Chapter One

"No. I won’t do it. That’s my final word." Travis Jacobs jabbed at the off button on his mobile phone and slammed it down on the bar. He scowled-at no one in particular, just the world, and closed his eyes, rubbing the back of his hand hard against them. "Too many hours in front of the computer."

"What ya say, Mr. Jacobs?" The bartender clasped a cocktail shaker as he worked behind the bar in the hotel lobby of Auckland’s newest five star hotel. Positioned on the city’s waterfront, it’s luxurious and exotic interior showcased New Zealand’s Pacific Island culture.

Travis eyed the young man behind the bar. "Nothing, just mumbling as usual."

"S'ppose that’s what you writer guys do a lot."

Travis shrugged his shoulders. "Could be."

"Me, I never read books." The bartender admitted as he poured the contents of his shaker into a salt-rimmed glass.

Travis gritted his teeth. Just what I don’t need to hear right now. He wanted people to read books. His books. He supposed he should be pleased he wrote best sellers, but right at the moment any other career path would be preferable. A deadline loomed and he had hit a major hurdle. Travis Jacobs, writer of good whodunits, so the New York Times said, presently suffered a major case of writers’ block. So bad in fact, that he hadn’t been able to write one word that made any sense in two weeks. It frustrated the hell out of him and right now his life seemed full of too many "if onlys." If only the nanny had been more reliable, if only there were more hours in the day, if only he could concentrate.

"Hell, don’t forget the biggest if only of all," he muttered uncaring who heard. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to blank it out. If only wouldn’t help. Better to concentrate on being a single parent he reasoned, than pondering the ‘if onlys’ of life.

The clink of ice against the glass brought him back to reality as the barman topped up his drink. He stared into the glass for a second before snatching it up and gulping back a mouthful.

What was he going to do?

But right now he had even bigger worries. The second nanny had left.

"Too isolated, no parties, no boys, no shops," she’d said.

It didn’t help that Travis had emphasized the isolation when he’d hired her. But in the long run it had proved too much and the novelty of working for a famous writer had worn off for the young woman. Travis frowned. Remind you of someone else?

He looked down at his mobile phone. His mother had called. She too was on his back.

"Ted," he called to the barman. "Have you ever said no to your mother?"

The barman chuckled. "Me Ma? Heck no, Mr. Jacobs. More likely if I did she’d land me with an earful."

Travis gave the barman a rueful grin. The woman sounded just like his mother who had, in no uncertain terms, told him what she thought of his secluded lifestyle.

"Too much isolation isn’t good," she’d intoned in her best school-ma'am voice. He’d known that to argue with her would be quite useless, and had let her complete her harangue.

"Holing up in the back blocks of the Ureweras. Heavens, it’s the remotest part of New Zealand. It’s not sensible. Is it any wonder no nanny would stay out there?"

"Too bad. That’s just the way I like it."

Sophie liked it too. His daughter, Sophie, was the dearest thing to his heart. He would do anything for her.

Pulling his thoughts back, Travis swiveled on his bar stool and froze.

The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen was walking toward the reception desk. Travis gulped. Don’t go there, he told himself. Once burnt twice shy. But an internal force commanded him and he couldn’t resist. He watched as she walked over the lush carpet, long legs gliding in sensual delight, the sway of her hips, seductive. Reaching the counter she put her bag down; scarlet painted nails flicking a thread of strawberry blonde hair away from her face.

Get away now, Travis. Remember you’ve sworn off women for good.

Although reluctant to pull his gaze away, he did, but not before snatching one last quick glance over his shoulder at her as he headed to the other side of the lobby and the elevator. He needed solitude, not some blonde, he reminded himself. Women were trouble, just like his ex-wife. Trouble he could do without.

***

"Good to have you with us, Ms. Kelly."

Lisa nodded, smiling at the hotel receptionist. Used to people recognizing her, it didn’t bother her any more. "It’s great to be home." It was indeed wonderful to be back in Auckland and she had been surprised at the excitement she’d felt as the plane had flown over the islands in the Hauraki Gulf as it came into land. Boats of all sizes dotted the watery paradise, justifying the city’s nickname of City of Sails. With her family now living several hundred miles away, she had to rely on a hotel for accommodation. Coming from New York, she’d traveled hours with very little sleep, and was now too jet-lagged to worry where she put her head.

