What in the name of all that was holy had she been thinking?

Storming through the cocktail lounge towards the lobby, Grace wracked her brain and tried to figure out what had ever convinced her to kiss Mark Donovan.

That morning in the villa, she’d arrived frustrated, thoroughly pissed at Marcus for never being where he was supposed to be, never doing what he was supposed to do.

She’d been furious with Jasper, for so many reasons. For toying with her. For taking advantage of her obvious crush, for humiliating her with his callous dismissal.

And she’d been incensed with herself. She’d known who Jasper was. Or she’d thought she had. Had known they weren’t in a serious relationship and were never going to be. But that didn’t mean his rejection had hurt less, that the dent to her pride had been any less deep.

Still, none of that made up for her glaring error in judgment, made up for a moment in which she’d allowed vulnerability and maybe just a little bit of loneliness to drive her into the lap of that exasperating man.

Why Mark, of all people? He was domineering, arrogant, and demanding.

Rude, abrasive, and self-satisfied. A certified asshole. Exactly the kind of guy she should want an ocean’s width away.

Yet, despite the fury and self-recriminating shame pounding through her, Grace couldn’t forget the possessive heat of his kiss, the solid strength of him beneath her thighs. Or the guileless look he’d given her that morning months ago, a look as open as it had been deep, as tempting as it had been hopeful.

Cursing under her breath, Grace told herself that she preferred the hard, flat, emotionless stare of Mark the businessman to the vivid, velvet depths of Mark the lover any day of the week. And twice on Sundays.

Because the first one she could handle. No matter how obnoxious or infuriating.

The second one? Well, that was a different problem all together.

* * *

After his new employees returned to their departments, Mark gave himself a moment to breathe. Looking around the staff lounge, he was thankful that the windows were limited to the back of the room, lush tropical vegetation obscuring the view out. And concealing the view in.

Loosening his tie and dragging his fingers through his hair, Mark dropped into a chair in the far corner. As far away from where she’d been sitting as possible.

Grace Fitzgerald.

It’s not like he hadn’t thought about her. A lot. What it would be like to see her again, to breathe in her soft, exotic scent, to watch her thoughts dance through the cool gray swirl of her eyes. Oh, no. He’d thought about her, dreamed about her. Hell, fantasized about her. Pretty much every hour since he’d first tasted her mouth and felt the erotic press of her against his groin.

In the silence of the lounge, Mark heard the groan that escaped unbidden and rubbed his eyes, hoping to erase the memory of her perched on his lap, beautiful and wanton.

What a mess that morning had been. The ache of the cut on his forehead. The call that had interrupted them. Shit, even the embarrassment of being found unconscious and more than a little drunk on the floor of his villa. Despite all of it, the last thing he’d wanted Grace to do was leave. And he’d been on the verge of convincing her not to when he’d learned who was raising hell in the lobby.

Christina Avery. Eternal pain in the ass and now-ex-wife of his best friend and business partner, Jack Avery. Uninvited and unwelcome, Christina’s arrival on the island had practically destroyed Jack’s new-found relationship with Sadie Carter, the event planner who’d been running their company’s big-ticket events for years, and the woman Jack had been in love with for just as long.

That day had made a shitty week even worse. Mark and Jack had barely managed to salvage their positions at their own firm after Mark’s uncle Max had attempted to turn the board against them. And while the friends had exposed Max’s scheme just in time to save their own skin, Jack had told Mark that same night that he was stepping down as EVP in order to pursue a relationship with Sadie. Mark hadn’t been thrilled, but he hadn’t been surprised either. He’d known his friend would do whatever it took to keep Sadie. Which made everything that happened next so much worse.

First, Christina had shown up. Which would have just been awkward if Jack had already come clean and told Sadie that, though separated for years, he and Christine were still technically married. But he hadn’t. So awkward hadn’t even begun to cover it.

As soon as Grace had told him that Christina had arrived, Mark had rushed to Jack’s room. He’d hoped to give his friend the heads up but hadn’t made it in time. At least not for that.

