She nodded and followed him inside to take a seat on his couch. With impressive sleight of hand, he shoved a T-shirt under a chair that had missed the hamper by about twenty-five feet and two walls and slid a cereal bowl behind a framed picture of his mom and dad at Disneyland.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said inanely.
Duh. But she’d completely thrown him for a loop. His gut was screaming at him to snatch her up and sink into her, which was probably not the best way to greet a woman you’d hung out with for a couple of days under extreme circumstances.
“I know. I wasn’t expecting me either.” She bit her lip, tipping him off that she’d said something she considered awkward. It was just as cute as he remembered. “I mean, this was totally impulsive. Eight hours ago, I was in the middle of developing the film from our… photo shoot, and the next thing I knew, I was at Louis Armstrong airport booking the next flight to San Diego.”
Reminder. He still had the package clutched in his hand. “Thank you for the picture. Can I look at it?”
She nodded. “Otherwise I’m going to feel really silly for bringing it all this way.”
The wrapping tore off easily, revealing a black-and-white print. Of his face. Only.
There’d been a whole lot more nakedness going on at the time, but this carefully cropped version of reality hit him sideways. “I don’t understand. Did the rest of my body break the film or something?”
Not that he was interested in seeing himself in all his glory, but the experiment had meant something to her. It wasn’t about the final product, but about the experience. It should have been a watershed moment where she learned that it wasn’t so hard to get the right pose out of her photography subjects as long as she actually talked to them.
He’d wanted to give her that.
She rose from the couch and crossed to where he was standing near the bar that separated the living area from the kitchen. The photograph slipped from his hands as she took it and laid it on the counter.
He let himself fall into her expressive eyes as she captured his gaze.
“The original is amazing. I could win awards with it. But it’s for me. Not for public consumption. This?” She tapped the photo. “Is me telling you that I finally figured out what I want.”
He had to smile at that. Maybe the boudoir shots had borne fruit for her after all. “Good for you, honey. What do you want?”
“I want a man who looks at me like that,” she whispered. “Look at your face. You’re telling me that I’m beautiful, that you want me. That scared me. The adventure wasn’t about photography, not for me. It was about not being afraid of expressing myself, to hell with the consequences. So here I am. Telling you that I want more than one night on a deserted island.”
Something altogether beautiful plowed through his chest and burst open inside with a wash of heat that was so powerful he scarcely knew what to do other than roll with it.
She wanted more. And had come here to tell him she wasn’t done after all. She’d opened her mouth and told him what she wanted. Without twisting the braided silver band on her finger one time. It was so… everything.
Because he wasn’t done either.
Before he could recall all the reasons it was a bad idea, he reached out and yanked her closer to see if she still tasted as divine as she had when saltwater air had been the seasoning du jour. Also known as what he should have done in that hotel. His intuition had been correct, and he’d ignored it.
Her mouth opened under his, and the little mewl of pleasure she made enlivened him and oh, God, yes, she tasted amazing on his tongue. So he went for more, diving deep, hefting her body into the grooves of his. Her arms tightened around him, and there were way too many clothes between them.
“How long until your return flight?” he growled against her lips, circling his instant erection against the softness of her stomach. The friction nearly put him on his knees.
“I don’t have one.”
“Good answer.” And then he swung her up into his arms to carry her to his bedroom. No, he had not forgotten the forlorn little comment she’d made back on Green Cay about not being a woman who inspired men to sweep her off her feet.
She was. He wanted to show her that.
Her dark eyes widened, but she instantly settled in with a happy sigh. “I’m not even wearing flip-flops.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He nuzzled the sweet flesh of her neck. “You’re the kind of woman a man just can’t wait to have. Figured it would be faster if I carried you to the bed. Where I’m going to show you how much I appreciate your personal delivery service. ”