Lisa turned toward the elevator. The doors were about to shut.

"Wait." Her plea a worn-out whisper, she strode toward the doors, numb with exhaustion she struggled across the hotel lobby, ignoring the hotel patrons who watched her every step. A tanned hand curled around the rubber-trimmed edge of the door and held it open. Lisa smiled and offered silent thanks as she gave her valise a final tug and pushed her way into the cocoon-like haven of the elevator. The doors closed behind her.

She dropped her bag to the ground and caught sight of the Pierre Cardin loafers first before her gaze traveled upwards, over long, lean, black jean clad legs and slim hips, to the broad shoulders outlined beneath a crisp white shirt. She froze as appraising eyes captured hers.

***

Travis couldn’t resist staring at her. Up close she was gorgeous, ravishing. Superlatives raced through his mind. He couldn’t help but smile at the incongruity of it all. Here he was staring at the beautiful woman he’d spied going across the lobby and the words flowed. Why didn’t they do the same when he stared at the computer? He tried to ignore her, tell himself he wasn’t interested in her, in any woman. Not now, not ever. Yet, he felt like some foolish schoolboy.

***

Lisa’s cheeks flushed pink, embarrassed that she’d been caught staring. But then so was he.

"Where to, little lady?"

The slurred words jolted her back to reality and her attention swiveled to the man at the other side of the cubicle. Lisa screwed up her nose. The aroma of stale smoke mixed with copious amounts of whisky emanating from him was certainly not Old Spice. More like eau de barroom brawl. Shifting from foot to foot, she eyed the drunk. He made her nervous. "Ten," she answered, her voice cold as ice. "Thank you."

"Ten it is then, sweet cheeks." The man slammed a podgy finger into the control panel, nudging several buttons for other floors at the same time.

Lisa sighed, and her eyes gritty with lack of sleep, shuttered. It was all she could do to stand up, and thanks to the drunk who’d pushed more buttons than necessary, it would be a slow trip.

"Don’t I know you?" He hiccupped.

She steeled herself not to retch as his odious breath fanned her face and tilted her head backwards to survey him with a cool assessing stare. "I doubt it."

The creep stepped toward her, then suddenly halted, jostled aside by the other occupant.

"The lady said she doesn’t know you."

"Thanks." She gave him a fleeting smile, thankful for his towering presence. Trying not to be too obvious, she cast a furtive glance at this omnipotent stranger, his size and closeness suddenly overwhelming. With his high cheekbones, angled brows and autocratic look, Bronte’s Heathcliff came to mind and as his dark foreboding gaze leveled with hers, he took her breath away.

Lisa shook her head. Get a grip. Her reaction was ridiculous-wasn’t it?

"Sure I know you. I would never forget a pretty girl like you." The little man’s eyes roamed over her head to foot, and he let out a low whistle of appreciation. "Man, what legs." He wobbled in her direction.

Shivering in disgust, she pressed herself hard against the cool silk of the elevator wall, cringing, her face flushing scarlet. "Er …thanks, for the compliment, but I can assure you, we have never met."

‘Heathcliff’ interrupted. "Didn’t you hear the lady? I suggest you leave her alone."

The two men glared at each other. Male against male. But with the drunk staring up, towered over by the hunk, if it hadn’t been serious, it would be farcical, the two men acting like warring cavemen. The drunk reminded her of the leech played by Danny DeVito in Taxi. But ‘Heathcliff’, now he was something else. Tall and broad shouldered with skin-tight jeans covering his long legs, this hunk was absolute dreamboat material.

She turned from one to the other as though she were watching a tennis match, head pivoting back and forward from male to male, from drunk to hunk. The whole scene looked like something out of an old Marx Brothers movie. "Look, it’s okay. You don’t have to do this."

The hunk eyed her. "You’d prefer to be bothered then?"

Her cheeks burned. "No… no. That’s not what I meant. It’s fine. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it." She turned to the drunk only to be assaulted by another whiff of his ‘perfume. "Did you?"

"Nah, just being friendly."

"See, he didn’t mean any harm." She didn’t quite believe him, but never mind. Right now, she wanted to get some sleep, not worry about some intoxicated guy.

"Suit yourself." ‘Heathcliff turned away.

Endeavoring not to be too blatant, Lisa stole a glance at him, her heart thudding a million times a second in her chest as a whipcord heat surged through her veins. The pit of her stomach tightened and she had an overwhelming desire to reach up and caress his cheek.

