“Oh, dear lord,” she muttered. Her head fell back.

  Stretching her out on the water, he cradled her and ran his tongue across her skin where her bathing suit top stopped. She gasped. Leaning back, he told her, “This has to come off.” He pulled at the strings to her bikini top, freeing her breasts. He could see her nipples harden, so he bent to take one into his mouth.

  She gave another moan and wrapped her hand around his neck. “Beach,” she muttered. She pulled out of his reach and swam for the shore. He followed her. Out of the surf, she pulled her bikini top off. She looked delicious in the last of the twilight, her skin glistening from the water, her breasts high and taut.

  Grabbing her by the waist, he picked her up and fell to his knees beside their towels. Spreading her out on the towels and sand, he sat back on his heels and smiled at her. “Now’s the time to say something if this is moving too fast.”

  Chapter Seven

  Karen bit her lower lip. The way Mike was staring at her—like she was the last drink of water on the island—began to leave her a little self conscious. Sitting up, she crossed her arms over her chest. Mike grabbed her wrists. “Don’t hide yourself. Ever. You’re more than beautiful. You’re like some mermaid now—or a sea nymph.”

  She gave a laugh. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”

  He grinned. “Only the wet ones just out of the ocean.” He leaned over and took her lips with his again, his kiss deep. Pressing her back on the sand, she wiggled a little. She could feel his erection pressing against her, hot and hard. She put her hands on his chest and traced the lean muscle.

  His body was perfect—a mass of sculpted muscle. The hair on his legs brushed against her skin, a soft tease. Only a light dusting of hair covered his chest, and she loved how it felt brushing over her nipples as he shifted and moved. His hand slid down to her hip and she felt him tugging at the string that held up her bikini bottoms. She sucked in her breath as the wet fabric slipped away.

  He moved his hand to the inside of her thigh, gave a soft stroke, and whispered to her, “Open for me.”

  Mesmerized by him, by that low, throaty need in his voice, she spread her legs.

  He looked down at her, his eyes dark in the twilight, but she could see the moonlight starting to give his skin a pale glow. Damp drops clung to his chest and arms, and his wet hair curled wildly. Kissing her again, he touched her and she gasped. She tightened her hands on his shoulders. Lifting up, he grinned down at her, then started moving down her body, kissing her nipples, then her belly, and finally the inside of her thigh.

  She could feel the wetness and heat gather. She put a hand on his shoulder. He settled between her legs and gave a long swipe of his tongue across her folds. She bucked against him, but he held her hips down and did it again and then again. She was panting. A cool breeze ruffled her skin and his hair, but Mike’s heat warmed her. He took her clit into his mouth next and sucked hard, and then flicked the end with his tongue.

  “Oh god! Please!” She didn’t even know what she was begging for. Release—or for him to stop.

  Digging her fingernails into his shoulders, she clung to him. The waves of pleasure hit like a sharp ocean swell, sweeping over her, leaving her light headed, gasping and trembling. She put her palm on his face to still him. He lifted up and trailed kisses to her hip and then to her mouth—he tasted like salt and like her.

  She trailed one finger just under the rim of his shorts. “Turnabout’s fair play.” She grinned at him. Pushing on his chest, she rolled him onto his back and pressed her palm on the length of his erection. He arched and moaned deeply. She got his shorts open and slipped his cock out into the air. Her turn to gasp now. He was bigger than any of her other boyfriends had been—thick and long. She licked her lips and then kissed the head of his cock.

  His hips jerked and he moaned again, but he kept his hands flat on the towel and his eyes closed. She took him into her mouth as far as she could and sucked hard. She could barely fit him, so she gripped his cock with her hand and started to rub. His hips jerked again and his cock hit the back of her throat. He moaned deeply.

