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  Ginger bent her head low so she could see out the little window. “I’m not exactly looking forward to getting in another airplane. I’d rather be back on the ship.”

  When Carrie accepted Ginger’s offer of a cruise, her brain must have been on melt down. Lounging on deck this last week had become tedious. And now she balanced between life and what could be a harrowing life-threatening experience.

  The captain’s voice came over the intercom announcing they were finally ready to land.

  Ginger grabbed her purse from the floor. “‘Bout damn time.”

  Elbow to elbow, people filled the airport. The flight attendant helped Ginger secure her luggage and get it on the outgoing flight. Carrie grabbed her friend and squeezed hard, which wasn’t necessary since the throng of people bumped and pushed them together.

  “I feel like a sardine.” Ginger flung her hair back and secured her bag on her shoulder. “Gotta run to catch my flight.”

  “Bye, Ginger. And thank you!” Carrie called to the disappearing form. She heard, “Had a blast,” as Ginger disappeared from sight.

  Carrie finally made her way to the baggage claim area. While she waited, she silently thanked the blessed saints for the good sense to purchase a house and not a high-rise apartment in New York City. Hopefully she would arrive home in a reasonable amount of time without sitting in traffic on a congested freeway. Ginger had chosen the Newark Airport because it was further from the city than LaGuardia and JFK, and generally less crowded. Today, the place resembled a madhouse. Carrie had trudged through an obstacle course just to retrieve her luggage. People scurried in every direction. Lifting her bag, she headed for the exit doors.

  Great. Now, it’s raining buckets.

  Damn, that guy just elbowed her, the jerk. All the taxies seemed to be taken. Except one. Carrie took off running. Just as she reached the cab, another hand—a masculine hand—covered hers.

  A deep voice surged over her shoulder. “Excuse me.”

  The man jerked open the door, pushed her inside and jumped in behind her.

  Of all the . . .

  “Sorry. But we could have drowned while I played the gentleman.”

  Chapter 3

  Carrie seethed with anger. The unmitigated gall of the arrogant brute. How dare he shove her and steal her cab? What kind of man pushed a woman into a taxi uncaring it was hers to begin with? She gritted her teeth and wished him to Hades. No one pushed her around and certainly no man—which he was about to find out. Struggling to sit up with some decorum, she straightened her clothes, drew in a deep breath, and gave him a glare meant to unman him.

  Her breath caught in her throat as his hand smoothed the dripping wet locks from his brow, revealing a pair of piercing eyes. Sparkling blue like the deepest waters surrounding the islands she’d just left. His soft, apologetic expression could not hide the hint of mischief in their—oh so gorgeous—dark hue. An amused gleam sent a rush of emotion shooting through her. Her heart increased its tempo as his gaze poured over her with painstaking thoroughness.

  A niggling sensation in her brain warned her—reminded her—she should be angry with him.

  Boldly, her stare wandered down to a nose that curved a bit making his handsome features less perfect. Assertively, she stared at the slight curving of his mouth. Sensuous lips formed a fictitious pout and bowed in provocation. Luring her—beckoning—inviting a lover’s heated kiss. Carrie shook off the urge to do just that. When a droplet of water appeared at the corner of his mouth, she had the sensation of swaying forward.

  What in heaven’s name had come over her?

  Coal black hair lay plastered against his head with springing curls that refused to be conquered by the pouring rain. Beads of water on the edge of dark lashes glimmered, enhancing his features. Clothes clung to him like a second skin, showing the width of his broad shoulders. Bulging biceps creating the impulse to touch . . .

  A slight sigh escaped her lungs as she became aware of the alarming effect he had on her senses. She could barely think as she sat there under his scrutiny. Her lids narrowed, noting the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and she realized he was holding back his amusement.

  “Will you forgive me? Had I waited, someone else may have taken our ride.”