She struggled for control.

It must be lack of sleep. No one had ever had this sort of effect on her.

Until now.

Serious eyes caught hers and she shuddered, backing away, seeking some space between them. Her gaze lowered to the floor, the Heathcliff imitation filling her imagination. Lack of sleep had nothing to do with the way her insides rioted right now. That was lust. Pure and simple, straight as a cupid’s arrow, lust. "And that’s an excuse?"

"Pardon, you said something?" He smiled, and her stomach bucked, hitting her full on, insides jolting as if she’d been steam-rolled. She shook her head. His voice sounded as good as he looked. Pure velvet.

Then she noticed the gold flecks in his irises shone, and the way the corners of his mouth crinkled.

Help!

She was a goner.

"I’m sorry for being rude. Do you do this often?" she offered.

"Do what?"

"Rescue damsels in distress."

"Are you? In distress I mean," he teased.

She didn’t answer, but felt the sting of embarrassment as her cheeks heated even more. What on earth was she doing? Flirting! Heaven help her! Swallowing, she tried to ignore the formidable maleness of the man across from her. Somehow, in only a few minutes, he seemed to have seared her soul.

Impossible.

Lisa shut her eyes, hoping to blot out the man at her side. She failed. The whole scenario seemed insane and she felt as if her world had turned upside down in mere seconds. Ridiculous.

The elevator lurched a little and she rocked to and fro while the faint whirring of the mechanics echoed around the four small walls as it rose higher and higher.

"Steady on there." Long fingers snaked around her wrist sending a searing heat coiling up her arm and as if in slow motion her gaze traced a path from his fingers, still wrapped around her wrist, up his arm to rest on his face. She gasped for air, sucking in her breath, aware of the sudden heat radiating between them as she steadied herself with her free hand and the elevator came to a halt with a soft hiss.

Who was she kidding? Holding onto the rail because of a small jolt. What about the tidal wave to her insides, caused, she admitted, by the dark stranger beside her?

The doors slid open and his hand dropped away, leaving Lisa with a sense of distinct loss. Shaking her head, she bent to retrieve her valise. She needed the safety of her own room.

From herself.

"Hey, why rush? Let me help." The drunk wrapped a podgy hand around the bag’s strap and tried to pull it away from her.

She held on fast.

Like a children’s game of tug of war, each pulled the strap this way and that. Frustration bit into Lisa. She wished this man would leave her alone. "No. It’s okay, I can manage."

"I’m sure you can, lil’ lady, but let me be a gentleman. Take you to your door."

Like hell! Lisa’s grip tightened and she gave it a fierce yank. They both had a firm hold; neither wanted to let go. Pulling herself to her full height she glared down at the offensive man. "Thank you for your kind offer, but I can manage. There’s no need." She saw a flicker of hesitation cross his face and smiled. She’d met her fair share of creeps in her time; he topped the list right now.

"Didn’t you hear the lady? I thought I’d made myself quite clear." Cool, icy intent stilled the drunk and he turned to the meet the dangerous glare directed at him.

"The lady said she could manage. Why don’t you go back downstairs and drink a cup of coffee. Make that several. You could use them."

"Get lost, buddy. Let me make the lady feel welcome, you know." His face contorted in a crooked grin as he tried to wink.

Lisa felt sick to her stomach, but no matter where she looked, the exit was blocked.

‘Heathcliff’s’ eyes narrowed to emerald slits as he stepped close to the drunk, his smile replaced by a contemptuous sneer curving the corners of his mouth. He frowned. "I know what you want to be up to, but let me tell you again. The lady isn’t interested."

Fear flickered over the inebriated man’s face, perspiration beading his brow. "But …"

"No buts. Get going. Now!" ‘Heathcliff’ ground out.

The drunk blinked several times and his Adam’s apple bulged. "Yeah, got it." He turned to Lisa, wiping a hand over his sweaty brow, contemplating his chances, as he looked from her to the other man. "Sorry, miss, no offence meant." With concentrated effort, the roly-poly man rambled on unstable legs toward the stairwell at the end of the hallway. The exit door slammed shut behind him, and finally, silence surrounded Lisa and her rescuer.

She turned to him. "Thank you, Mr. … ah."

"Tra…" he stuttered. "Troy Jarvis."

