Forbidden

Still hovering between the lassitude of sleep and full wakefulness, she slid out of bed and headed to the bathroom, certain the whole episode had been some kind of bizarre illusion.

But it had seemed so real…

Switching on the light, she caught sight of her reflection in the large mirror over the dual-sink vanity. She was naked. That revelation was enough to cause a stirring of alarm, considering she never slept in the nude.

Bits and pieces flooded her mind, solidifying facts and wiping away any last remnants of slumber. Last night hadn’t been a figment of her imagination. The proof mocked her-in the form of red patches on her skin caused by the light stubble that had been on Josh’s jaw. She was marked everywhere! Branded by whisker bums!

She touched the abrasion on her neck; it was warm to the touch and a little sensitive. Her fingers fluttered lower, to the chafed skin on her breasts. Vivid memories leapt to life, of Josh rubbing his cheek gently against the plump flesh before flicking his tongue over her nipple. And then there were the pink scratches on her flat belly, and more evidence of whisker burn between her thighs. She lightly touched those scrapes, remembering how the raspy sensation had aroused her as much as his mouth and hands had, and recalling her shameless response to the wicked things he’d done to her.

A shudder rippled through her, and a low groan caught in her throat. She closed her eyes as much to shut out the arousing memories assaulting her senses, as to block out how rumpled and wanton she looked.

But she couldn’t forget.

Another vision intruded, the image wispy and fleeting, like a dream. Only it hadn’t been a dream, but reality in its purest sense. She’d slowly woken in the middle of the night, feeling lethargic but very aware of a large hand fondling her breasts and the press of an erection nestled against her bottom.

She recalled thinking she wanted him. Again. With the same desperation as the first time. But he’d gently eased her onto her belly, followed her with the length of his body, and whispered in her ear that this time they were going to take it slow and easy.

He’d made love to her lazily, their bodies so in sync, it was hard to believe they’d been lovers for just one night His lips pressed damp kisses on her neck, his tongue traced the shell of her ear. When he’d murmured so sexily, “Come for me,” she’d unraveled and had done just that. He was with her all the way, taking them up that crest at a leisurely pace that drew out the pleasurable sensations shimmering between them.

Paige opened her eyes and stared at her horrified expression. She pressed her palms to her flushed cheeks. Oh, Lord, what had they done? What had she done? In a moment of weakness she’d sought comfort in Josh’s arms, had bared herself emotionally and physically. His healing touch had been like a balm to her battered and bruised heart. He’d made love to her as if she were the only woman left on earth, had settled for no less than her full surrender.

In return, she’d given him her body, her heart, and the part of her soul that had been lost for so long. She’d always cared for Josh, possibly even loved him on some level beyond friendship. Last night had been a culmination of those feelings. She’d needed him as much as he’d needed her-needed to feel something other than the pain of Anthony’s deception. Making love with Josh had wiped out the horrible truth about her husband for a few hours. With Josh, she’d felt more alive and desirable than she had in the past three years.

But it couldn’t, and wouldn’t, happen again. No matter what had transpired between them last night, no matter that Josh had claimed a part of her Anthony never had, involving herself with Josh beyond a platonic friendship was pure madness. Sheer stupidity. It had taken her three months to make difficult decisions about her future and decide what she wanted to do now that she had nothing substantial left to keep her ied to Miami. Especially when her entire family lived n Connecticut. The last thing she needed was her bloscoming feelings for Josh to get in the way of her plans-plans she intended to expedite as a result of last night’s encounter.

Ignoring the ache in her chest, she made a mental note to call her realtor and broker first thing Monday morning and begin the sale proceedings on the house and the Wild Rose. Then she rummaged a clip from the vanity drawer, secured her hair on top of her head, and stepped into the spacious tiled shower.

Fifteen minutes later she exited the bathroom, feeling nore refreshed and awake, and determined not to alow the most emotionally fulfilling night of her life to interfere with her friendship with Josh.

She combed her hair and left it down, brushed her teeth, and put on a light application of makeup. Keeping in mind the various abrasions on her body, she opted for a hunter-green turtleneck and cream-colored slacks. Slipping on a pair of leather flats, she exited the bedroom, certain Josh was still there, considering she’d interrupted him before he could finish telling her about Anthony, and the case he’d been working on.

The living room was straightened, their coffee cups gone, the ashes in the grate completely cooled. The eat, folded pile of clothes and underthings she’d shed for Josh was the only evidence of what had transpired last night.

The sliding glass door leading to the deck was open, and through the screen she saw Josh leaning against the railing, staring out at the blue ocean, his long fingers wrapped around a coffee mug with curls of steam drifting from the rim. He was dressed in the clothes he’d worn yesterday, his shoulder holster back in place, his Beretta tucked securely inside. His posture was decep tively relaxed, but she knew at any given moment those lean muscles of his could spring into action-in less than two seconds he could have his gun out of the hol ster and drawn. He was trained to protect and serve and shoot to kill if the situation warranted it

Then he turned, as if sensing she stood there, and she had no choice but to open the screen door and step out onto the deck. She had no intention of avoiding him, on their morning-after conversation. The sooner they hashed things out, the better.

But she hadn’t counted on him looking at her with such tenderness. Never would have expected the sensual, possessive smile that curved his mouth. Couldn’t have anticipated that his smoldering brown eyes would touch her as intimately as his hands and mouth had last night.

She damned her traitorous body for responding to him after her stern lecture to herself in the bathroom.

“Good morning,” he said, bringing his coffee mug to his lips, watching her over the rim while he look a drink.

Even his voice was richer, she thought. Sexier than she could ever remember. It was a bad sign that she noticed. Real bad.

“Good morning,” she replied easily. Coming up be side where he stood by the white wooden railing encasing the deck, she stared out at the expanse of sane stretching toward the beach, still damp from the previous night’s rain. The bright sun shimmered off the calm ocean, and a cool breeze lifted her hair away from he face.

She filled her lungs with a breath of clean, sea air “Judging by the beautiful weather today, you’d never guess that there was such a ferocious storm last night.”

“That’s typical Miami weather for you.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.” Like strangers, they were reduced to talking about the weather. Inane conversation when there were so many personal issues to address. She’d never had a problem talking to Josh before. Their ability to communicate freely was one of the things she’d loved best about their friendship. She hated to think that last night might have put a crimp in that aspect of their relationship.

An awkward silence stretched between them, until she wanted to scream in frustration. She could feel his gaze on her, knew he was watching her, and finally gathered the fortitude to look at him and be done with it.

Up close and personal she noticed he looked different. Then the change registered-no dark stubble this morning. “You shaved,” she said, the words escaping before she could stop them.

He ran a palm over his smooth cheek, a grin creasing his mouth. “Yeah. I used your razor. And your toothbrush. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Considering the sensual things they’d done to one another during the course of the night, she wasn’t about to balk at that simple intimacy.

Catching sight of a light, purplish-blue discoloration on his jaw, she felt a wave of remorse wash over her. Without thinking, she reached out and lightly touched the tender spot. “You’re bruised.” Her voice was as soft as her gently probing fingers.

Awareness stirred in the depth of his gaze, darkening with the warmth of desire. For her. “You’ve got quite a left hook.”

Her pulse quickened, a feminine warning she heeded. Abruptly, she pulled her hand back. Lord, she couldn’t even touch him anymore, not even in casual concern, without sparks igniting between them. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for touching me,” he said, deliber- ately misconstruing her apology. “I like the way your hands