Three women. Three fantasies.

Years ago Gemma, Zoe and Violet all took the same

college sex-ed class, one they laughingly referred to as

Sex for Beginners. It was an easy credit—not something

they’d ever need in real life. Or so they thought…

Their professor had them each write a letter, outlining

their most private, most outrageous sexual fantasies.

They never dreamed their letters would be returned

to them when they least expected it. Or that their own

words would change their lives forever…

Don’t miss Stephanie Bond’s newest miniseries:

Sex for Beginners

WATCH AND LEARN

(October 2008)

IN A BIND

(November 2008)

NO PEEKING…

(December 2008)

Sex for Beginners

What you don’t know…might turn you on!

Dear Reader,

Have you ever run across an old childhood diary or a note you wrote in high school or college? It can be fun, and even revealing, to see what you were thinking when you were younger, what things were important to you.

The seniors at Women’s Covington College who took the Sexual Psyche class (dubbed by the students as “Sex for Beginners”) were given an assignment to write down their innermost sexual fantasies in the form of a letter to themselves. Their letter was to be cataloged with a code for anonymity and remain sealed for ten years, then mailed to them.

When international flight attendant Zoe Smythe reads her letter, she’s headed to Sydney, Australia, for a leisurely layover before returning to America to be married. The naughty words she wrote years ago spur her to embark on a last-chance torrid fling with a hunky Aussie…. But will she ever want to leave?

I hope you enjoy In a Bind, the second book in the SEX FOR BEGINNERS trilogy. Please tell your friends about the wonderful stories you find between the pages of Harlequin novels! And visit me at www.stephaniebond.com.

Happy endings always,

Stephanie Bond

STEPHANIE BOND
In a Bind

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stephanie Bond credits romance novels with teaching her world history and geography and for giving her a case of wanderlust. It seemed only natural that she would someday be writing romance novels herself. To date, Stephanie has written more than forty romance and mystery novels, and doesn’t plan on slowing down anytime soon at what she considers to be “her dream job.” Stephanie lives in midtown Atlanta with her hunky architect/artist/hero husband.

Books by Stephanie Bond

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

2—TWO SEXY!

169—MY FAVORITE MISTAKE

282—JUST DARE ME…

338—SHE DID A BAD, BAD THING

428—WATCH AND LEARN

MIRA BOOKS

BODY MOVERS

BODY MOVERS: 2 BODIES FOR THE PRICE OF 1

BODY MOVERS: 3 MEN AND A BODY

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

685—MANHUNTING IN MISSISSIPPI

718—CLUB CUPID

751—ABOUT LAST NIGHT…

769—IT TAKES A REBEL

787—TOO HOT TO SLEEP

805—SEEKING SINGLE MALE

964—COVER ME

For Brenda, of course,

for throwing aside the reins

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

1

“JUST THINK—THIS IS YOUR LAST trip as an unmarried woman.”

Zoe Smythe kept nodding and welcoming aboard first-class passengers on the Atlanta flight bound for Sydney, Australia, trying to ignore her friend Erica’s comment. “Welcome aboard…. Good evening…. May I take your coat?”

Erica leaned in. “Are you going to do something wild and outrageous during your layover in Sydney after I leave?”

Zoe gave a dry laugh. “Hardly. I brought a stack of things that have to be finalized for the wedding.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun,” Erica said, then elbowed Zoe. “Welcome to married life.” Erica cackled at her own joke. “Well, for the two days that I’m there, I propose that we ingest large amounts of alcohol and take up residence in the hotel spa.”

“Sounds good,” Zoe agreed.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and our masseuse will be a big, strapping Aussie.”

“Maybe.” Zoe bit back a smile. Erica’s marriage was sex-starved.

“Seriously, though, I’m going to miss having you on this route, Zoe.”

“Thanks, but a domestic route will allow me to be home more.”

“You’ll be changing back after a couple of years,” Erica said drily.

Zoe frowned good-naturedly, then turned her attention back to the passengers.

“Welcome aboard…. Good evening…. May I take your coat?”

“Yes, thank you.”

At the sound of the thick Australian accent, Zoe tipped up her head to meet the gaze of the clearest, greenest eyes she’d ever seen, slightly hooded and set off with straight, sun-tipped lashes. The man behind them was tall with coarse blond hair cut close to his head and a five o’clock shadow on his square jaw. Zoe sucked in a breath. The stranger exuded raw masculinity. The leather duster he shrugged out of was the color of baked ocher, conjuring up images of the parched land of the Outback. Beneath the rugged coat he wore an impeccably cut gray business suit, although his shirt collar was open and his tie loosened.

A corporate cowboy? How…intriguing. “Did you enjoy your stay in Atlanta, sir?” she asked as she took his coat and suit jacket.

“I did,” he said with a smile. “But it’s always nice to get back home and sleep in my own bed.”