Surprised he didn’t look her straight in the eye, Lisa wondered fleetingly if he was lying. But why would he do that? Was he a criminal, or a celebrity trying to go incognito? She didn’t recognize him, but then she seldom took any notice of the scandal sheets that littered the press.

He smiled at her "No problem." And retrieved the handle of her valise.

"I can manage."

"I’m sure you can, but I thought I’d help anyway. Those wheels on your bag look like they’ve seen the end of their days."

Lisa ground her teeth, giving a scant glance to her well-used luggage. Had she lost one pest to be replaced by another? "I thought you’d told the man not to bother me. Don’t you follow your own advice?"

"Most times, but in this instance, I’m not listening."

Again, she heard the distinct sound of insistence in his voice. It both surprised her and set off alarm bells.

Aware of his gaze, she tried to drag her eyes away, but couldn’t and felt herself sway, light-headed. It must be the jet lag.

Another excuse!

She struggled to curtail her frank interest, and although she carried her height well, Heathcliff towered over her. Somehow he seemed familiar, but try as she might, she couldn’t think where on earth she’d seen him. Besides, she hadn’t been home for years. He was, however, gorgeous with a capital "G." Lisa smiled with the irony. Trust her luck to get hit on by the drunk and not the hunk.

"I thought I’d stay around a few minutes, make sure the drunk didn’t come back."

"I’m a big girl, I can look after myself," she answered, realizing she sounded rather ungrateful.

"I know, but why don’t you let me be a gentleman?"

"Oh, I get it, you want to do your Boy Scout thing, is that it?"

"Could be, but my room is in this direction too. So hey, humor me?"

"Put that way, how can I refuse?"

"True," he replied and bent down and picked up her bag. "Look I wasn’t trying to be offensive," he offered as an explanation. "I thought you might want some help. I can make sure no one else bothers you."

She eyed him with caution.

A single dark brow cocked upwards.

Lisa hesitated further.

"Besides, do I look like Jack the Ripper?"

She couldn’t help but smile. "No one knows what Jack the Ripper looked like."

His deep laugh echoed down the hall. "True."

Lisa watched as his demeanor softened, the golden glints in his eyes sparkling and she couldn’t help but smile back. "You’re certainly persistent."

"Come on, let’s find your room. I’ll leave you at the door."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes, ma’am." He offered a mock salute and led her down the hallway. Like a sheep, Lisa followed entranced by the dappled light filtering the hallway’s entire length, illuminating its silk wallpapered walls. The lingering aroma of roses from the extravagant vases of sweet-smelling blooms on the gilt-edged table sited halfway down wafted through the passage.

"Paradise," she whispered. It would be heaven to lie down and sleep and although fueled her senses being surrounded by such beauty, right now she could sleep anywhere.

"You said something?"

Lisa faltered and gave him a tentative smile. "No. I’m just exhausted."

"You’ve come a long way?"

"From New York."

But her gallant protector’s face shuttered and surprised, Lisa wondered what she’d said wrong? They stopped outside her room and she took the swipe card from her pocket.

"Allow me." A long hand reached out from behind her and took the key tag from her hand.

She spun round and came face to face with him. "You said just to the door." Her voice quivered and her nerves got the better of her. "I thought the pest had gone? Or were there two of you?"

"Pest?"

Her pulses raced and she felt a thrill of excitement splinter each and every nerve as he placed a hand over his heart as if pained by her cutting words. "I promised didn’t I? Don’t worry, I always keep my promises."

Lisa exhaled. The man’s actions made her want to reach out and stroke him; to run her fingers through his silken strands and brush away the recalcitrant curl that dipped across his brow.

Heaven’s was she nuts? She’d gone stark staring mad. Her stomach lurched and she pushed a hand down hard on her abdomen. Her nerves were shot. "Look, thanks for getting rid of the drunk, but don’t expect any more."

"I don’t. I’m trying to help a lady in distress."

"A regular knight in shining armor, Sir Lancelot."

"That’s me," he grinned. "Sir Lancelot does have a ring about it, don’t you think?"

Think! That was the problem, she couldn’t think. She’d gone past thinking. This potential knight in shining armor kept getting in her way.

But she needn’t have worried. The moment he’d reached forward and sliced the card through the door lock, he then passed it to her and with his other hand snapped the door handle down and pushed it open. "Your boudoir awaits, fair maiden."

