Kiss Me Again Read online

  Lesson learned. Don’t mess around with strange women. And they didn’t come stranger than Riley Flynn. He’d seen her dancing on her front lawn at midnight in a lace slip nightie for heaven’s sake.

  So why was he sitting in her kitchen thinking about kissing her, as he watched her push a stray lock of silky hair off her face while she made iced tea?

  Not that he ever would.

  But when he held her in his arms this morning, something about her piqued his interest, made his gut clench in an odd way, and warmed his insides.

  She was not his type.

  Not that he had a type any longer. He just knew she was way too cheerful and comical for his liking.

  Okay, so this morning hadn’t been a great example of her zany side, but even then she’d managed to back right into him. They’d been reversing off their drives most mornings for weeks without incident. He reversed to the right, and she to the left. Usually, he got off his drive and on his way before she even started her engine.

  Once or twice he noticed her little ritual of hunting around the car for something. Her car keys, he guessed, from the way she pulled down the visor, flipped it back then started searching her car and in her giant shoulder bag.

  This morning though, she got in, started the engine, and backed out without even a pause.

  Almost as soon as he’d arrived, Riley had exchanged insurance details with him—not that he intended to claim on her insurance for his car repairs—then she’d lapsed into a silence that unnerved him.

  Sam breathed in the scent of grilled jerk chicken; his mouth watered.

  Why wasn’t she talking? Every woman he’d ever known never shut up.

  “How did the job hunting go?” Anything to break the silence.

  “It didn’t.” She pushed the lock of hair back again. Nervous habit? “I decided to give the other road users a break and stayed home today.” She poured the tea, brought him a glass then sat opposite him. “I worked on my CV—résumé—instead.”

  Sam took a sip of the icy liquid, appreciating the sharp lemon kick to the tea. “What sort of job were you thinking of going after?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe something in tourism.”

  Sam nodded.

  “Excuse me.” Riley pushed away from the table, stood and went to check on the chicken.

  This was ridiculous. Awkward and ridiculous. “Look, Riley—”

  “Sam, I—” She turned from the grill oven.

  They spoke together.

  “I’m sorry.” Again at the same time.

  They laughed and just like that, the discomfiture between them dissolved.

  “You go first.” Sam leaned back in his chair and waited for Riley to speak.

  She drew in a deep breath, wiped her palms on the hips of her cut-offs, drawing Sam’s attention to her long shapely tanned legs and slender bare feet. “I was going to say that I’m sorry about this morning. Not only about your car, but also about the way I cried all over you and practically begged you to go to a wedding with me.”

  “I don’t see it that way. You have no reason to apologize.”

  “Thank you for being so kind.” She eased back onto her chair. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been dreading this evening all day.”

  Not something a guy wanted to discover. Hearing that this woman dreaded spending time in his company dented his ego a little. Especially, since he spent the day reliving the sensation of her body pressed to his in a way that felt too right and made him ache to do more than merely hold her.

  “Part of me hoped you wouldn’t come over,” she continued.

  It just got better, didn’t it?

  She smiled. “But I’m glad you did.”

  If it meant he got to be on the receiving end of that smile, so did he.

  “Because then I can tell you that I don’t need you to come with me to the wedding.”

  “Did you find someone else?” Why did the notion tie his gut in a knot?

  “No. I just don’t want you to feel obligated or anything.”

  “I don’t feel obligated. Or pressured, or anything else you might think. I’ll attend the wedding with you.” For a second, the light sea breeze that blew in Riley’s kitchen window and played with wispy strands of her hair diverted his attention. Sam shook off the distraction. “You deserve the opportunity to stick it to your ex.”

  The truth was that from the moment she’d turned those big tearful amber eyes on him he couldn’t imagine ever saying no to Riley Flynn about anything.

