CHAPTER 4

TONY SPRAWLED on one of the lounge chairs under an versize beach umbrella that had been rigged to provide some shade near the pool. He’d hardly slept at all last night—his damsel in distress had haunted his dreams—and now he let the gentle sound of folks splashing in the pool and ordering drinks from the bar work on him like a lullaby.

Still, though, he couldn’t sleep. Thoughts of Kyra teased and taunted him.

That morning, he’d awakened fully aroused, her scent on his clothes. A cold shower had relieved some of the pressure, but it hadn’t changed one basic fact—he wanted her.

In a way, the feeling was welcome. He hadn’t wanted a woman—hadn’t let himself want a woman—since the accident. Certainly he had never let one get so close to him.

But it was a false closeness. She didn’t really know him. She’d been attracted to the chivalrous green-eyed stranger with midnight black hair.

Only none of it was real.

Tony’s own hair was near-black, but the gel made it darker. His own face was scarred, and he’d hidden it under a patch, a cap, and an evening beard that he’d happily shaved off this morning. His own eyes were a bland shade of brown, one of which changed with the help of a vivid green contact lens. He even pitched his voice differently at night.

True, he’d helped her out of a bind. But his back could only take so much more of that, and he was paying the price this morning. Besides, they were in the middle of an island fantasy. Out in the real world, he was no heroic knight—not anymore. And all the good he did on this island was nothing but cotton candy—sweet enough, but ready to dissolve in an instant. The bottom line? Michael was nothing more than an illusion.

“Hey, Tony!”

He kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep.

“Yo! Moretti!” This time the shout was accompanied by the sound of splashing water, followed by a splattering of droplets all over him.

He sat up, then looked over the rim of his sunglasses into Stuart’s smiling face.

“We’re getting up a group to play some water volleyball. Want to join in?”

“No thanks.”

Stuart hauled himself up and out of the pool, the sun gleaming on his golden hair. Unlike Tony, Stuart wasn’t ever going to have a problem with women looking the other way.

He marched over, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the slate poolside. “You’re just gonna sit here in the shade?”

Tony nodded, shifting so Stuart saw only the good side of his face. “Yup.” Stuart had already seen the scars, and to his credit, he hadn’t flinched. Tony didn’t want to give him the chance to cringe now. “I’m just going to sit here in the shade.”

Stuart plopped down in a chair opposite Tony. “Come on, guy? What fun is that? We’re supposed to get another storm tonight that might even last into tomorrow. You should get out and get some sun while you can.”

“I appreciate your concern for my tan, but I’m perfectly happy in the shade.”

“Well, it’s not just your tan, guy. We need one more person on our team.”

Tony shook his head. No way was he dragging out the scar for all to see. No way was he going to reach up to slam-dunk a volleyball only to have his back blow out in front of everybody. Just wasn’t happening. Not in this lifetime.

“You sure? We could really use—”

“Stuart,” a deep voice interrupted, “the boy said no.”

Tony tilted his head back to see C.J., the resort’s pilot, striding over.

“Hey, C.J.,” Stuart said, a little morosely. “But we need another player. How about you?”

“I don’t think so.” C.J. said, then laughed. He ducked under the umbrella and took the chair on Tony’s bad side. Tony shifted, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. In the end, he settled for pushing his sunglasses more firmly up his nose.

Now settled, C.J. peeled off his aviator glasses, revealing vivid blue eyes. Slight crow’s-feet made C.J. seem constantly happy, even though the lines probably meant nothing more than that the man had spent too much time in the sun.

“Well, heck,” Stuart said. He knew when he was defeated, though. His eyes immediately started searching the area around the pool for another victim.

Tony had just turned to C.J., when Stuart’s hand flew up. “Kyra! Hey! Over here.”

Tony’s stomach twisted. Kyra? His Kyra? Calling on every ounce of strength in his body, he managed to maintain a bland expression as he turned to look at her climbing the steps to the pool area.

