Like a Hurricane. Roxanne St. Claire

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СКАЧАТЬ him, her heavenly body molded to his in the tiny confines of the elevator.

      This was the definition of agony and ecstasy. He muttered a soft curse. She spat out a hard one.

      In one more second, she’d surely realize what a positive impression she was making.

      “I can open them,” she said, sticking her hand through the opening his arm made between the doors.

      Her jaw clenched, her eyes crinkled and a tiny pulse in her slender necked thumped. He let his gaze drop again, this time the angle giving him a direct shot down into her incredible cleavage. Good God, was nothing about this woman ordinary?

      She swore again and grunted, inadvertently pressing her thigh between his legs and mumbling something about a cable.

      Unfortunately, his body responded for him. Instantly, she jumped up and did that little bird-squawk thing again.

      Quinn managed to stand. He twisted his arm and forced the doors open until they locked into place. The elevator had fallen about two feet. “I can climb up there and then help you up,” he said. Not that he wouldn’t like to stay trapped in a four-by-four-foot space with her, but they’d probably run out of air. Or self-control.

      “I think you’ve helped me enough today.” Her voice was tight, but there was a glimmer in her eye. A very pretty glimmer. “You go and I’ll work on the broken cable.”

      “No way,” he said hoisting himself up in one move. He turned and reached for her arm. “It’s not safe in there.”

      “You’re probably right.” With a resigned sigh, she scooped up her shoes, then reached toward him. She locked her slender arms around his much stronger ones and he lifted her over the step and into the hallway with ease.

      She looked up at him and beamed. “Thanks.” Her smile was absolutely deadly. “The elevator is a little unpredictable in this place. But really that’s part of the charm.”

      The only charm he could see was a five-foot-six-inch blue angel with a writing utensil in her hair and a body that could bring a man to his knees. Just the thought of being on his knees in front of her made his blood go rushing off to that same place again.

      He jammed his hands into his pockets and looked into those magic eyes. “So, did they bring you in for the night shift or are you the regular repair person in this dump?”

      An endearing flush spread across her cheeks. She reached up and tucked a stray espresso-colored strand into the pencil, then dropped her shoes on the floor and straightened them with her bare foot. “It’s not a dump.”

      “It ain’t exactly the Taj Mahal.”

      His wit seemed to have lost its luster with her. No smile brightened her face and she kept her eyes averted. “It has its strong points, believe me.”

      He stifled a laugh. “Name one.”

      “I could name several. It’s authentic and…and historic.”

      Instead of laughing, he shot a pointed glance at the elevator. “More like awful and ancient.”

      “The rooms are delightful.”

      “The building is dilapidated.”

      She crossed her arms under her breasts, a move that had to be illegal in some states. “There are claw-foot bathtubs.”

      “With the original plumbing,” he added with a wink.

      “Windows that open to the sea.”

      “Which is a good thing.” This time, he did laugh, fighting the urge to tap the irresistible cleft in her chin. “Because there’s no air-conditioning.”

      She scowled at him, the loss of her smile like the sun dipping behind a cloud.

      “You obviously like the place,” he said hastily. “Or you work here.”

      “Both.”

      Ah, so that was why all the loyalty. An employee might be just the ticket to give him the inside dirt on the property…and the owner. Maybe he could soften her up and get the real scoop on Nick Whitaker’s insurance scam over dinner. And breakfast.

      “But you didn’t answer my question.” The note of accusation was back in her voice. “What are you doing up here? This floor is unoccupied and for service personnel only.”

      He didn’t want to lie, but if she worked here, she’d figure out immediately that he was with the company looking to purchase the property. That would surely color her information.

      “I got lost. My room’s on the second floor and I took the stairs too far.”

      She frowned and regarded him. “You’re a guest?”

      He would register as soon as they got downstairs. Then he wouldn’t be lying. He’d been planning to stay on another Jorgensen property anyway, and had to be up before dawn to get to another job site in Minneapolis. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

      “Well, I hope you have a nice stay.” She bent over to slip her feet into the sandals, denying him the chance to see if that information elicited even a hint of disappointment. “Be sure to catch the beach,” she said, still working the strap of her shoe. “It’s one of the most beautiful views you’ll see while you’re here.”

      The image of her gorgeous legs hanging from the ceiling flashed in his mind. “Oh, I’ve seen some incredible sights already.”

      She stared up at him, those blue-green eyes questioning and daring and laughing all at the same time. Time stopped. Atoms froze. A weird tingling sensation went zinging through his gut. The gut that he always trusted. The gut that he knew would tell him the instant he finally met…

      The one.

      Quinn McGrath never ignored his gut.

      “But maybe you could show me the beach,” he said softly, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “Are you free for dinner?”

      Then she treated him to a sly smile that did really dangerous things to his heart and the other part that hadn’t yet settled down. Before she could answer, the elevator clunked and the doors rumbled closed behind her.

      “My bag!” She spun around and made a quick pass at the doors, but they closed too fast. “Oh—” She swallowed what was surely another creative curse, then hit the wood with one ineffective punch before turning to him. “You didn’t happen to leave the stairwell door open, did you?”

      He shook his head. “Don’t tell me. The key is in your bag.”

      Her shoulders slumped a little. “All right. I won’t tell you the key is in my bag.”

      “Isn’t there another way down?”

      “Can you scale the balconies of a three-story building?”

      Actually, he could, but the possibility of being stuck with a barefoot contessa on the abandoned floor of a hotel seemed far more enticing.

      “Won’t СКАЧАТЬ