  “Thank you.” She bounced out of her seat, more like the woman Sam had noticed these last weeks. “I promise we won’t stay long. Just long enough to let Beto the jerk see that he didn’t ruin me.” She grabbed the yellow oven mitts and shoved them on with more energy than she needed. “That I’m desirable to other men. Then he’ll regret ever leaving me.”

  Was that what she was really after? The opportunity to make her ex so jealous he might consider ditching his new wife and returning to her? The thought left a bitter taste of bile in Sam’s mouth.

  “Are you hoping to get him back?”

  She paused in checking the grill. “What?”

  “I want to know what you’re expecting from going to Beto’s wedding. Are you hoping to break up his marriage before it even begins? Are you hoping to get him back?” Sam didn’t temper the hard edge to his questions. “Because if you are—”

  “Do you put everyone on the stand as soon as you get into a conversation? Because let me tell you, that’s going to get tired fast.” Riley jammed her mitt-encased fists on her slender hips. “For your information, I do not, and will never, want Alberto Vega in any way. Frankly, I consider myself to have had a lucky escape.” She stared him down.

  Had they been opposing counsel in a courtroom, Sam would’ve known he’d met his match. But they weren’t in court and if he were to cross-examine her, Riley truly was no match for him.

  But she did possess a fire he suspected would keep things interesting. Sam smiled, because despite her touch of craze, he did like a woman with a little fire. “Objection sustained.”

  Chapter Three

  Riley tossed and turned. Then she tossed and turned some more. She couldn’t shut off her thoughts, and sleep remained stubbornly absent.

  What was it about Sam Rutherford that made her skin go all tingly and her stomach leap with a jumping bean sensation?

  Two months he’d lived next door and they hadn’t exchanged more than a few words. She met him the week after he moved in. Late for work and rushing around looking for her car keys—she swore they possessed legs and a wicked sense of humor, because she somehow managed to misplace them most mornings. She’d stumbled over some invisible obstacle on the way to her car while rummaging in her bag for the elusive keys when Sam strolled from his villa looking like he’d just walked off a GQ photo shoot. Everything in Riley paused—even her breath.

  Sam raised a hand in greeting. “Morning,” he said in a smooth seductive voice, so deep and resonant it sent warm chills through her.

  Still trying to catch her breath, she’d stammered, “G-good morning…welcome to the neighborhood.” The “neighborhood” consisted of six exclusive whitewashed bungalow-style villas on the north side of the island overlooking the secluded Lover’s Beach.

  “Thank you.”

  As late as she had been, Riley couldn’t stop the crazy impulse to keep him talking just so she could listen to his voice.

  “My name is Riley,” she’d called as he opened his car door. “Riley Flynn.”

  “Sam Rutherford. Nice to meet you, Riley Flynn.” The sound of her name in that bone-melting baritone nearly liquefied her on the spot. And still she couldn’t let him drive away just yet. “What do you do?”

  “Attorney.”

  His jaw clenched in obvious irritation, and Riley realized that Sam Rutherford was not up for small talk or making friends with her so, with a careless wave, she’d turned and got into her car, relieved to find her
keys in the ignition.

  Now thoughts of him haunted away her sleep. Dinner had gone well in the end. Sam complimented her on the jerk chicken with fruity rice and her special coleslaw. And she tried not to beam with satisfaction. It had been a while since she last received a compliment on her cooking from a man. It had been a long time since she received a compliment of any kind. She’d enjoyed Sam’s company.

  Should she invite him for dinner tomorrow night?

  No, not a good idea. He’d think she was trying too hard.

  Boy, she wished she could fall asleep. Maybe she could go for a walk, clear her thoughts and tire herself enough to be able to zonk out. Decision made, Riley slipped from her queen sized bed and pulled on a pair of white “boyfriend” pants, the white tee she’d discarded on top of the wash basket, and deck shoes. The night was balmy and a cool breeze caressed her skin as she strolled aimlessly past the other red roof villas on the crescent. Riley was used to taking late-night strolls to the secluded beach. Crime was low and she never had a reason not to feel safe. That wasn’t to say there wasn’t the occasional break-in or robbery. Just that she’d never been on the receiving end.

