Saved by Their One-Night Baby Page 3

  Broken walls, bare wires, the weight and the pain.

  Her grip on his arm was a little tighter now. Maybe she had a thing about lifts. He needed to show her that it would be fine. He covered her hand with his and looked into her eyes, trying to ignore the little fizz of electricity that shot over his skin at that slight touch. Geez, what would his body’s reaction be to something more intense, like kissing her? Getting naked?

  And that was such an inappropriate thought that he let go of her hand. ‘It’s going to be okay, we just need to get it going again.’

  All would be fine. He hammered a fist on the number eleven button. Then on the gate. Then back to the eleven. Eight. One.

  ‘Hey, are you all right?’ She touched his back, making him pause.

  Not wanting to look too deep inside himself, he busied himself with pressing the red security button. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Sure. Me too. I love getting stuck in lifts.’

  ‘We’re not stuck.’

  ‘Okay. I love getting not stuck with a man who wants to not rescue me. Too many nots.’ She put her hand to the back of her neck and moved her head from side to side, as if soothing the knots there too.

  ‘No one’s answering, I don’t think the help button is working. There’s usually a phone somewhere.’ He stabbed at a metal plate on the wall. It swung open, revealing a loose wire hanging over a shelf where a phone had once been. Little beads of sweat pricked the back of his neck.

  ‘No phone. Tant pis. I’ll use mine. Call the manager. Bring your light over here so I can see.’ She tapped her phone. Twice. Two little lines appeared on her forehead. ‘No signal. Looks like we’ll just have to wait. I’m sure it won’t be long.’ She slid to the floor and pulled him to sit next to her, but not before he’d put his phone in the metal box where the real phone should have been. A shaft of pale light hit the far corner and the rest of the elevator was shadows. ‘By the way, my name is Claire.’

  ‘Ethan.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Ethan. I’m a...’ She grinned and bit her bottom lip. ‘What am I, if I’m not a thief? What could I be? I always wanted to be a singer in a rock band, but I can’t sing a note. Or a ribbon acrobat, but I’m not keen on heights. Who should I be today?’ She thought for a moment. ‘I know, I’m a princess of a small principality. I have wealth beyond measure but I work endlessly to help people less fortunate than me. You?’

  ‘I’m not a princess, no.’

  That sparkling laugh again. Heat suffused his skin. He’d never found a woman’s laughter particularly sexy before but hers had a direct line to his groin. ‘Play the game, Ethan. Come on. You don’t know me at all so you can pretend, make something up, be anything you want to be. How would I ever know the truth? Let your imagination wander. Hmm... I know, you’re a dashing knight who likes to drive racing cars. Very fast. Very rich. From...somewhere exotic. You have that look about you. From...?’

  ‘England, actually.’

  ‘No. Play the game. How about Monte Carlo? Somewhere fabulously rich where they won’t let you live unless you have at least thirty million in the bank.’

  ‘I’m not big on games, Claire.’ Unable to just sit there, he powered back up the wall and hammered on the gate, managing to stop himself from shouting because that wouldn’t get them anywhere.

  ‘Why not?’ At his silence she said, ‘I’m just trying to distract you from the fact we really are stuck in a lift and no one seems to be rushing to our aid.’

  ‘I don’t need you to distract me. I’m not a child. It’s just a damned elevator.’ If he said it enough he’d believe it.

  ‘Don’t waste your energy banging and cursing. If the electric’s out, we’ll be here until it’s fixed.’ Her hand snaked into his and she tugged him back down next to her. ‘Tell me, why does a man insist on taking the stairs, and get frustrated when he can’t? Why does he hesitate to get into a lift with a woman he’s having fun with?’

  ‘Maybe I just wanted some exercise.’ Ethan shuddered. How could she see through him? It was unnerving. ‘Maybe I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable after that creep was coming on to you.’

  ‘And maybe there’s a lot more to your story, but you clearly don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  She shrugged. ‘So now you do want to play the game. A mystery man who doesn’t like broken lifts.’