  She put her hand on his belly and wiggled into a better position. She pressed the heel of her palm into his balls. He gave another moan. She pushed harder. She could feel he was close—his balls pulled up tight and he began to leak. With a last hard suck, she lifting up and pressed his cock between her breasts. With a shudder and a moan, he spurted out hot and salty onto her and onto his stomach, and then went slack on the sand.

  “In a word—wow,” he muttered. He held out his arms. “Come here, will you?”

  “Cuddling? Seriously? How about we wash up in the surf and head back.”

  “Two seconds for recovery, okay?”

  She gave a chuckle and lay down next to him, propping herself up on one elbow. With her foot she traced what looked like a network of spider webs on his knee. “Just how many surgeries did you have on that?”

  “Not something I want to talk about.” He cracked open one eye. “You’re… different.”

  She smiled and toyed with one dark curl that kept falling down into his eyes. “Why? Because I’m ready to go back in the water? Just what kind of girls do you date in New York?”

  He pulled a face. “Not your kind, obviously. They’re more the ‘oh, I broke a nail it’s a national emergency’ types.”

  “Why would you date them?”

  Lifting a hand, he let it fall again. “They generally come without strings attached. I’m not the settling down type.”

  “And I am?” She frowned and slapped his chest. “Come on, handyman. Time to wash up and get back.” She pushed up and brushed the sand from her hands. Heading into the water, she dove in, came up sputtering and dove down again. Satisfied she’d washed his smell off her, she came back to find Mike still sitting on the towels. She grabbed one out from under him, wrapped it around her and started hunting for her bikini.

  When she found both parts, she straightened. And found Mike staring at her. “What?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

  “I think that’s supposed to be my line.” He stood up and straightened out his shorts. “I don’t usually…”

  “Have sex on a first not-a-date? Look, I like my island, I like my own company. And I’m not saying this has to mean anything other than we both needed some stress relief. And we got it.”

  Hands on his hips, he stared at her. She’d never known anyone who could stand that still or seem that focused. “Really? That’s it for you?”

  She shrugged, grabbed the other towel, shook it out and held it out to him. “Why would it be more? We’re grown adults—at least I am. It was good. And I don’t need a repeat or anything more.” Turning, she headed up the trail and back to the hotel.

  Chapter Eight

  Her casualness was pissing him off.

  Glaring at her backside, or what he could see of it swaying under the towel, he muttered, “Fine. If that’s what you want, that’s okay with me.”

  Throwing his towel over his shoulder, he followed her back to the hotel’s main building and headed back to his tiny room. He slammed the door behind him and began to peel off his shorts—now stiff with sand and salt water. He wanted a shower, but he wasn’t about to ask Miss I’m-Fine for one.

  And he didn’t know why he was so upset.

  He should be happy she didn’t want anything else from him. This was the perfect kind of sex—a good time and over with.

  So why did he feel like a piece of used meat. Is that what the women in his past had felt like? No, he been nicer to them. Much nicer. There’d been dinners and plays and breakfast the day after—and sometimes a second or third date. And romance—there had been plenty of romance.

  There should have been some tonight—hell, this was a Pacific island paradise, complete with fragrant trade winds, magical moonlight, and a balmy night that should have them strolling back hand-in-hand.

  But Karen….all she seemed to care about was this damn hotel. He didn’t understand that. He ran a hand through his hair and flopped down on his bed. Okay, maybe he did get part of it. This hotel gave her a connection to her folks—he’d have given anything at one point in his life to have had that. But he’d gotten past that. He and Zach had built a business—but now with Zach married, it was time for some fresh direction. Zach had started it by setting up the Collins Institute for the preservation of farm land and open space. Mike wanted to take that up a level—it was time to get into eco-tourism and making that open space really attractive by tying it to luxury resorts that offered first class get-aways.

  Karen’s hotel was ideal—if she’d sell, or at least bring in investors like those that the Collins Institute could offer. But there was that damn stubborn pride of hers. That might keep her from any deals—of any kind.

  Mike let out a breath.