She was a vision, her honey-colored hair loose in the breeze. He watched as she impatiently pushed a long strand away from her face as she looked around to see who was calling her.

This time, she wasn’t in a dress, but was wearing a pair of flower-print shorts with a jacket over what looked to be a matching swimsuit. The shorts hugged her hips, the top accentuated the swell of her breasts, and Tony tried to keep his breathing steady as he remembered the heavenly feel of every delicious inch of her pressed against him.

“Over here,” Stuart called.

She waved, then headed in their direction—in his direction. Every muscle in his body stiffened, and he fought the urge to run, afraid somehow she’d recognize him, and then any chance that Michael Moretti might have of spending another night with her would be ruined.

Disgusted with himself, he stifled a groan. The truth was, she probably wouldn’t even look twice at him. Surely she wouldn’t recognize him.

With a determined tug, he pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them on the table. Then he pulled up the back of the lounge chair, and sat up to face her, determined to hold his own.

She headed right over, flashing a smile at his companions. “Hi, C.J. Hi, Stuart.”

He was just about to mentally congratulate himself on reading her just right—she was going to ignore him—when her sleek gray eyes met his. She held out her hand, her head cocked slightly.

“Hi. I’m Kyra.”

“Tony,” he said, more gruffly than he intended. He took her outstretched hand. Any fantasy he’d held out that the sparks between them last night had been due to the lightning storm faded. Suddenly, there was just the two of them, her flesh against his, and he wanted to pull her close to him and wrap his arms around her almost as much as he wanted to yell at her to go away and never look at him again.

“Tony?” Stuart kicked the end of the lounge chair, and Tony realized he was still holding her hand. He dropped it.

She rubbed her hands together, her eyes still on his face. He could practically feel his scar burning under her critical stare.

“It’s just a scar, okay?”

She blinked. “What?”

He pointed at it. “It’s just a scar.”

Her face cleared and a horrified expression crossed her face. “Oh! No. I’m sorry. I wasn’t staring at… I mean…” She sucked in a deep breath. “It’s just that you seem so familiar. Have we met?”

“No,” he said quickly, shrinking to about two inches tall. “I’m sure I’d remember you.”

Idiot, idiot, idiot. Not only had he completely misread her, but now what if she put two and two together?

Her forehead furrowed. “Maybe in the restaurant. I don’t know. There’s something…”

“Couldn’t have been the restaurant,” Stuart said, and Tony could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Tony spent all of yesterday on one of the other islands. He only came back this morning.”

“Scoping it out for a friend,” Tony added, pleased that Merrilee’s promise that Stuart and Danielle would back his alibi had held fast. “Perhaps we’ve seen each other earlier in the week?” he suggested, knowing that was impossible, since she’d only just arrived.

She shook her head. “No. I got here yesterday.” Her smile was bright and sunny. “Well, at any rate, it’s nice to meet you now.”

“Very nice,” Tony said, relaxing against the chair. His alibi was solid. Even if she wondered about his scar and Michael’s patch, there’s no way she’d catch on now. Merrilee did her job well.

“The game, you guys,” Stuart said, almost pleading. “It’s waiting.”

Kyra frowned. “What game?”

Stuart sighed, then jerked his head impatiently toward the pool, his mop of hair flying like a member of a sixties band. “Volleyball. You’re on my team.”

“Volleyball,” she repeated, sounding almost horrified. “Oh, no. I don’t know how.” She dug a cell phone out of her mesh tote bag. “Besides, I was going to make a phone call.”

“Can’t it wait?” Stuart asked. “Where are you calling?”

“Excuse me?” She glanced at C.J. then Tony for help. He just shrugged, not at all opposed to watching Kyra in the pool.

“Where are you calling?”

“Texas,” she said, then put her hand on her hip. “Would you like a name and phone number?”

“Nah,” Stuart said, either not hearing her irritation or ignoring it. “It’s just that they’re an hour behind. So it’s only ten there, and it’s Sunday, so you oughta at least wait an hour. Let whoever you’re calling sleep in and play a game or two with us.”