  Hot damn, why did he feel a need to explain? ‘It’s a normal, natural reaction to being trapped. I’d prefer it if we weren’t at the mercy of mechanical things.’

  ‘You’ve had a bad experience in one before?’

  ‘Something like that. A long time ago. I was stuck under a collapsed building.’ He breathed out. He’d never said anything about this to anyone in over fifteen years and yet here he was saying this to a stranger. Maybe it was easier to say these kinds of things to someone you knew you were never going to see again, who wouldn’t call you out on the fact that sometimes you got a little jittery in a tin box. That just happened to be broken. ‘It took a few hours to get me out. Other people died. I was lucky.’

  Lucky. Yeah, he should be grateful for the nightmares—at least he got to wake up. But grateful wasn’t the emotion he generally experienced, not when guilt fitted him like a second skin.

  She put her hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I don’t even know what to say to that. It must have been so frightening.’

  Understatement of the year. He blew out a slow breath. ‘Yes, well, as I said, it was a long time ago. I’d prefer it if we changed the subject.’

  ‘You want to forget it. I understand.’ A beat. Two. Then her sing-song voice again. ‘Hey, do you want a drink? I have a secret stash.’ She dug into her bag and pulled out a silver hip flask, unscrewed the top and took a drink. Coughed. Wiped the top with her palm and handed the flask to him. ‘It could be a long night so we might as well make it a good one. Luckily my papa knows his cognac.’

  ‘Yup.’ Ethan enjoyed the burning sensation sliding down his throat and he felt some of the tension ease. ‘You’re the kind of person I’d like to be stuck with on a desert island.’

  ‘You’re the kind of person I’m enjoying being stuck with in the lift. And, for the record, you don’t make me feel uncomfortable at all.’ She looked at him through wisps of hair that he ached to touch. Then she smiled and it was so uninhibited and free that something in his chest expanded.

  She made him feel hot and a damned sight less stressed. Awareness flared through him as he tried to find words that weren’t filled with innuendo. That wasn’t who he was or what she needed so he tried to get the conversation on to safer territory. ‘Good to hear. And, yes, I’m from England but I’ve been working in Africa for years.’

  ‘Ah. That explains the tan. You like it there? I’ve never been but I’m pretty sure I’ll get there one day. Some of those places sound amazing.’

  ‘It’s perfect for me.’ Not wanting to tarnish the romantic image she clearly had of the place, he didn’t mention the work he did there. ‘So what’s this adventure you’re embarking on?’

  ‘Oh, nothing too major.’ But her grin told him otherwise. ‘I’m running away to sea.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘WHAT THE HELL...?’ Ethan almost choked on his second mouthful of brandy. He’d expected her to say a holiday or a new job, not something so...out there. Plus, the prospect of going to sea seemed to excite her whereas the thought of stepping on that ship tomorrow filled him with dread. Given what he knew of her so far, she could probably make watching paint dry sound like an adventure, but then she was most likely sailing the Med on one of those super-yachts, or a cruise round the Greek islands. She was ethereal, unreal, a dream. A fun-loving, beautiful, laughter-filled dream. ‘Why would you choose to do that?’

  ‘I’ve just had a lucky escape from a crappy relationship with a man
who made a million promises and then let me down on every single one of them. We had everything worked out—the wedding, our future, how many kids we were going to have and at what intervals. And it’s gone. All gone. Pouf!’ She brought her fingertips to her lips and blew out, splaying her fingers. ‘When I looked at what had happened to us I realised we’d been so caught up in the mundane we’d kind of lost all the fun. So I’m grabbing my freedom with both hands, doing things I’ve only ever dreamed of doing. Kind of like a bucket list, but not because I’m dying, because I’m living. Starting again. My girlfriends made me write it as therapy to get over him. I was, like, how do I want my life to look? Who do I want to be?’

  ‘What’s on the list?’

  ‘Run away to sea. Get a tattoo. Drink kava in Fiji. Swim with sharks. Blah-blah...the usual things.’

  Oh, yes, he’d heard it all before. Many of the volunteers he worked with had come to the refugee camps because of their own bucket lists. Whereas he’d started doing the voluntary work precisely because he liked not having lists, not being tied to anything or anyone or any place. ‘So I’m guessing being stuck in a lift with a stranger isn’t on there?’