It was an innocent enough statement, one she’d heard travelers say countless times during her stint as a flight attendant. But something about the way he said it conjured up images of the big man sprawled naked in a giant bed made of hand-hewn logs. Zoe gave herself a mental shake. What was wrong with her?

“If I may see your boarding pass, sir, I’ll show you to your seat.”

He handed her the document and her pulse spiked—he was sitting in her section. She glanced at his name—Colin Cannon—then handed back his boarding pass. “Mr. Cannon, right this way.”

Zoe felt his gaze on her back as he followed her, and was absurdly glad she’d taken pains with her appearance. She’d worn one of the sharper uniforms in her work wardrobe, a black skirt and a thin dove-gray wrap sweater, and had twisted her dark brown hair into a low knot on the nape of her neck. She chastised herself for caring what she looked like for this passenger—it wasn’t the behavior of a woman who was a month away from marrying the man of her dreams.

“Here you are, sir, seat 4A. My name is Zoe and I’ll be seeing to your needs during the first half of the flight.” Standing so close, she had to look straight up at the tall man. The proximity unnerved her and suddenly her small talk seemed laced with innuendo.

“Zoe—pretty name.” He was unbuttoning his shirtsleeves, rolling them up, revealing powerful arms that were tanned and covered with light-colored hair.

“Th-thank you. Would you like a cocktail before we take off?”

“A vodka on the rocks would be great, thanks.”

Zoe was relieved to step into the tiny galley to prepare the drink. To her dismay, her heart thudded against her breastbone and her face felt warm.

“Lucky dog,” Erica whispered in her ear. “You always get the hunks.”

“Trade me sections,” Zoe said earnestly.

Erica squinted. “Why?”

Zoe’s mind raced for an excuse. “Uh…I’m getting a vibe from Mr. 4A.”

Erica leaned backward to glance at the topic of conversation.

Zoe grabbed her friend’s arm. “Don’t look! He’ll know we’re talking about him.”

Erica grinned. “So? What kind of vibe are you talking about? He certainly doesn’t look like a perv.”

“No, he’s not a perv. He’s…um…”

“He’s hot.” Then Erica gasped. “Oh my goodness—you like him, don’t you?”

Zoe scoffed. “That’s crazy. I’m getting married in a month, remember?” Feeling out of sorts, she touched Erica’s arm. “Look, just do me this favor, okay?”

Erica shrugged. “Fine with me. But I warn you, the couple in 8A and B seem to be on the verge of a divorce.”

Zoe picked up the drink she’d poured. “Thanks. I’ll deliver this, then check in with your warring couple.”

Exhaling in relief, she walked back to Colin Cannon’s seat where his big body took up every inch of the generous space, his long legs extending to the bulkhead in front of him. The man was vast and unrestrained, like his mother country.

As he lifted his head, he raked his gaze over her legs and every inch of her until he made eye contact. At his appreciative stare, a vacuum seemed to develop around them—her ears popped as if the cabin was changing pressure. There was something about this man that spoke to her…confused her. With a mere glance, he made everything female deep inside her open and expand. Her breathing increased, her throat tightened. Swapping sections with Erica was definitely the right move, she decided. There was something…unmanageable here that she dared not explore.

Her hand shook slightly as she gave him the drink—with good reason. When his fingers brushed hers, a current of awareness shot up her arm. Strangely, a sense of déjà vu tickled her memory, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. Nor did she want to.

“Mr. Cannon,” she said, “as it turns out, I won’t be taking care of this section after all.”

Disappointment flashed across his face. “Did I scare you off?”

Zoe swallowed. “It has nothing to do with you, sir.”

He looked as if he didn’t believe her, then lifted his glass. “Cheers, then.”

She nodded and walked away, troubled by the regret that plucked at her…as if she had turned her back on a life-changing encounter. Something wonderful…or something dangerous. When she stole a glance over her shoulder at the golden-haired Aussie, he was still looking at her with those intense green eyes.

Zoe turned back and manufactured a smile for the young professional couple that Erica had warned her about. Indeed, Jill and Jeremy Osbourne were shooting daggers at each other and trading barbs in tones that did not bode well for the long trip ahead of them. Worse, they seemed determined to draw Zoe into their squabble.

“What do you think about a woman who packs twenty-three pairs of designer shoes for a ten-day trip?” Jeremy Osbourne asked, his words wrapped in sarcasm.

“What do you think about a man who brings his laptop on his second honeymoon?” Jill Osbourne asked in a matching tone.

“Is this your first trip to Australia?” Zoe asked cheerfully.

“Yes,” they said in unison, both sounding miserable.

“I wanted to go to Hawaii,” the woman said, her voice accusing.

“I thought this would be an adventure,” her husband retorted.

“And you expect me to believe that this trip has nothing to do with the fact that your biggest client is in Sydney?” his wife shrieked.

“My job pays for your shoes!” he returned.

“Sydney is a romantic choice for your second honeymoon,” Zoe soothed.

“Are you married?” Jill Osbourne asked.

“In one month,” Zoe said with a smile.