Kyra looked mildly terrified. “But I’ve never… I don’t know how.”

Apparently Stuart took that as a yes, because he was up out of his chair and helping her off with her jacket. He tossed it Tony’s way. “It’s easy. You’ll have a ball.”

“Um, but…” She looked from Stuart to C.J., and then to Tony, her gaze lingering on him.

Tony grinned. “Have fun.”

“Thanks. You’re a lot of help.”

That just made his smile broader, and as Stuart led her away, he realized how much he enjoyed being near her. He’d loved the feel of her in his arms last night, but he wanted more than just to have Kyra in his bed. A lot more. And he hadn’t the faintest idea how to go about getting her.

“Nice girl,” C.J. said, pulling Tony away from the enticing view of Kyra stripping off her shorts to reveal a matching swimsuit bottom.

“Hmm?”

C.J. chuckled. “I said, nice girl.”

“Kyra?” Tony said, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Give it up, son. You’re talking to a man who’s been infatuated with a woman once or twice in his life.”

“I didn’t realize I was so transparent.” He glanced toward the pool, wondering if Kyra’d been glad to get away from the scarred guy who had the hots for her.

“Don’t worry, kid. I don’t think she noticed.”

“You read minds professionally? Or is it just a hobby?”

“I just recognize a kindred spirit when I see one.” He gestured toward the bar. “I’m not flying today. Can I buy you a beer?”

“Sure.”

The older man left for the bar as Tony wondered what he meant about kindred spirits. When C.J. came back with two ice-cold long necks, Tony didn’t waste time letting the man sit down. “You’ve got a girl on one of the islands,” he guessed.

The older man’s eyes sparkled. “Got? No. But I’m working on it.”

Tony leaned forward, his mind sifting through the possibilities. “Staff or guest?”

“What is this? Twenty questions?”

“Just curious.” Tony genuinely liked this man. C.J. was one of those salt-of-the-earth guys, the kind who looked like they carried around a ton of baggage, yet never let it get to them. The kind of man who deserved to be genuinely off-the-scale happy, but always seemed to come in a few points short. “So who is she?”

“Not yet, buddy.” C.J. took a long swallow of beer. “I like you, kid, I really do. And maybe one of these days I’ll tell you. In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret from Kyra if you keep mine to yourself, okay?”

Tony chuckled, but nodded, and they watched the game in companionable silence until C.J. stood up. “Time for me to go clean out the plane.” He polished off the rest of his beer. “Remember my advice, kid. You want to get to know Miss Cartwright, you have to work for it.”

“What if she doesn’t want me?”

C.J. shrugged. “Change her mind. Figure out some way to make her want you.” He leaned closer. “All’s fair in love and war.”

“You really think I can?”

The older man tossed his empty bottle toward the trashcan, hitting the center dead-on. “I think there comes a point in your life when you just have to go after what you want and damn the consequences.” He stood up, clapping Tony on the shoulder, then leaned over, close to his ear. “Take it from one who knows—it’s better to learn that lesson when you’re young. Less catching up to do.”

Tony leaned back to catch C.J.’s eye, but the pilot had already slipped his glasses back on, the mirrored frames making it impossible to read his expression. He nodded at Tony, then headed off, his last words, think about it, hanging in the air.

Tony did. He thought about it a lot as he watched Kyra fumble at trying to learn how to play water volleyball, her face lit with laughter. They could be friends; he’d seen it in her eyes. But never in a million years would a woman—any woman—be interested in broken, scarred Tony Moretti as a lover. Not even a woman as special as Kyra.

But her mysterious Michael…

That was a different story.

He stroked his chin as a wild, decadent, impossible thought flashed through his mind.

Maybe, just maybe, Tony Moretti and Kyra could be friends, even while she and Michael became lovers.

* * *

KYRA WALKED along the beach, kicking up the warm surf with her bare feet. She held the cell phone against her ear and waited for Mona to say something, and waited…and waited.