Lisa giggled. If it weren’t so funny, it would be silly. Sidestepping him she entered her room, pulling her bag behind her. She turned to face him. "Thank you for your help… ah," her mind searched. What did he say his name was? For some reason only Heathcliff came to mind. "Ah … Troy."

The man blinked and a momentary look of surprise flickered across his face, but with thespian dramatics he bowed low and smiled. "Just call me Lancelot," he answered with a chuckle then spinning round he walked away whistling a merry tune.

Lisa closed the door behind her and for a few minutes leant against it, transfixed. Her heart raced and every single nerve in her body tingled with excitement, alive despite her near exhaustion.

Green eyes with golden flecks and dark wavy hair thick enough for a woman to weave her fingers through, plus a smile to die for danced before her eyes like a mirage. "Some mirage," she sighed. "Dangerous. With a capital ‘D.’"

With the practice that came from years of going from one hotel room to another wherever her work took her, she unpacked her bag. She’d learned years ago that hotel rooms were all alike. All the switches, locks and amenities lined up in the same place.

Kicking her shoes off, she flexed her toes in the wool carpet, wallowing in its lush softness. But catching sight of the time, her shoulders sagged. Only four in the afternoon. She knew if she slept now, she wouldn’t sleep during the night, but the invitation of the luxurious bed was too inviting to ignore.

Deciding to shower first, she grabbed a fresh set of French silk panties and a camisole and padded her way into the bathroom. Within minutes the hot water sprayed from the showerhead pulsating against her body.

Pure bliss.

Closing her eyes, letting the warm water soothe, she arched her head backwards as the water cascaded over her shoulders and down her breasts and stomach. Her hand smoothed the soap over her silken skin, nipples hardening under the gentle touch.

She let out a sigh and wished she could stay under the water for hours, but knew that to look her best for tomorrow, sleep was imperative.

Lisa snapped off the taps and patted herself dry on the fluffy white towel, wrapping the spare around her head turban-style. She donned the silk underwear, reveling in the feel of it as it glided against her skin. Affording the indulgence of silk was one of the luxuries of her work, something sought with regularity. The joys of a successful career as a model, she mused. But a small frown crossed her forehead. The joy had seemingly disappeared these days? Long gone.

Eyeing the bed, Lisa couldn’t resist and lay down, snuggling under the covers. For a few minutes she flipped the pages of the hotel literature, but within seconds her eyelids began to droop and unable to force herself to stay awake any longer, she fell into a deep and restful sleep.

***

"Go away."

Buried beneath the bed covers, Lisa’s voice came out as a muffled cry. She rolled over, hugging her knees up to her chest. Why couldn’t they leave her alone? Under the cocoon of soft bedding, she snuggled deeper, but the noise continued, becoming louder. Annoyed at being woken, she blinked several times and tried to wake up. Except for the fluorescent green light from the radio alarm clock on the nightstand, darkness engulfed the room and for several seconds she tried to focus on the clock’s bright numbers.

"Nine thirty-still early," she groaned, letting her head fall back to the pillow and pulled the covers over her head. She’d only meant to sleep for a while. Another thunderous noise hammered against her bedroom door and her head snapped up as she eyed the door with suspicion, surprised no one else on the floor had complained about the racket. She wondered who on earth would make such a noise. It went on and on, the door handle rattled, shaking in its hinges, unsettling her even more. Struggling to wake, Lisa pushed herself upright, tossed the covers away and swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Wobbling on legs that felt like lead weights, she steadied herself with a hand resting on the bedside table.

"Come on, get out," came the muffled shout from outside.

She gritted her teeth. "Get out, huh," and strode over to the door and opened it. It was him. The hunk. "You!"

"Come on. Get out now! There’s no time to lose." A mahogany brown hand snaked through the few inches of open door and gripped around her wrist, his brutal tug nearly pulling her off her feet.

A bolt of electric arousal shot up her arm, though it didn’t drown out her apprehension and she shrank back. Her skin burned where his fingers touched. "This is ridiculous."

Pushing her free hand up against the wall, Lisa braced herself against his fierce pull. "What on earth do you want? Go away or I’ll call security. You’re becoming as much of a nuisance as that drunk." She tried to shut the door in his face, but it was no use. She glanced down. He’d wedged his foot between the door and the wall. Fear prickled down her spine, and she began to shake as her control slipped.