  Well, one thing was for sure. Nothing he could do about anything tonight. Except get some sleep.

  Mike woke early, opted for a morning swim on the beach instead of a shower. He came into the hotel to find the other guests already at breakfast in the main room, and talking about visiting one of the local Fijian villages. Not that I’m a guest, he thought, and glanced down at his uniform of a shirt and shorts. He gave everyone a wave and a smile and headed for the kitchen.

  He found a note from Karen about heading off for supplies, so Mike headed back to the generator. He made a list of parts he thought he might need, and then he glanced around. The shed that held the generator looked as if one more storm would send the whole thing flying. The roof needed patching and the walls some timber to lock them down. He spent the day cleaning out the shack, shoring it up, and nailing it down again. Some of the lumber that had been useful to batten down the shutters and windows came in handy, and he ended up sweaty, grubby and in desperate need of a shower.

  Poking around the hotel he found a bathroom just off the employee locker room. It offered a claw foot tub, and running water, and he scrubbed up. He also decided it was about time to try and get his suit into some kind of shape. He found the laundry room—he usually took everything to the cleaner’s, but he doubted he’d find one on the island. Setting it for delicate, he washed his coat, shirt, pants, socks, and underwear. He also dug out an iron. The years of him being on his own with Zach were at least paying off—he’d learned the basics of self-care and housework, even if he hated them.

  Karen still hadn’t come back from her shopping, so Mike fixed dinner and invited the other guests to join him. Good thing you could stretch spaghetti a long way. The Nessers were leaving tomorrow—they’d hired the sea plane that serviced the island to take them back to Fiji. Mike’s mouth watered at the thought of getting off this island, but without money—and no credit cards—he was stuck. Unless Karen started paying him a wage, he was here until the phones were at least working so he could connect with civilization.

  He did bum a call off Ted Gunderson and found the cell towers were still out—no signal. Ted gave him a shrug as Mike handed the phone back. “I kind of like it.”

  Juilet grinned and nodded. “No Internet. No calls. I haven’t had this much peace in my life—ever.” The two of them strolled off to watch the sunset and Mike sat on the porch, a glass of iced tea in his hands. That was just what this place should be—a paradise. All it needed was better marketing.

  He spent the rest of the evening thinking up plans that would put this place on the map—it only needed the money to execute. He started to wonder if Karen was just cheap, or strapped for cash. Given the lack of guests, he’d guess the latter, but why hadn’t she gotten a better set up from her folks? Had they skimped that much on their insurance, leaving her with less capital than she needed?

  Giving up on Karen, Mike headed to bed.

  Chapter Nine

  A heavy pounding on his door woke him the next day.

  “Rise and shine. We’ve got work!” Mike gave a groan, but he rolled out of bed, dressed, and found Karen in the kitchen, making coffee.

  She wouldn’t meet his eye as she talked, listing a day of work that sounded more like a week’s worth of effort. Finally, he stepped in front of her. “This is you being okay with what happened between us?”

  She blinked and backed up a step. “Told you. I’m fine. Now let’s get going on the huts. I need them ready for next week.”

  The huts turned out to be four one-room palm-thatched shacks. All of them had porches with perfect ocean views. Mike glanced around at the unfinished wooden floors, the worn and dated furniture, and the sky that he could see through the roof. “These don’t need work. They need a match and a sack of marshmallows that you can roast as they burn.”

  Frowning, she glanced at him. “They’re fine. They just need…a little—”

  “Fire accelerant? You’ve got the location here, but not the amenities. Ever thought about taking in an investor?”

  She stiffened. “My folks ran this place on their own.”

  “And that makes it great for you to do the same?” He shook his head.

  Turning on him, she braced her hands on her hips. “Are you going to help, or what?”

  Holding up his hands, he smiled. “Hey, you’re the boss. Speaking of which, when’s payday? I get I’m working for room and board, but how about throwing in enough money I may be able to get off this chunk of sand someday?”