  His deep rumbling voice sent tingles straight to the heated center of her being. Instincts that were normally on alert deserted her body. She’d already been intrigued by his dark features, midnight hair and sinful blue eyes. Add a voice that came straight from the bedroom, and the challenge that flashed in his eyes . . . her competitive hormones sparked.

  “May I . . .? He produced a handkerchief and held it out to her. “At least it’s dry.”

  If not for the notable expression that mocked repentance, she could almost accept his sincerity. When she didn’t take it immediately, he dabbed at the water on her nose.

  The contact allowed her to gather what wits she had foolishly lost. She straightened. He had some nerve. Though he did look ridiculous with his bogus regretful expression. And her nose twitched from his masculine cologne tantalizing her senses. Eyeing him with unruffled coolness, she tried to ignore the teasing she read in his gaze.

  The blaze in his eyes transformed to something else, something she couldn’t read. It was gone in a moment and the sparkle of impishness returned. A new rush of emotion shot through her. It was too much. The twinkle in his eye sucked the annoyance right out of her. Bubbles developed in her chest and came out of her mouth in the form of a giggle.

  “Thank God,” he said. “I was afraid you were going to strike me.

  She accepted the white hankie and watched as he lifted a masculine hand and swiped the raindrops from his face. Strong, dark hands. Even with the appearance of a drowned rat, he—quite simply put—was gorgeous. But what hid beneath?

  Carrie always made an effort to look her professional best. She patted her hair and realized it was too late to do anything about the stringy mess, so she used his handkerchief to wipe the drops that threatened to drip from her chin onto her already saturated shirt. Seeing her cold, puckered nipples, she jerked the short-wasted jacket together. Her head snapped up to find him staring at her chest.

  Her hands fisted. “Am I that amusing?”

  His blinding smile showed perfect white teeth. “Ho! She speaks.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “No, no. I must beg your pardon. I apologize for being so hasty before, but circumstances, I’m afraid, made it necessary. My intention was to save you from becoming totally drenched.”

  He spoke with confidence, not arrogance. She’d been around enough egos to know the difference. His boldness caught her notice. And he oozed sex appeal.

  “I hope you don’t mind sharing a cab.” He gave another intoxicating smile.

  The instant attraction surprised her. Even when she’d lost her virginity all those years ago, her emotions had not been involved. Now, in the confining space of this cab, she’d lost control of her senses the moment she’d gazed into glittering sapphire eyes. The guy had killer looks with a smile that reached inside and tickled her intimate funny bone.

  Good grief. A week with Ginger had influenced her brain cells.

  “What a pleasant comfort to see a beautiful smiling face after a flight with demons. Child demons. I may not recover my hearing.” His pleasant voice rumbled from his chest.

  “You don’t like children?” Carrie asked.

  The horror-struck look on his face was priceless. “Good Lord, no. I mean, I like children. My sisters together have a dozen. But as many on a crowded airplane, with negligent parents who obviously don’t believe in discipline, and me sitting in coach . . . brutal!” He gave an exaggerated shudder.

  She smiled at his dramatic display of horror.

  “Where are my manners? Matthew Corridon, at your service.” He held out a hand. Long tan fingers waited to grip hers.

  Often the thrill of grabbing a man’s hand stemmed from her wanting to prove her strength. A strong handsh
ake meant a strong individual. But then, being soft did not necessarily mean being weak. She placed her hand in his. Warmth enveloped her. Her gaze shifted to his and froze. His unbelievably great mouth formed into a sinful bone-melting smile. My God. He’d already been incredibly good-looking. With that smile he was absolutely devastating.

  “Carrie,” she said, ignoring his raised brow, not yet ready to reveal her last name.

  “Carrie,” he repeated softly as he caressed her fingers. “What a lovely name.” He lifted her hand and ever so slowly, drawing out the moment and the tension—inch by enticing inch—closer and closer, until he pressed his lips on her skin. Heat seared her. She wasn’t sure which was hotter, the fire of his kiss or being singed by his searing gaze.

  Her flush of warmth was unexpected. She’d not been a young schoolgirl for some time, so there was no need to act like one. Most men wanted a woman to melt at their smile. But his compelling grin suggested a rascal.