"I think security have their hands full at the moment. Can’t you hear the alarm?"

A flash of white caught her eye as two hotel workers raced past, each clutching black torches.

Torches? In a hotel? What was happening?

"All okay, sir?" one of them asked.

"Yes, fine, you go on. We’re on our way."

Lisa’s eyes rounded in confusion as she struggled to waken. "We’re not on our way anywhere, mister." She edged forward a few inches and found herself focusing on him.

Half dressed, his chest tanned and muscled like something from a Tarzan movie; the brass button at the waistband of his jeans was undone and without thinking, her gaze dropped to the silky fabric poking out.

Big mistake.

Her imagination went wild as her eyes skimmed over the dark shadow of hair jutting above the waistband of his silky boxers. Shocked at her own actions, she snapped her free hand over her mouth and tried to stifle a giggle. Cupid’s angels dotted the silky fabric, arrows drawn ready to splice the red hearts in two.

The stranger followed the direction of her gaze; his lips pursed, not amused. "Now is not the time to ogle at what I’ve got. Take a look at this instead," and he yanked her out to the hallway.

A host of unaccustomed feelings shot through Lisa. She tried to ignore the unwanted spiral of arousal but failed, then she stiffened. Above the elevator doors a red light flashed. Her jaw dropped and she stared opened mouthed at the flickering light. Fire. The fire alarm.

"Ah, good, so now it’s sunk in. Come on, unless you want to fry, we’ve got to get out of here. Now move it."

For a split second Lisa hesitated and turned toward her bags and clothes and then back to the alarm. "Hang on. My handbag," she shouted.

"God in heaven, spare me." Unable to conceal his frustration, he raked a hand through dark hair. "Typical. A woman’s life is in jeopardy and she stops for her handbag. Got your lip gloss, have you?"

Lisa shot him a scathing glare as she fumbled for her handbag in the dim light at the end of the bed and with a scant backwards glance at the rest of her belongings bolted after her rescuer slamming the door behind her.

They ran up the corridor, the roaring alarm now deafening, confusion and fear grabbing hold of her. How had she failed to hear the alarm? Didn’t they ring in every room? Hers hadn’t. Lisa paused as they neared the elevators, but he read her mind.

"Don’t be stupid. If we take the elevator and the electrics go out, we’d be caught in them. Fried to a ‘T’. We have to take the service stairs."

His hand tugged hers and without protest she followed behind. Within seconds they’d reached the stairwell and began their descent. Empty except for the two of them, Lisa presumed the other guests had already left. With the echoing of the fire alarm her fear increased, sweat trickled down her spine, beading along her forehead and tangled with her fringe. She shoved it away, catching a quick glance at her rescuer. This man seemed so at ease, as if fires were an everyday occurrence.

Although he walked one step in front of her, he held her hand. Lisa recognized the comforting touch of another human in an emergency and had no desire to take it out of his grasp, instead she tried to focus on stifling her rising panic. "Are you a fireman or something?" she questioned, wondering about his cool and calm attitude.

"Just say I’m an or-something."

But she had no time to wonder about his cryptic answer as they ran down the flights of stairs, jumping two steps at a time, slipping, falling. Her knees wobbled like jelly, her breathing painfully harsh. Silently she chastised herself for not doing more exercise. "And I thought I was fit," she groaned. "One day I promise I’ll take up that gym membership." Her heart rammed in her chest. She couldn’t breathe, the stairwell seemed airless. Gasping, she tried to suck in more air.

"You okay?"

"Sure," she answered with more confidence than she felt, thankful for his concern. In reality, she was terrified, but wouldn’t admit it. Pulling her up, he tucked his arm around her waist, sending a shiver down her spine. She recoiled, catching his watchful stare, the faint amusement etched in his face. His mouth twisted in a wry grin.

"Don’t worry, I don’t think the moment is right for seduction, do you?"

Lisa stiffened. "I don’t know what you mean."

"Don’t you?" he laughed.

"You said something about now is not the right time. Unless you want us to end up baked, I suggest we keep going. Or maybe you like it hot, just like those fiery cupid hearts you’re wearing?" Lisa snapped her lips firmly closed. What had got into her? Why on earth had she said something so provocative?

"That’s something you’ll have to find out later, hmm."

"When hell freezes over, buster."