  Riley rolled the tension from her shoulders before gathering her hair and securing it with an elastic hair band from her wrist. She needed to get some sleep so she could make an early start dropping copies of her CV into businesses. If she didn’t get a job soon she’d have no choice but to pack up and head back home. She might even have to move back into her old room at her parents’.

  Shudder.

  Riley’s parents sustained a love/hate relationship. They couldn’t live with each other and they couldn’t seem to live without each other either. Once or twice they’d called it quits and had attempted to find other partners, only to gravitate back together within months. Apparently, each couldn’t live with anyone else either. The last thing Riley wanted was to return to refereeing her parents’ fights. But if she didn’t find work soon, she might not get a choice in the matter.

  She couldn’t envision leaving Nevis. This was home and where she wanted to be. Perhaps she’d visit her friend May-May and find out if she needed help in the delicatessen. It wasn’t her ideal job and certainly not what she was qualified to do. But when needs must.

  Perhaps she could ask her parents for a loan to tide her over until she found a new job. No, there was no point in even trying. Her parents would say no in the hope that it forced her to return home.

  If she did, she might as well concede failure and Riley would never do that.

  On her way back from the beach, she caught a glimpse of something moving fast between her and Sam’s villas.

  A cat?

  A man?

  What?

  She couldn’t tell. Never one to run in the opposite direction to trouble, Riley took off after the “something”. She imagined that if this were a movie, people would be yelling don’t go down there. But it wasn’t a movie. She knew self-defense, and the hours with Billy Banks and her punching bag made her feel ready to face any threat, so she wasn’t really being too stupid to live.

  She sprinted down the path and rounded the corner.

  Nothing.

  Not a person or animal as far into the distance as she could see.

  She headed back to her place and that’s when she noticed the open window in Sam’s villa, right about where she’d seen the flash of movement on the wraparound terrace. She veered toward the window. The mosquito screen was missing. She peeked in. The room looked like Sam used it as an office and it was a shocking mess. Files, paper, and books littered the floor, desk, and sofa.

  What if the thief had hurt Sam? What if he was lying injured while she wasted time chasing a shadow? She planted her hands on the window ledge, pushed herself up and hooked her leg over the sill. Careful not to disturb any potential evidence, she gingerly put her foot down and slipped through the open space. Using the curtain as a barrier between her fingers and the window she closed it behind her.

  Silver rays from the full moon illuminated the room, giving her enough light to see that the thief had left Sam’s computer, laptop, music system, and television. From the paperwork strewn everywhere, the perpetrator was clearly looking for something specific.

  Riley’s heart drummed in her chest as she slowly made her way around the desk to see if Sam was hurt on the floor. When he wasn’t there or anywhere in the room, her heart pounded that bit harder. Her hands shook. In fact, her whole body vibrated as she crept out the room and headed in the general vicinity of where she thought his bedroom might be.

  What if he’d been asleep and someone had snuck in and—

  She couldn’t let the thought take form. She may barely know him, but she couldn’t bear to imagine anyone harming Sam. Since she didn’t want to risk touching anything, and her eyes had adjusted to the dimness, she didn’t turn on any lights as she picked her way through the villa.

  The deep breathing and occasional light snore of a man guided her to Sam’s bedroom. The door was wide open. Sam lay on his front in the middle of a king-size bed, his hands beneath the pillows cradling his head. Relieved to find him okay she crept closer. The sheet covering him rode low on his body, leaving the muscular length of his back exposed. His mouth was slightly open and more stubble than usual covered his jaw. Relaxed in sleep he was beautiful. She clamped down the sudden urge to crawl into bed beside Sam’s big toasty body and snuggle in close.

  Instead, she reached out and touched his bare shoulder.

  “Sam?” She gave him a gentle shake so as not to startle him awake. A person could give someone a heart attack like that. Not that Sam looked like there was anything wrong with his heart. But you never know.