  She was used to wolves in sheep’s clothing. And she was no lamb. “Here we are dripping all over the back seat of this poor man’s cab and . . .”

  “And,” Matthew prompted.

  “You’re kissing me.”

  Matthew just got a jolt to his solar plexus. His eyes darted to her mouth. His breathing slowed at the thought of his tongue sliding across and through those daring, full lips. Why was he even considering the idea?

  He’d seen her in the airport. A striking female who had his pulses leaping with excited interest. He was a leg man, and she had killer legs. He thought a light flirtation might be just the thing he needed to recover from a frenzied airport. He’d grabbed a last minute flight, got stuck in coach, and had to survive the aircraft from hell. Screaming, undisciplined children only made matters worse with the headache from an already bad day. When he’d seen her dash for the taxi, he immediately decided to take full advantage of the opportunity.

  One of the sexiest women he’d ever seen sat mere inches away. True, her long blond hair might be plastered against her lovely head and shoulders, but heat came off her like an inferno. Her shoulders squared like a warrior preparing for battle. Blue-eyed, bottle-blondes were too available, too anxious to be the next one in his bed. This poised creature was about as far from a Barbie doll as one could be. She didn’t need to flaunt her beauty like other self-centered females. In only a few moments, she’d shown self-assurance and a strength many men lacked.

  She had blue eyes the color of the bluest sky on any summer day. They sparked fire, yet generated warmth. Her intense scrutiny gave a good kick to his already skipping pulse. The magnetism pulled him in like a fish on a reel that wanted to be caught. At the same time, her look cautioned—don’t be too sure of yourself, for I may throw you back.

  It had been a long while since he’d seriously craved a woman. Matthew boldly studied her profile. His creative mind already imagined the possibilities. A kiss on her round little nose. A lingering caress over her smooth cheeks. A nibble on her stubborn chin. His gaze traveled lower to find the clinging wet material molded to her body exposed every curve and valley of sinful bliss.

  Jesus!

  Air hissed between his teeth as he recalled her beaded nipples poking the front of her soaked blouse. His blood thickened and so did another part of him. He shifted hoping to give the impression he was uncomfortable from sodden clothes.

  A soft rush of air brushed his damp face causing his gaze to focus on hers. He’d been caught staring—again. Long brown lashes fanned out around her spearing gaze. Her eyes brightened. Sensuous lips promising delight curled into an evocative smile, parted as if awaiting his kiss, and then she laughed. The throaty sound sent electric shocks of awareness drumming through his system.

  His body responded to her in a way it had not stirred in a long time, and he relished the moment. His thoughts clouded as his pulse surged. He needed to explore why this creature enflamed his senses and fueled his desire. Thank God, she had a sense of humor.

  “I believe in being a gentleman, no matter what you may have deemed from my actions earlier.” Matthew reluctantly released her hand. “Please forgive me.”

  He remembered his sister’s puppy, and how sad little eyes had secured her devotion. Matthew tried for the most pitiful look he could manage, hoping to warrant Carrie’s empathy. “Am I forgiven?” A delicious smile formed on her mouth wrenching his groin. Her intoxicating scent made him long to lean closer. The idea of tasting those sumptuous lips led to other delightful fantasies.

  “What kind of female would I be if I left a poor unfortunate man out in the cold, pouring rain without a care to his distress?”

  If she only knew.

  “Surely you’re not suggesting the kind of female as those during the bra burning era? The ones who refuse to allow a man a simple act such as opening the door for them. That type of female would lock the door at the butcher shop and dangle the steak in front of a starving man looking in the window.” He leaned toward her. “But certainly not you. You, dear lady, have been most kind.”

  “Kind that I didn’t throw you out after you manhandled me into this vehicle?”

  Mathew gave his most disarming grin. “You must take into account I’m not responsible for my actions. I’d just survived irrational people and belligerent children. I landed in bedlam instead of an airport. Disorderly people turned into an angry mob. Then I was distracted by a most beautiful woman. How can I be blamed for my quick thinking?”

