Maverick Millionaires. Joss Wood

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       Five

      “Sorry, I’m late.” Rory picked up her e-reader from her coffee table and shoved it into her tote bag.

      “We’ve got time.” Mac, standing by the window, looked at his watch. “Not a lot but some. And if the jet misses its time slot, we’ll just request another.”

      Private jets and time slots. Rory tried not to look impressed. But she was. She was traveling to the Caribbean in style. Rory tried to think calmly. She’d done most of her packing last night but she’d thought she’d have time to finish up this morning. Thanks to Troy’s mom going walkabout from her nursing home, that hadn’t happened. She and Troy had spent three hours looking for her and had eventually tracked her down in a garden center sitting on a bench between two cherry trees. Rory was glad Troy’s mom was okay but her temporary disappearance had put a serious dent in Rory’s schedule.

      “Passport and credit card,” Mac told her. “You can buy anything else you need there.”

      So spoke the man with far too much disposable income, Rory thought. She held up her hand in a silent gesture for him to be quiet. She needed to think, and him standing in her little apartment, looking so hot, wasn’t helping. All she could think about was that she was leaving the country with a sexy man who just had to breathe to turn her on.

      Her eyes dropped to his arm, which rested in a black sling. He was injured, she reminded herself.

      You could go on top...

      Rory slapped her hand across her forehead.

      “Tell me about Puerto Rico,” Rory said, hoping the subject would distract her from thinking about straddling Mac, positioning herself so that...argh!

      “It’s an island in the Caribbean,” Mac replied.

      “Don’t be a smart-ass. Tell me about the house where we’re staying.”

      Mac leaned his shoulder into the wall and crossed his legs at the ankles. It was so wrong that he looked at home in her apartment, like he had a right to be there. “The house is situated about thirty-five minutes from San Juan, on a secluded cove near only two other houses. It’s three stories, mostly open-plan and it has glass folding doors that open up so you feel like you are part of the beach and sea.

      “The owners of the other two properties are off-island at the moment so we’ll be the only people using the cove.” Mac added.

      Rory swallowed at the low, sexy note in his voice. She’d be alone with Mac, on a Caribbean island, with warm, clear water and white beaches and palm trees. Utterly and absolutely alone. She wasn’t sure whether the appropriate response was to be thrilled or terrified.

      Or both.

      Sex and business don’t mix! He’s your patient!

      Sun, sea, sexy island...sexy man.

      Get a grip, Kydd. Not liking the cocky look in his eyes, the glint that suggested he knew exactly what she was thinking, she lifted her nose. “Well, at least we won’t disturb the neighbors with your screams of pain when we start physio.”

      “Or your screams of pleasure when I make you fall apart in my arms,” Mac replied without a second’s hesitation.

      Rory’s heart thumped in her chest but she kept her eyes locked on his, refusing to admit he rattled her. Instead of making her furious, as it should, his comments made her entire body hum in anticipation. Her body was very on board with that idea.

      Rory folded her arms and rocked on her heels. “I hate it when you say things like that.”

      “No, you don’t. You want to hate it because it turns you on.” Mac looked up at the ceiling. When he looked back at her, his expression was rueful. “Ignore me, ignore that.”