floor.”
“This is my suite,” he said. “There are two bedrooms, a small kitchen and several bathrooms. Needing space has always been a problem for me. I don’t like feeling hemmed in. That’s why I insist on the penthouse suite when I cruise.”
She drank some more, considering what he was saying. He had to have money. “Must be expensive,” she said, then felt silly. Sophisticated women didn’t say things like that, or she thought they didn’t without really knowing. “Are you a wanderer, too? I can imagine you liking to be in new places all the time.” That sounded better.
“Sometimes. More lately than… Well, yes, I guess I am like that.”
“Than what?” she said.
John touched her cheek and she stopped breathing. “I can’t imagine a woman who looks like you being alone. Doesn’t seem right.” He shook his head. “You’ve put me too much at ease. I’m running off at the mouth. I almost said I didn’t want to travel so much when I was married, but that’s in the past.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. Her head felt a bit muzzy, but in a good way.
“So am I. Or I was. You get over things. Are you married?”
“No!” The shock in her tone embarrassed her. “I mean, I wouldn’t be here if I was. I’ve never been married.” She had looked after her mother until she died a year ago. The death had not upset Caroline too much. Mother ruled with a heavy hand and that, together with never having enough money, had beaten Caroline into her shell.
She almost laughed aloud. Not enough money? Her mother had lived as if there wasn’t any and died nicely off, which meant that Caroline finally had a cushion to work with.
John studied her with his head on one side. “What about your family?”
“I don’t have one now my mother’s dead.” She shrugged. “I don’t want sympathy because I’m fine with that. I’m ready to move on.”
“Good,” he said. “Looking at you, I’d say you’re going to find it easy to move on and get what you want. You’re going to be fighting off the people who want to be with you.”
“Looking at me? What does that mean?”
“I think you know—you’re gorgeous.” He stood and offered her his hand. When she took it, he pulled her up. “Let me show you the rest of this place. It’s quite something in a Victorian kind of way.”
The solid beat of her heart seemed faster than usual. Her heel caught again and her foot clicked sideways. “It’s the rug,” she said, frowning. She wasn’t sure she sounded completely sober. Better lay off the champagne.
“Take off your shoes,” he said, looking concerned. “I don’t want you twisting your ankles before I even get you on a dance floor.”
She smiled and did as he suggested.
“You should wear a lot of green. It’s good with your hair and eyes.”
The years when she should have learned to take compliments had sped away, but it wasn’t too late to start. “Thank you.”
The kitchen was galley-style and functional. Caroline noted a floral arrangement on the counter. “Flowers in the kitchen,” she said. “Nice.”
There were flowers all over the suite, expensive arrangements with rich, subtle scents. Flowers stood on a short column just inside the bedroom door and there were more on a table in the window.
Caroline’s feet sank into white carpet here, and on the bed, a white-covered duvet had been folded down from white sheets and mounds of pillows.
Draped across the bed, a terry bathrobe gave her the feeling she was in a forbidden place, an intimate place. It wasn’t just a feeling that she was there with the most interesting man she had ever met.
He turned away from her and she started when he shut the door.
With his head cocked, he watched her and she couldn’t form a word. She finished the second glass of champagne and looked into the empty glass.
“There’s more over there,” he said, nodding to a cabinet with a loaded tray on top. “I’m still thirsty. How about you?”
Once more he took the glass, opened a fresh bottle and poured. He set the glass down a moment and stood with his back to her.
Her legs locked. He was unbuttoning his shirt. Unbuttoning and stripping it off. She was faced first with his broad, tanned shoulders, and when he turned to bring her a fresh drink, the low light in the room sent a delineating sheen across his chest.
He gave her an apologetic little smile. “Even with air-conditioning it’s too humid for me in this city. I get so hot.” His eyes flickered to hers again. “How about watching a movie? We could see what’s on.”
Leaving was the only thing that made sense. This was much more than she was ready for—not that she was a wilting virgin, but she was not experienced and she certainly shouldn’t be responding like this to a man who obviously expected her to spend the night with him.
“You okay?” he said, screwing up his eyes. “What is it?”
A steady hum set up in her head. “Nothing.”
“You’re pale.”
“I’m—” Her mouth was so dry she had to keep swallowing. “I’m fine. I should go… It’s time…”
“If that’s what you want,” he said, disappointment evident in the sudden droop of his mouth.
He wasn’t so clear anymore. She could see his blond hair against his shoulders, his face stark in the shadows. Movement took her attention to the hand he rubbed up and down on his chest.
“Now you look hot, too,” he said.
She shook her head.
“Yes, you do. Geez, I’m never going to forgive myself if I’ve made you ill with the champagne. Did you have dinner?”
Caroline couldn’t remember. She stared at him, at the way he shrank and expanded, then just expanded.
She felt the glass leave her hand and John’s hands on her shoulders, shaking her slightly. His face was close.
“I—” Her eyes closed.
His mouth on hers sharpened her senses. She opened her eyes again. John kissed her, gripping her arms tightly, half lifting her from the floor. She heard his hard breathing, tasted champagne on his tongue when he kissed her.
She stood there, letting him move her, letting him take off her clothes until she stood before him, naked. He seemed to smile, but she wasn’t sure. His touch, firm, almost hard, passed over her body, didn’t miss an inch of skin.
Her chin tilted down to her chest because her head was too heavy, and too loud. Lying down was a relief. Stretched out with her eyes closed, things didn’t shift around her so much.
But there were noises. Panting. Moaning—grunting. Her body jerked. Vaguely she knew he was having sex with her. Pushing himself inside, filling her up so tightly it stung. If she could have lifted her arms, she would have tried to push him away. He hurt her. The pressure of his weight crushed her breasts and pinned her down.
He spoke, but she didn’t understand. But she knew when his mouth covered hers, covered not just her mouth but her nose.
Her chest compressed and compressed. Emptiness rushed in. The air was being sucked out of her—by John.
“John,” she tried to cry into his mouth.
The sucking went on.
Her skin prickled. Her mind dimmed.
Drowning?
No, suffocating.
With a huge effort she got her eyes open again and tried to scream. The man spread on top of her was huge. He was John but much bigger and the light in his eyes was fierce,