Frustrated, she held the phone out and stared at it. The little red light was flashing, so she must still have a connection. “Mona? Mona, for crying out loud, where’d you go?”

More silence. Then, “Are you insane?”

That was more like it. In the five years they’d been friends, Kyra’d never once known the disc jockey to be speechless. Personality-wise they had nothing in common. Mona was bold and brassy, whereas Kyra was just Kyra. They shouldn’t have been friends. It defied logic. But somehow, they meshed together perfectly, and over the years, Kyra had come to depend on Mona like no one before.

“Maybe I have gone crazy,” she said. “I don’t know. That’s why I called. You need to tell me the right thing to do.”

“The right thing? You call and wake me up—”

“It’s after noon.”

“—and tell me that some incredible fantasy hunk was just dropped in your lap, but you didn’t sleep with him? Kyra, that’s not the right thing. That’s the insane thing.”

“I’m being reasonable and responsible.” Kyra stopped and wiggled her toes, digging tiny holes into the sand. The truth was she’d come to Intimate Fantasy to escape reasonable and responsible. But damned if those shackles weren’t tighter than she’d expected. If she couldn’t convince herself, maybe Mona could.

“You’re being a chicken.”

“I know.” She pressed her lips together. “He makes me feel…wonderful, and it terrifies me. How can I just walk away at the end if I feel like this?”

“I’m not seeing the problem,” Mona said. “Did this Michael guy ask you to marry him?”

“Don’t be silly.”

Mona sighed, and Kyra pictured her rolling her eyes. “You want to be pragmatic? Fine. We’ll do this the Kyra Cartwright analytical way, okay?”

Kyra stifled a grin. “Fine.” She sat down on the beach, the phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder so she could draw random patterns in the wet sand.

“One, you paid a ton of money for this fantasy. To let it pass by would be fiscally irresponsible.”

She couldn’t help it. Kyra laughed. Mona was the last person in the world to talk about financial responsibility. Still, she supposed her friend had a point—a little one, but still a point.

“Second, you went to this island to have a wild adventure. Sex and sun. The perfect island vacation. You wanted to get away from four walls and a paper-cluttered desk and into something to get your adrenaline pumping and your other juices flowing. Right?”

Her cheeks warmed, but she couldn’t deny it. “Right.”

“Three, you’ve never had a down-and-dirty, heart-pounding, loins-throbbing kind of affair.”

“Loins?”

“Just work with me, okay?” Kyra imagined Mona tapping her foot, her eyebrows raised.

“Fine. Whatever. So far in my life, my loins have been calm. No throbbing. Not even a quiver.” At least not until she’d met Michael.

“Well, there you go.”

“There I go what?” Kyra tossed out a handful of sand in frustration.

“Into his arms. Maybe some people could have a fling without feeling any deep-down, loin-quivering attraction, but not you. This Mary person is good.”

“Merrilee,” Kyra corrected absently.

“Whatever. My point is this is perfect. You’re completely attracted to the guy, and yet you have to walk away at the end. These Fantasies, Inc. folks didn’t throw your money down the tubes. Maybe I’ll come there one of these days.”

“But the walking away part? I told you. He makes me feel all—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mona said. “Because you don’t know who he is. Repeat after me—a-non-y-mous. You can walk away from this guy ’cause there is no guy at the other end. No one you know, anyway. Didn’t you say you’re not even sure Michael’s his real name?”

“Well, yeah.” Danielle had told her the staff was clueless, and there was no registered guest named Michael. Even if it was a total lie, it didn’t help Kyra. “I don’t know…”

“Knock it off. I know you better than that. You want this guy. And you knew damn well I’d tell you to go for it.”

She closed her eyes, blocking out the truth. “I feel guilty wanting it.”

“Come on. I mean, I believe that you feel guilty, but that’s just silly. You paid a ton of money for this vacation, and you deserve to get every penny’s worth. Besides, you’re the most responsible person I know. You’ve kept your family together, along with the business. You’re going to agree to marry Harold—”

“Which you don’t approve of.”