  ‘Dance with a stranger is there, but getting stuck with one never crossed my mind. Maybe it should have.’

  ‘Maybe it should.’ Possibilities ran through his head—kisses, his hands in her hair. Her up against the wall. Something hot bloomed in his gut.

  ‘And there’s bigger things too, like grasping opportunities, taking risks. I was always too scared to step outside my comfort zone, but here I am.’ Her eyes brightened, shimmering with life and excitement, and he couldn’t look away. God, she was breath-taking in every way; beautiful, sexy as hell, seriously funny.

  ‘Here you are. I hope they get the lift working soon so you don’t miss your boat.’ He hoped they got the lift working soon, period.

  ‘It’s not leaving until tomorrow.’ She shrugged, but her gaze caught his and the awareness tightened and tugged. ‘We have all night, Mr Knight.’

  ‘Looks like we do.’

  ‘Can I tell you a secret?’ She leaned closer and he wasn’t sure who held whose hand first, fitting fingers together, skin sliding over skin. Him? Her? Both at the same time? Awareness turned into an urgent need, as if all his nerve endings were heightened and sensitive to her touch. This dream was getting real and for the first time in his life he wasn’t praying it would end.

  He stroked her palm. What were they doing? Don’t ask questions. They were consenting adults. ‘Sure, tell me your secrets, Claire.’

  She smiled coyly. ‘I’m a fake really. I might sound as if I’ve got it all sorted, but I’m wobbling. I feel as if I’m walking—running even—on a tightrope and there’s no safety net. The girls said it’d be fun to have an adventure and I’m trying to work out whether I’m wildly excited or whether the bubbles in my gut are made from pure terror.’

  ‘Sometimes it’s the same thing. Two sides of the same coin. Here...’ He pulled her to standing and positioned her in one corner of the lift. The space was so damned cramped. He fought the rising sensation in his gut. It’s just an elevator. They’d be out of here soon. He wasn’t pinned down. He wasn’t trapped. He wasn’t staring death in the face. He was looking at the prettiest women he’d seen in a long time and thinking about kissing her. He wasn’t going to let his stupid panic take over. He would take a leaf out of her book and just fake it.

  So he took her hands in his and started to walk backwards across the floor. ‘Walk with me. I’ve got you. Right now. Just don’t look down. You can do this.’

  She took his lead and put one foot in front of the other gingerly, as if she really was walking on a thin rope. ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘You can do this.’ His grip tightened and she squeezed back.

  ‘I can do this.’ She laughed, looking about as far from scared as anyone could be. She pretended to look down and to wobble. ‘Uh-uh.’

  He pulled her to him, anchoring her against his chest, nuzzling into those luscious curls. Her delicious scent stoked the unfurling need in his gut. He wanted to kiss her. To strip away those layers and find the real Claire underneath this act.

  For a few seconds they stayed crushed together, holding on as if neither wanted to let go. Then she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back and fitted herself into his arms. She leaned her head against his chest and then swayed slowly.

  ‘You want to share the tune?’ He laughed into hair that smelt of lemons. ‘Because I can’t hear a thing.’

  ‘Something slow.’ For a few moments she swayed and smiled, her head tilted against his jaw as her hands stroked across his back and over his arms. Then she pulled away slightly and looked up at him, hands locked on his biceps. As she gazed up her eyes misted with need. The atmosphere in the lift crackled and pulsed. She put her cool palm to his cheek, then ran soft feathery fingertips across his lips. His gut contracted with need.

  ‘Dance with a stranger; I can tick that off now. Tell me, Ethan, are you married? In a relationship?’ she whispered, even though there was no one else to hear her. ‘Are you the kind of guy who would cheat?’

  ‘No, no, and definitely, no.’

  ‘Good.’ Closing her eyes, she pressed his lips against her fingertips, the pressure on his mouth tantalising, excruciatingly sexy. He could feel her breath coming fast and soft. The scent of hibiscus filled the air. ‘Then, yes, yes, and definitely, yes.’