  The twinkle in her eyes warmed his sense of humor. His gaze dropped to her mouth. The instinct to kiss her rose-colored lips made him wonder what she would taste like. Cherries? Sweet caramel? He concentrated on their fullness instead of the words coming from her mouth. Her voice exposed confidence and control. Forcing his gaze from temptation, he met her stare. Her eyes sent the message—I will chew you up and spit you out if I want to.

  A challenge?

  How often was it he actually met someone sexy who didn’t immediately try to seduce him? How long since he’d met a woman smart and entertaining. Not only had she captured his attention, she’d seized his curiosity. And nothing got his adrenaline flowing faster than a hardy challenge.

  Chapter 4

  “Thank God you’re back.”

  “Did you miss me?” Carrie teased.

  Carrie’s assistant followed as she entered her office. The first thing she saw was a vase overflowing with roses. Groaning inwardly, she didn’t want to guess who they were from. When she’d ended her past relationship, she’d meant it to be for good. “First the cruise ship. Now these.”

  Brenda echoed, “You got flowers on the cruise ship?”

  Carrie waved a hand. “They didn’t work and neither will these.”

  “If you don’t want them, I’ll take them,” Brenda said, like she always did.

  Carrie made a mental note to send Brenda some flowers of her own. “Tell you what. If you find a vase somewhere, I’ll share them.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve collected plenty of those.” Brenda headed for the door, then whirled around. “If you don’t want the guy, why do you keep his flowers?”

  Carrie gave a shrug. “I like flowers. They’re beautiful.” Carrie lifted a rose and inhaled.

  “He always sends roses. First time he’s sent two dozen though . . . and they’re not red.”

  “He’s waiting for me to, and I quote, come to my senses.” Edward could wait till hell froze over. After six months, he thought he could win her back with flowers? He knew she didn’t love him. He didn’t love her either. Nonetheless, she would not be a showpiece on his arm.

  “Be right back.” Brenda hurried out the door.

  A spring garden aroma filled the room making Carrie realize she should spend more time outdoors. Not in the city, of course. Who could enjoy spring and sunshine around busy streets and smog? She lifted the envelope with her name from its holder and tossed it, unopened, into the waste can just as Brenda came back in.

  “You should at least open the card.”

/>   “Why? We both know who they’re from.” Carrie leaned toward the roses to better enjoy their sweet fragrance. Just because Edward was an egotistical dick, didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the flowers.

  Brenda went to the wastebasket, recovered the little envelope, and held it out to Carrie. “Maybe there’s a hundred dollars in there or free tickets to a concert.”

  Carrie gave her assistant an irritated look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Open the envelope.”

  Plucking the envelope from her grasp, Carrie tore it open and read the card. Her gaze flew to the flowers, then to Brenda. “When did these arrive?”

  “Just before you did.” Puzzled, her assistant took a step closer. “Why? What is it?”

  “Sorry, Brenda.” Carrie touched the downy petal of a yellow rose. “You don’t get any of these.”

  Shooting her a startled glance, Brenda said, “You mean they’re not from . . .?”

  “Nope.”

  Several expressions crossed her assistant’s face at once—interest, bewilderment, and yep, irritation. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re holding out on me.” Brenda crossed her arms and glared, still gripping the empty vase in one hand. “Tell me.”

  “They’re from a man I met at the airport.” Carrie caressed the card she still held between her fingers. She couldn’t understand her instant attraction.

  At first she’d been up in arms. Drenched in the pouring rain could do that to a person. Add his cavalier action and she was spoiling for a fight. His drop-dead gorgeous looks hadn’t hurt, but the playful mischief in his eyes had portrayed him a scamp. His eyes were free of hostility or bitterness. No arrogance or expectations suitable of some egotistic conqueror. Nothing condescending. He had seemed more interested in bantering and being a prominent flirt.