"Just my luck," he chuckled, all the while steadying her. "Talk about bad timing." Turning to face the darkening abyss of the stairwell, he motioned her to follow him and without argument, she obeyed, thankful the embarrassing moment had passed and within minutes they reached the bottom. With nerves stretched to the limit, Lisa stepped onto the cold concrete the moment the entire lighting in the stairwell died. Pitch-blackness engulfed them and Lisa slammed into her rescuer’s back, nearly knocking them both off balance.

He spun round and grasped at her shoulders before she stumbled again. "Steady on." His hand caressed the curve of her waist. "Umm. Nice. Do you do that often?"

"Pardon?"

"Rub yourself against strangers."

Lisa’s mouth dropped open. "Of all the nerve. Rub up ...Why you Neanderthal." She yanked herself out of his embrace. "Talk about conceited. I was not, I repeat not rubbing myself up against you. The lights went out and I stumbled."

"Oh..."

He didn’t believe her and despite the total darkness, she could imagine the smirk on his face.

"Then what do you call it?"

"Shut up. Let’s just get out of here."

"Aye, aye, boss. Shame, maybe another time."

"In your dreams."

"So you keep saying," he chuckled.

But the moment evaporated as he wrenched open the heavy fire door and stepped out. She followed him into the cold night air away from the building, toward the crowds milling around the hotel courtyard.

"Sit there, don’t move."

Grateful to have someone else take charge, she offered no protest and sat on the edge of a small wooden planter and watched him walk away. She wondered if he would leave her alone, shocked when her heart skipped a beat as she realized she didn’t want him to leave. With him Lisa felt a sense of protection that surprised her since they were strangers. But she needn’t have worried; a few minutes later he walked back toward her, a crease furrowed between jet-black brows.

The closer he got, Lisa struggled to ignore the rapid increase of her pulse. She eyed him head to foot. Naked to the waist, his well-muscled torso was strong and lean. Wiry hair spiraled down his chest, tapering to the waistline of his jeans. Noticing the zipper was done up now, even the bronze button, she grinned remembering the cupid’s’ arrows on his boxers.

Mistake.

He caught her inquisitive gaze and she quickly lowered her lashes, but not before the rush of heat stained her cheeks. She felt like a naughty schoolgirl peeking at something she shouldn’t.

Damn! Now he thinks I was ogling him.

Well weren’t you?

No.

Lisa snapped her lips together and her skin prickled as he lowered himself to sit beside her, long legs nudging hers as he stretched out. A wave of unease swept through her, conscious of the heat generated between them. She stole a glance sideways at him; thankful he had no idea the way her mind raced.

"The so-called fire isn’t one, just a false alarm," he informed her. "Something overheated in the kitchen, or maybe in a bedroom." He let out a deep throaty chuckle and pictures of the two of them scantily clad heating up a bedroom came to Lisa’s mind with vivid clarity.

Oh, heaven help me, she groaned.

"You okay?"

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the erotic pictures. "You’re concerned?"

"I am."

She colored again. Damn. Here was a hunk. The first man in ages who’d set her pulses racing and she had to snap at him like a shrew. Go figure! Her gaze shifted, shadowing the nervous tension she felt. "I’m sorry. Thank you for your help in getting me out. I hadn’t heard the alarm, I was so tired with jet lag."

"You would have, in time."

"Well, maybe. Thankfully it’s a false alarm. But what if it had been the real thing, and I hadn’t heard you?" Lisa shivered as she considered the consequences.

"Cold?" he questioned, but before she had the time to answer, he closed the gap between them and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Her automatic reaction was to pull out of his embrace, but he held firm and his warmth heated her chilled skin and in seconds she began to relax, leaning into his embrace, enjoying the comfort it gave. Around them, firemen went about their business and the other hotel patrons mingled with concerned staff distributing warming brandy.

Lisa took the brandy offered and sipped, screwing her nose up at its bitter taste.

"Not your normal tipple?"

"No. I’m not a drinker. Champagne sometimes."

"Ah, champagne..." he said, as if it explained everything. The light dimmed in his eyes, shuttering any expression in them and his face turned somber. "I suppose it would be."

"Why would you assume that?"

"You look the champagne type somehow."

"Type. I didn’t know there were drinking types."

"You’d be surprised. My ex…" He hesitated. "Someone I knew, or at least I thought I knew, wouldn’t drink anything else but champagne."