  Torn by his warring conscience and the sharp tang of desire, he groaned and fisted his hand in her hair.

  So close. So close.

  Swallowing hard, he tugged her hand from his mouth. Geez. Any guy would think he was an idiot for stopping kissing a beautiful woman who wanted him. ‘Claire, what are you doing?’

  Her eyes flickered open and she smiled. ‘I’m kissing you. I’m taking a risk and I like the way it makes me feel. I like you. You want to take a risk too?’

  Hell, yes. He didn’t need to ask her to clarify, the intent was there in the way she pressed against him and in the thick need in her voice. Words seemed to have got lost between his brain and his mouth, but he dredged them up, because he had to make sure she understood. ‘You need to know that tomorrow I’m gone. I’m not... reliable.’ He broke things apart rather than built them up. But he wasn’t a saint either. ‘I’m not going to make a million promises and break them. I can’t promise you anything at all.’

  ‘Good. I don’t want promises.’ If she’d been paying attention, Claire would have noticed the way admiration had tucked itself into a corner of her heart. He wasn’t going to break her because she wasn’t going to let him or give him the chance to. He wasn’t going to break her, but he was going to kiss her. And hopefully more if she could convince him. Because from what she knew of him already, he was a good honest man, unused to being seduced in a lift.

  As if she did this kind of thing every day! The cognac had taken the edge off her nerves and she could barely believe the words coming out of her mouth. But if she was going to be the person she wanted to be—which was independent, self-actualising and free—then she had to start making changes. This was as good a first step as any.

  Besides, the guy clearly hated confined spaces, so she was just doing her civic duty by distracting him, right?

  She looked up into beautiful eyes that were denim blue and hazy with lust. Lit by the white light of his phone, he looked like something she’d dreamed up—tall and toned, gorgeous strawberry-blond unruly hair and two days’ growth on his jaw that she wanted to scrape her skin against.

  He wasn’t cocky or arrogant, but the very act of pushing her unwanted admirer away and then walking away himself—no come-on, no smart moves—had made her heart trip and her imagination run riot. Who was he? Why had they held hands not once, twice, but three times? Why had his first touch made heat pool low in her gut? How could a man make her feel so sexy when she ba
rely knew him?

  ‘You can be my first adventure. I don’t want to know anything more than your name: Ethan, the racing driver.’ She took his phone and killed the torch app, throwing them into a sensual muted darkness.

  ‘Claire.’ He powered her back against the wall. He may have been chivalrous, but he definitely knew what he wanted. ‘You want to show me some of your acrobatic moves now?’

  ‘Kiss me first.’

  Claire Durand! Asking so blatantly. Her friends would be proud. The first touch of his mouth was scorching. There was no hesitation, no gentle learning. He was exactly what she needed. This kiss was what she craved, the hot, sweet stroke of his tongue turning her limbs almost to liquid, the press of his hand on her face, then her throat, then her breast.

  She ran her hands round his neck, breathing in the scent of fresh air and something exotic.

  He slid his hand under her bra and stroked her nipple. ‘You like that?’

  ‘Yes.’ She was so turned on she could barely manage to speak. Any minute now the lift could start. Any minute now they’d have to stop. She didn’t want him to stop.

  He breathed against her neck. ‘Any other items on your list?’

  ‘This.’ Running her hand over his jeans, she felt the outline of his erection. ‘Sex with a stranger. I didn’t write that, Marianne did.’

  ‘I like Marianne. She sounds like a good sort.’ He drew back, ran his hand up her thigh, making her laugh and squirm. His fingers played with the lace edging on her panties, making her writhe against him. ‘But I like you a whole lot more.’

  ‘I like you too.’ With a flick of her fingers she had his zip down and then she had his length in her hand. He was so hard. For her. To know she’d made him like that made her feel powerful, strong and almost unbearably turned on.

  Kissing him hard, she barely noticed as he tugged her panties down. As she stroked his erection he groaned curse words at her throat, intensifying her need.

  ‘Do you have a condom, my knight?’