anything about it. She should get up right now, even before he could kiss her, if that's what he indeed intended. Even if that's all he wanted.
Because, God, it wasn't all she wanted.
The fact was, she'd sacrificed more than holidays and her heart to Duncan. She'd lost her self-esteem and she knew, without reason but without a doubt, that this man could fill the holes in her soul. It might only be with tinsel and flash - he was that beautiful - but she'd come to Coronado because home left her so empty.
Anything would be better.
Who was she kidding? This man wore sex like cologne. Unless she was very mistaken, he would be better than anything she'd ever dreamed.
Though maybe Duncan had found her lacking in that department, she suddenly thought, tensing. Maybe that explained -
The stranger slid his free hand down the fall of her hair, as if sensing she needed soothing. "Yeah, I wasn't go to seek anyone out to night," he continued in that slow voice, and she not only heard the words but felt them as a rumble against her body that was resting against his. Crackling awareness filled up the little distance between their mouths and eyes. Then it expanded into a bubble around them, and she thought if she waved her fingers, the electric static would set off sparks.
Between her thighs, a location she'd considered all-but-forgotten, tingled with life. A tightness at the tips of her breasts said they were awakening too.
The man leaned closer and his sandpapery cheek gave hers a slow caress. She wanted to moan with the goodness of it. Her head was dizzy, maybe with mojitos, maybe with the sudden disappearance of her normal inhibitions.
Was he the good time she'd been seeking?
His whisper sounded like seduction in her ear. "But since you came to me, sweetheart..."
Chapter 3
Women had always been a weakness of his, Tanner Hart admitted to himself, looking down at the flushed, long-legged beauty in his lap. When he'd spied her careening toward him out of the crowd, he'd had a gut-churning moment of foreboding when he thought she was his bad luck charm, Desiree, but one breath of her scent, one second of her resting in the cradle of his body, and he'd known she was someone else entirely.
Funny, though. The foreboding wasn't fully gone.
And because of that, and because he'd given his vow, he knew he should set her back on her feet.
But hell, it was New Year's Eve and how could one little kiss hurt? He was just drunk enough to forget that it was one little kiss that had fried his ass in hellfire to begin with.
So Tanner bent his head toward her, his gaze on her lips, flushed such a pretty red. He smiled a little, appreciating the passionate color. In his experience, a woman's mouth reddened to the exact same shade as her ni -
"Here's your drinks," a no-nonsense voice grated out.
Tanner's head jerked up. His eyes met those of his brother, Troy, as the other man clacked down another beer and some girly drink on the table.
"I was this close to tossing her butt out," Troy said, nodding toward the figure in his arms.
That was Troy, all right, out to save Tanner, his Marine medals always invisibly pinned to his T-shirt.
"But now I realize..." His brother's voice trailed off.
"Yeah," Tanner agreed, reading Troy's mind. His arms tightened possessively on the flushed beauty, even though he figured the other man's presence had ruined the moment.
Now that most of the midnight kissing in the bar was complete, his chance of getting a second shot at the dark-haired female he held was probably remote. Too bad, he thought, but it was probably for the best. After all, he was sworn off the opposite sex until he got his career problems straightened out and his life back under his control.
"She's not her," he told Troy. "She's..." He tilted his head to study the woman in his arms. While her hair was silky darkness like his bad luck charm's, and what he could tell of her body claimed the same stellar curves, instead of possessing the slight exotic cast of the big D's features, this woman's were of the apple-cheeked, cute-nosed variety.
Lovely in the extreme, but one hundred percent American rose. Long-stemmed. Dewy. Velvety. Sweet.
In that paper crown, she looked like a princess who should be reigning over the American Legion's parade float on the Fourth of July.
"...definitely not Desiree," he finished.
The girl's face flushed deeper