  “Sam?” She shook him again. Not as gentle this time as she tried to ignore the heat of his skin against her palm, and his muscles so hard even in sleep. “Sam.”

  “Mmm?” He didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t seem to have woken completely but maybe once she started talking to him he’d come fully awake.

  “I think someone broke into your villa, the window in your office was open.”

  When he didn’t respond she leaned closer. “Sam?”

  Gosh, he smelled so good. All sleepy and manly and just plain yummy.

  “I left it open,” he muttered in a whispered husk, and burrowed into his plump pillows.

  “Well someone must’ve taken advantage of the fact and came in.” She crouched down level with him. “Your laptop is still there so I don’t think they took any of your electrical gadgets, but it looks like they were looking for something. The place is a total mess.”

  “Mmmm.” The sleepy murmur sent warmth sweeping through her belly, intensifying her urge to get in bed with him.

  “Sam? Did you hear me?”

  “Mmm…it’s a mess…I made it that…” Snore… “Waay.”

  “You’re responsible for the state of your office?”

  “Hummm…”

  “Sam?” She shook him. Hard. “Sam?”

  He was not budging. He let out another soft snore, then a deeper, louder one that told her he’d gone right back to sleep. Assuming he’d woken in the first place.

  Since she couldn’t sleep anyway, Riley got to work on Sam’s office. Years as a personal assistant taught her the benefits of a good filing system. She fired up Sam’s computer, opened Excel and got to work creating a system he would no doubt find a life saver. Once he got used to it.

  She re-shelved the books, gathered files, made notes, collated information and worked through the night to tidy the deplorable mess Sam had made of his filing system.

  Chapter Four

  That was the best sleep Sam had in a long time. Bizarre. But good. Refreshing in a strange kind of way. He’d dreamt of Riley. That she snuck into his room, got into bed with him, and complained about the mess his files made of his home office.

  Weird.

  He stretched, rolled his head on his shoulders then jumped out of bed. He’d grab a coffee, hit the shower and he
ad off to work. Or maybe he’d go for a run, then grab the coffee and shower before work.

  What time was it anyway? He glanced at the clock: 6:45. He must’ve fallen back to sleep after hitting his alarm at six o’clock. No time for that run. Just coffee and a shower. He headed for the kitchen. His feet skidded to a stop outside his office. The door was open and as clear as anything there was Riley asleep on his sofa.

  Curled up like that, she was cute and had a vulnerability that brought out the protective side of him. Her exotic scent lingered in the room as if Riley couldn’t help leaving her presence wherever she went. She used one arm as a pillow, the other hand nestled under her cheek, her knees drawn up until she was practically a ball. She looked at home, almost as though she belonged in his villa. His chest did a peculiar tightening thing. For a moment he couldn’t move, only watch her. She’d pulled her hair into a messy pile atop her head and had exchanged her shorts for white, loose-fitting sweatpants. The tee she’d worn the night before clung to her curves in a way that had him swallowing hard. There was nothing provocative about the way she was dressed, yet the sight of her urged him to scoop her up and take her to his bed. He didn’t move, didn’t trust himself to step another foot into the office. But he continued to watch her sleep. She had delicate features, the kind that were pretty and cute but had potential to be regal and sophisticated. Sam let his gaze drift over her oval face—more beautiful in sleep—from her slightly parted lush lips, over the soft curve of her cheek and small turned-up nose to the arch of her eyebrows a shade darker than her sun-kissed bronze hair, to her smooth brow.

  Even her ears were cute.

  Cute was not good. Cute made a man do stupid things, like forget he wasn’t looking to start anything with his neighbor.

  Cute was very bad.

  “What the hell?” Anger would keep cute at bay.

  Riley shot up like a runner at the start of a race and the gun had just gone off.

  “Sam?” She swung her feet to the floor, her gaze dashed to him then snapped away as she frantically began to look for something in the cushions beside her hip.