“No, I don’t. But it is the Kyra-esque thing to do. I’ve given up trying to talk you out of it. But in the meantime, have a little fun. That’s what you paid for, right?”

“I suppose.”

“And like I’ve been saying all along—anonymous sex with the perfect man? That, my dear, is one hell of a fantasy.”

* * *

TONY LAY on the bed, an ice pack tucked under his lower back as he stared at the ceiling and tried to decide what to do. He wanted to go to her, but feared that she’d turn away from him again.

Of course, turning away from Michael wasn’t the same as turning away from Tony. She wouldn’t be walking away from a useless and broken man, just a man she didn’t know. He’d be disappointed, true, but he wouldn’t be crushed.

Go for it.

A little voice kept repeating the phrase. Take a risk. Take a chance. He knew she was attracted to him, just as he was to her. And he had less than a week left on this island. When in his life would such an opportunity ever arise again? When would he ever have another chance with a woman who made his blood burn—and who wanted him as badly as he wanted her?

A sharp knock at the door distracted him, and for half a second he entertained the fantasy that Kyra was outside waiting on the front porch, ready to throw herself into his arms.

He rolled his eyes at his own foolishness. In less than twenty-four hours, he’d become completely infatuated with the woman. It was absurd. Even if they did start something, in the end, he’d only get hurt. They’d part ways at the end of their week, never to see each other again. Or, worse, she’d discover his secret and simply walk away, the disgust on her face only mildly camouflaged.

Again, the knock. Louder this time.

With a groan, he sat up, one hand automatically reaching behind him to soothe the sore muscles. “Come in.”

The door pushed open, and Stuart stepped in. Relief and disappointment swept through Tony.

“Hey, guy,” Stuart said. “I’m going around telling all the guests that it looks like we’ve got another storm coming through tonight.”

“Right. I know. Sounds like it’s going to spoil the beach party.” For the past several days, Tony had noticed the flyers for the Beach Blanket Bingo Party on the west beach. Tony hadn’t intended to go, but Michael had. If not to the actual party, at least to hang around the periphery and make sure nothing untoward happened to anyone.

Stuart shrugged. “The ETA’s not until two in the morning. Merrilee called from the mainland and said that so long as we had enough Jeeps and drivers to get the guests back to their cabanas if it blew in early, we could go ahead with it.” His eyes darted around the cabana. “Are you gonna make it?”

“Not sure. Maybe.” He thought of Kyra, wondering if she’d be there.

“You should come.”

“I should?”

Stuart flushed slightly, then turned toward the dresser and focused on the black eye patch that sat in front of the mirror. “Yeah, you should.” He turned, heading for the door, then stopped at the threshold, turning around with a smug expression. “And in case you didn’t realize, the party’s just a few yards from Kyra’s cabana. She said she’d definitely be there tonight.”

* * *

MERRILEE AND her staff knew how to put on a bash. From the front of her cabana, Kyra looked around the bonfire-lit beach, hugging herself. It was quite a party.

By the time the evening was over, Kyra hoped it would be a private party. She had no reason to think he’d come to her, not after she’d walked away, but now that she’d talked herself into it, she desperately hoped he would. A bloodred heat swept through her body just from the mere thought of him. She’d probably spontaneously combust when she actually saw him.

Of course, if he didn’t show up, she could always hang upside down from a tree. That would get his attention.

She smiled to herself. Mona would probably suggest she hang upside down in a dress with no underwear. Not a chance. Bold, Kyra could handle. Bold and brazen, no.

Barefoot, she stepped off the porch into the cool sand, feeling decadent and alive. Just like in her professional life, she’d made a decision, she’d pushed every doubt out of her mind. She had a plan to seduce Michael, and she was going after it with both barrels. In fact, now that she’d made the decision, it seemed so much the obvious route that she wondered why she’d ever hesitated.