"That could get rather expensive."

"Oh, money never worried her. She thought she was onto a good thing."

"She?" Lisa queried, intrigued.

Before he could answer, a call went up and racing toward her was one of the more bothersome paparazzi, his camera cocked at the ready. Being photographed went with the territory of modeling and didn’t bother her, but the intrusion of these scavengers annoyed her intensely. Sighing, she turned away hoping to ignore him, but when she heard her rescuer swear under his breath and his body wrenched away from hers, hiding his face in the shadows from the oncoming photographer, Lisa frowned.

A flash bulb flared. "Thanks, Lisa." Not bothering to stop, the photographer scurried off, happy with his possible scoop.

"Someone you know?"

Lisa faced her rescuer. A scowl darkened his face. What had gotten into him all of a sudden? She shrugged. Not her problem. "No. Just someone I see around when I come home."

However, his disposition didn’t improve. Talk about a night-and-day personality, she thought. One minute he chatted, quite relaxed, an arm draped around her shoulder in companionship, the next he glowered at her as if she was the Jezebel from hell.

Just then the shout went up that they could return to their rooms and eager patrons and staff herded toward the lobby. Lisa held back for the rush to subside.

"I suppose we should go in?"

Was that reluctance she heard in his voice?

"I suppose so," she agreed. Apart from having to sit in the cold, it had, she admitted, been rather enjoyable. Beneath the surface, if the time had been different, perhaps she would have been able to get to know him, a man who appeared to be as dynamic as he was mysterious.

"Come on." Lancelot pulled her up, fingers wrapped around hers. Although no need for him to hold her hand, it felt good. More than good. She liked it - a lot - and left her hand in his, aware the second his thumb began to caress the sensitized skin of her palm.

In silence they queued a few minutes for the elevator before making it back up to their floor, her hand still wrapped in his. At her door Lisa reached for the key-tag in her bag and slipped it into the keypad. She turned to him, overcome by a sudden shyness, all at once not quite sure what to say, struggling to find the right words, her tongue gliding nervously over her bottom lip.

"Thank you again."

He bowed low. "At your service, ma’am."

Lisa chuckled. He could have been Sir Lancelot. "Very knight in shining armor-ish. All you need is a some armour and a steed.".

They both laughed at the thought.

"Oh well, we knights always do our best."

"I’m sure you do. Rescuing a damsel twice in one day must be a record." She lowered her gaze enveloped by the old shyness as it had when she was a tongue-tied gawky teenager with braids and braces.

Retreat! A silent shout echoed in her head. This man is too…?

Sexy. Sexy as hell.

Lisa choked on her thoughts and made her escape, reaching for the doorknob, but a very male hand wrapped over hers. She sucked in her breath. For all her worldliness after ten years of modeling, seven of it on the international circuit, she didn’t know what to do next. The way her emotions rioted the moment she saw this man alarmed her. He was definitely more than she could handle and as telltale butterflies took flight once more in her stomach, she realized her control, had bit the dust.

"Goodnight." His soft voice shook her back to reality and she looked up into his chiseled face. She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could utter a word, he lowered his lips and kissed her. Gentle, but a kiss that promised much more, the warmth of skin touching skin, the sweet taste of … what?

Was she nuts? It was just a kiss for heaven’s sake. But she knew instinctively she wanted more. Her heart thudded and her breath caught in her chest.

She was kissing a stranger.

She didn’t care.

Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and cradled him so he could kiss her again. And again! Please!

He didn’t disappoint, as with unhurried movements he trailed a tapered finger down the side of her cheek, halting as it reached the edge of her lips. Her lips parted, breathing rasped as erotic thoughts crashed the barriers of her mind and the temptation to lick the finger that grazed across her lips took hold. Finally, she found her voice though a mere whisper. "Goodnight. Thank you, for everything."

As if she’d thrown a bucket of ice water over him, her rescuer stilled and a flicker of confusion crossed his face before he blanked it out, closing his eyes. His arms dropped and his shoulders sagged. He stared at her for a few seconds, then finally he replied. "Goodnight," His voice crisp with derision seemingly deriding the emotion she’d experienced in his arms only seconds ago, and without a backward glance he walked away.

Watching him depart, Lisa frowned. His shoulders drooped, he looked as if he had the entire world on his back. Who was this knight in shining armor?