What none of them had known was that while Jack was confronting Christina in the lobby, the hotel employee who’d become obsessed with Sadie had snuck into Jack’s villa and found her sunbathing naked by the pool, a circumstance he’d interpreted as an invitation to sexually proposition her. Forcefully and against her will. Thankfully, Mark had arrived just in time to haul the asshole away. Sadie had managed to bloody him up, but God knows what Jasper would have done if Mark hadn’t shown up when he did.

As if that wasn’t awful enough, Jasper had been the one to tell Sadie about Jack’s wife. So it hadn’t been surprising that the fallout for the couple had been near fatal. Sadie had broken things off and left the island that same day, while Jack had fallen into a drunken, despondent stupor. No amount of rational discussion or physical threats could drag him from his pity party. Which was how both men had ended up staying on the island for an additional week. Jack near comatose and refusing to let anyone into his villa, and Mark doing everything possible to drag him back to reality—and the mainland—before he was so unrecognizable Sadie would never take him back, no matter how much he groveled.

During that entire time, Mark had tried to pretend that the kiss with Grace had never happened. It had occurred in a moment of weakness, he told himself. It had been a diversion. An impulsive decision born of too much alcohol and a residual panic he couldn’t suppress. And once sober, Mark had known that the last thing he needed was another distraction. Not when he was determined to pour all his energy into paying Max back for his betrayal.

So, he’d avoided Grace as much as possible, always making himself scarce when she showed up to try to coax Jack from the villa. He’d limited how often he ventured to the main part of the resort, keeping to his well-stocked rooms and private pool. That was the beauty of a place like the Seven Winds: anything and everything that he could possibly want, they could deliver. All except the fiery, intoxicating woman filling his dreams at night and fueling the fantasies for his self-gratifying showers each morning.

Even now, Mark couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there. The jolt his system felt every time he got within a twenty-foot radius of Grace. Christ, especially this morning. Mark had prepared himself. Or so he’d thought. Banishing his memory of her flushed skin and eager lips and budded nipples, Mark had reminded himself—forcefully—before the meeting that sex with Grace wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever. Because he needed something from her that was much more important. Regardless of how much the unrelenting hardness below his belt petitioned otherwise.

But fuck. He’d practically heard the tremor that shook his willpower when she walked into the room. The gray dress had flawlessly highlighted her tempting curves while bringing out the stormy color of her eyes. Her legs had looked endless in her elegant pumps. And his fingers had burned with the need to slowly pull every pin from her hair and unwind the sleek, gold strands until they teased the tips of her breasts.

Even then, it was the look she gave him that did the most to threaten his resolve. Surprise and confusion had quickly morphed into suspicion and anger. Yet somewhere in between, Mark swore he’d seen a flash of lust, basic, carnal, and undeniable. Which made his situation harder. Literally. But also sent a pulse of satisfaction running through him. Because maybe, just maybe, Grace knew something about the frustration he suffered daily. Wanting something he couldn’t have, craving something he shouldn’t want.

Standing up, Mark gave his cuffs a sharp tug and resettled his suit jacket across his shoulders. Sleeping with Grace might not be a possibility, but that didn’t mean he was entirely out of options. If he was tormented by their attraction, there was an equal chance Grace was too. Mark might find his clothes uncomfortably tight and his pulse alarmingly fast whenever she was around, but he was getting the distinct impression that Grace was suffering a similar discomfort.

Good, he thought, a small smile breaking free. That meant he wasn’t alone. And, as much as he was reluctant to admit it, Mark was weary of going through things alone.

He’d be subtle. He couldn’t jeopardize her role in what he had planned for the Seven Winds. But this was a game he knew how to play, and play well. He was Mark Donovan. CEO of D&A International and now sole owner of Donovan Holdings. A man considered equally brilliant in the boardroom and the bedroom. A man who had honed his tactical skills over years of battles lost but wars won. A man who knew how to set a woman on fire without getting singed, who knew how to fly high without getting scorched by the sun.

Stepping into the hotel’s cocktail lounge, Mark felt excitement surge in his blood. Being with Grace might be off limits, but Mark didn’t need to suffer alone. Not this time.

Oh, he thought to himself, this is going to be fun.

* * *

After the Fall, book two in the Seven Winds Series, is available on .