  Her mouth thinned and tightened. Worry flooded her eyes and she looked away. “We can talk about that later.”

  He gave a nod. Great—she wasn’t just hanging onto this place because it had been her folks’ hotel. She was hanging on to it by her fingernails—and probably by a prayer.

  By the end of the day, Mike’s back was aching, and his knee twinged with a reminder he wasn’t a kid anymore. In the kitchen, he stopped for a long drink of water. When he looked up from the glass he saw Karen watching him from the doorway. “Problem?” he asked.

  She held up two DVDs. “Only that I can’t decide what to watch. I thought you could…we could watch a movie.”

  He knew an olive branch when he saw one. Putting down his water glass in the sink, he asked, “I thought we didn’t have electricity?”

  “You’ve never heard of a battery operated DVD player? I’ve got five hours of battery and time for one movie.” She glanced at the covers. “How about Three Kings or Godfather? With beer and pretzels?”

  “You’re on.”

  Leading the way, she headed for the main room. She opened a wardrobe to reveal an entertainment center. A small, portable DVD player sat on top of a larger, plug-in model.

  “Nice,” he said. “Oh, that reminds me, tomorrow I need to look at that generator of yours. I got the shack that’s holding it fixed up, and it may be as simple a job as cleaning it out and fresh fuel in it.”

  She turned to him and held up a finger. “Rule one on movie night—no work talk allowed.”

  He slumped onto the couch. “What’s rule two?”

  She grinned. “There is no rule two, but it always sounds better if you number things.”

  “You have the makings of a marketing person after all. Now are we talking or watching movies here?”

  Chapter Ten

  They settled down on the sofa in the main room. Karen fiddled with the DVD player—it had been too long since she’d last used it and she could barely remember how to turn it on.

  Overly aware of Mike, she glanced over her shoulder at him. He sat relaxed on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, a beer dangling from his fingers as he glanced around the room. She looked, too, wondering what he'd say.

  She’d tried to make the main room homey and inviting, with photos of her parents, large, comfortable chairs, and end tables scattered around. Now she thought the chairs and the sofa all looked a little shabby. She needed a new rug to replace the straw mat covering on the floor—and the floors needed refinishing. The room also could use fresh paint—the off white looked more like tan these days. She let out a breath—so much to do. But it was movie night tonight—the first night she’d taken off in months.

  Getting the movie playing, she came back and sat next to Mike—with a bowl of pretzels between them. It had been stupid to avoid him for a day, but she’d needed to establish her own space. He…he was just too much sometimes. Too charming, too pushy, too…too everything. Like today when he’d told her she should just torch the huts. No way was she doing that. Those huts had been her dad’s idea, and she was going to make it work. Somehow. She sipped her beer and tried not to think about the stack of bills waiting for her attention—with Lyle’s demand for payment in full on top.

  Bastard. She was sure now he’d romanced her—and had offered the loan—just to get the property. And she’d fallen for it. She’d been grieving, and he’d seemed to offer her a strong shoulder to lean on. She should have known better. Money always came with strings attached—and she’d been a fool not to realize that.

  Well, at least she was done letting guys take advantage of her. From now on, she was going for guys without any kinds of strings attached.

  Reaching for a pretzel, she brushed Mike’s fingers with hers. Her face flamed hot. She could remember all too clearly what those clever fingers had done to her the other day. And, yeah, that was the kind of arrangement she wanted—a quick fling and done.

  She kept her stare locked on the movie—but she couldn’t even say what was going on. She could hear Mike shift on the couch, could hear him swallow his beer. The next time his fingers brushed hers and her breath caught in her throat.

  The tension between them seemed to crackle in the room. She fought her own pull toward him. Over and done, she told herself. She was willing to bet he didn’t want the complication of a relationship—not when he was leaving as soon as he could. And she didn’t need a pushy guy like him around. Nope—standing on her own two feet was best.