “And I’m meeting with Komura the day after that.” Wolf sighed. “We need his business.”

  Well, there went the last hope. They could make a rationale for remaining here: if their company was to guarantee a tropical island trip during hurricane season, they’d need to know that the resort lived up to its billing for safe and comfortable accommodations. But they couldn’t stay if it meant as much as a week away from their business.

  These two executives probably never stayed in one place for more than a few days at a time. They couldn’t afford to get stuck somewhere with no idea of when they could get out. Fred had, indeed, ruined her chances at every woman’s hottest dream.