Because you’re a chicken.

Well, that was true enough, but her afternoon of windsurfing lessons had cemented her decision. The instructor had been so absorbed with safety and theory that they never even got off the beach. If Kyra wanted adventure, she was going to have to take steps. And she intended to step in Michael’s direction.

Considering the storm that was supposed to blow in later, the night air was remarkably still. A short distance from her cabana, a fifties-style band was cranking out “Rock Around The Clock,” and she strolled in that direction, approaching the largest of the three bonfires.

She found C.J. and Stuart near the grill. C.J. was wearing a ridiculous-looking chef’s hat, and Stuart was snarfing down hot dogs as fast as C.J. could roll them off the grill.

“I feel like I should have worn a poodle skirt.” Kyra had to shout to be heard over the band.

“Great, isn’t it?” Stuart asked. “Want to dance?”

Kyra shook her head. “I’m starving. You go ahead. I’m going to hit C.J. up for a hot dog.”

Stuart nodded, then bopped away, throwing his arm around one of the college girls who waitressed at the restaurant. Soon, they’d melded into the crowd jamming in front of the band.

“What’s your pleasure?” C.J. asked.

“Mustard, ketchup, relish, chili and onions—wait, hold the onions,” she quickly corrected.

He shot her a sly look and she felt her cheeks flush. She glanced around the beach, looking to change the subject. “Seems like everyone on the island turned out.”

“Pretty much. I don’t see Tony, though.”

“Tony?” She tried to place the name, then remembered. “The guy from the pool. He seemed nice. Why wouldn’t he come?” She grinned. “Does he have a romantic fantasy going on this evening?”

C.J. added some hot dogs to the fire. “I can only hope. But no. More likely he’s self-conscious.”

She remembered his reaction when they’d met and the way he’d turned away, angling to keep his face in the shade. “His scar?”

“From what I understand it’s fairly new.”

She nodded slowly. “It must be difficult, seeing your face change overnight like that. But scar or no, I think he’s good-looking.” She remembered his broad shoulders and wide smile, wondering at the sanity of any woman who’d turn away simply because his eye was ringed by such a nasty scar. Then again, a lot of women put stock in that sort of thing. “He’s got a rugged, protective look. There must be a lot of women who still go ga-ga over him.” He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and she hoped it was true.

“You included?”

“I’m not the ga-ga type.” Her cheeks warmed with the lie. The truth was she wasn’t usually the ga-ga type. But Michael had changed all that. She smiled at C.J. “I’m the practical type.”

He passed her a hot dog loaded down with all the trimmings except onions. “Well, now, that’s too bad. Especially on an island like this, sometimes it’s downright fun to fall hard and fast.”

Kyra wasn’t about to admit that she may have done that very thing, so she took a huge bite and chewed furiously.

“My dear, will you watch the grill for a second?” C.J.’s voice sounded unusually strained. “I need to…uh…go get some more buns.”

He pulled off his apron and left without waiting for her agreement. Kyra stood there, perplexed, even more so when she looked down and saw a box with enough buns to feed a small country. She glanced in the direction he’d gone, but he’d blended into the dark. Odd.

The wind kicked up, sending a firestorm of sparks shooting up into the air. Past the bonfire, Merrilee and Danielle were making their way toward the grill. Kyra waved to them.

“Did we put you on the payroll?” Merrilee joked. “Why aren’t you out dancing with the other guests?”

“Oh. I…um…” Kyra frowned. “I’m just watching it for a sec. Dog?” She stabbed a hot dog with the serving fork and held it out.

“Thanks,” Danielle said, grabbing a bun. “Who’re you taking over for?”

“C.J.,” Kyra said, hoping she wasn’t getting the pilot in trouble. “He…uh…had to go get something.”

Merrilee sighed. “I keep missing that man.”

“Pardon?”

The older woman smiled. “It’s nothing important. He’s just our newest employee, and every time I make a point to meet him, we manage somehow to completely miss each other.” She laughed, but the sound didn’t quite reach her eyes.

After a moment, she smiled at Kyra. “At any rate, I’m glad you’re here. I was hoping we could chat a bit about how you’re enjoying your stay so far. Danielle said you were looking for me earlier.”

“Yes, I was.”

“Danielle, do you mind?” Merrilee looked pointedly at the grill.

“Not at all.” The girl took the serving fork from Kyra and donned the apron C.J. had left behind.

Kyra and Merrilee headed toward the water, walking just shy of the breaking waves. “So, what did you want to see me about?”

Kyra kicked at the sand with her toes. “Nothing important. Not anymore.”

“The problem resolved itself?”

“You could say that.” She drew in a breath, gathering her courage. “I chickened out. I didn’t seize it…him…my fantasy.” She pressed her lips together, wondering if she’d disappointed the older woman. “But now I’ve bucked up my courage.” She stooped to pick up an intricate shell, then traced her finger along the spiraling pattern. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Nonsense.” Merrilee took her hand, gave it a gentle squeeze. “You needed time. There’s no shame in that.”

“I just hope I see him again. That I didn’t ruin everything by not taking the fantasy when it was offered.” She searched Merrilee’s face, but found no clues. Blinking, she tried to bolster her courage. “At any rate, I’ve had a long time to think about it, and I’m ready now.”

“Bravo, Kyra. It sounds like the island is working its magic on you.”

“Magic?”

“Certainly. I like to think that none of my guests leaves one of the Fantasies resorts without a new perspective on life. And isn’t that a bit like magic?”

Kyra had to agree. If anyone could spin a little magic, Merrilee could.

“Danielle and I just arrived back on the island, and we need to go get ready for tomorrow. You have fun at the party.” She moved away, heading back up the beach toward the lights from the bonfire. After a moment, she stopped and turned again. “Oh, and Kyra? I wouldn’t worry if I were you. I imagine that you’ll see Michael again tonight.”

Waves of relief washed over her, and she stood there like a fool with a big, goofy smile as Merrilee faded into the night. “When I find you, Michael,” she whispered happily, “you’re mine for the week.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

She jumped and yelped, then whirled around to face him. “You scared me to death.” Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, but whether from fear or desire, she wasn’t sure.

“Sorry.” He moved closer, his one vivid green eye fixed on her, a lock of roguish black hair curling across his forehead from under his cap. His chin and jawline were covered with a thick evening beard. Like her father, he seemed the type who needed to shave at least twice a day, and the dark shadow made him seem more rugged, more sexy.

She inhaled, her breath shaky.

He combed his fingers through her loose hair, the pressure of his hand on the back of her head pulling her to him until she was close enough that she could smell his scent. It was familiar, something she’d smelled recently, and she frowned for a moment before placing it. Obsession for Men.

She giggled.

“What?”

“Your cologne.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I love it. It’s just that I picture you lurking in shadows and fog, not buying cologne under harsh department store lights.”

“And I picture you in candlelight.”

“You do?” Her voice sounded squeaky, and she cringed.

He leaned forward, his mouth near her ear. “Naked in the candlelight.” Barely a whisper, his words stirred her. Her knees went weak, her body liquid.

As if he knew her most intimate thoughts, he curved his arm around her waist, supporting her. “Tell me you want me, too, Kyra. Tell me you want me and make my fantasy come true.”

His fantasy?

She tilted her head back, wanting to read the truth in his eyes. Could she of all people really be the object of someone’s fantasy? The thought had never even occurred to her and she found the possibility to be flattering, even exciting.

But she wasn’t at all sure it was true. She wasn’t even entirely certain he was a guest, and not staff, on the island.

Still, when she looked into his eye, when she watched the expression dance on the shadows covering his face, she saw only desire reflected there. Desire so intense, that her breath actually caught in her throat.

“Kyra?”

She nodded, mute, then fought to find her voice.

“Yes,” she finally said. “Yes, I want you, too.”