“You still have time to reconsider,” the woman said pointedly.

“It’s certainly not all it’s cracked up to be,” her husband agreed with a shake of his newspaper.

The tension between the couple was palpable. They knew every button to push and continued to antagonize each other over a sumptuous meal of surf and turf. The rich red wine only seemed to fuel their long-running argument. Zoe bit her tongue and wondered why they bothered staying married if they provoked each other so bitterly. If she and Kevin ever argued like that…

She shook her head. She and Kevin would never end up like that. Would they?

They had been together for nearly six years, engaged for half that time. They knew each other so well, sometimes she felt as if they already were married. It was comforting to be so…comfortable. She couldn’t imagine her and Kevin being at each other’s throats the way this couple was. They infected everybody around them….

Instilled doubts.

Which was silly, because no marriage was perfect, was it? She had a healthy grasp of Kevin’s idiosyncrasies, and vice versa. It was good, wasn’t it, that they were friends first, lovers second? And it was good that they didn’t agree on everything—it meant that they both had to compromise. Not that they would end up like this feuding couple…or her own quarrelsome parents…or Kevin’s.

Her anxiety level was driven higher by the fact that she felt the Aussie’s gaze on her as she moved about the first-class cabin, especially when they stopped in San Francisco to refuel and most passengers took advantage of the opportunity to stretch their legs. He paced the aisle, his big body taking up much of the available space. Even first class wasn’t designed for men of his size. She wondered vaguely if he was a professional athlete. Colin Cannon had descended from a pretty spectacular gene pool, and despite the immaculate suit, his body wasn’t that of a man who sat behind a desk for most of his day.

Their eyes met and a shiver of feminine appreciation traveled up her spine. She was as aware of him as if they were sitting next to each other, knees touching. It was strange, feeling as though everyone else on the plane were extras in a private little drama between the two of them. How could she feel such a powerful connection to a person with whom she’d exchanged only a few words?

She couldn’t, she decided, dragging her gaze from his. It was an illusion brought on by the thin air, fatigue and nerves over the unfinished wedding details that still needed to be handled. She tried to put the man out of her mind as the final and longest leg of their flight got under way, tending to the passengers in her section, including the high-maintenance, sniping couple.

By the time her shift had ended somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, the Osbournes had, mercifully, fallen asleep along with most of the other passengers. The cabin was dark except for the lone reading light illuminating the man in 4A. He appeared to be immersed in some sort of thick, bound report, his head bent in thought, his hands moving occasionally to mark a page.

She wanted to ask him what business he was in or if he needed a blanket, anything to hear the pleasing inflection of his accent. Her body tingled, strained toward him, even with multiple rows of seats dividing them. It was an alien feeling. She never flirted with passengers or took advantage of the many opportunities to hook up with single and married men during her travels. She had always been faithful to Kevin, had never even considered getting herself into a situation that could get out of hand.

Until now. There was something so compelling about this man. Zoe half wished she hadn’t traded sections with Erica. Perhaps during the flight she would’ve learned something about him that would’ve rendered him less appealing. He could be married…with a house full of kids…involved in shady business dealings…a male chauvinist…with objectionable views on the human condition.

As if he sensed her attention, he turned his head and smiled, then gestured her over.

Zoe had no choice but to comply. Her heart rate increased with every step. She stopped next to his seat and leaned close so their conversation wouldn’t wake the other passengers. “Yes, Mr. Cannon?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, Zoe, but I left something in the pocket of my suit jacket and I didn’t see where you hung it.”

He smelled of some lingering, unidentifiable spice that warmed her lungs. “I’ll get it for you,” she murmured.

“Thank you.” His mouth curved into a smile that extended to his remarkable, sexy eyes that simmered with just enough merriment to dispel any idea she might have had that he was dangerous.

The coat closet took her out of his range of sight, which gave her a few minutes to compose herself. She was behaving like a schoolgirl, allowing a man’s physical presence to affect her. This wasn’t like her. She put her hand to her forehead and acknowledged the elevated heat. Maybe she was coming down with something. She exhaled slowly. Yes, with a little rest and a couple of aspirin, she’d be back to herself again.

Zoe found Mr. Cannon’s jacket and pulled it out of the closet. When she folded it over her arm, though, something fell out of the inside breast pocket and landed by her foot. A black jeweler’s box—ring size. She scooped it up and looked all around to make sure she was alone. Stroking the velvety surface, she fought the urge to peek inside. An engagement ring, perhaps? It seemed likely, since Mr. Cannon wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

It was the crazy, unreasonable pang of jealousy toward the unknown woman that brought her back to earth. This was insane—she should be thinking about the engagement ring on her own finger rather than worrying about the possible romantic liaisons of a perfect stranger.

Disgusted with herself, she dropped the box back into the coat pocket and carried it to him. He nodded his thanks and reached into a different pocket to remove a PDA device. “I hate this thing,” he said ruefully, “but I can’t live without it.”

Apparently his mind hadn’t been on whatever was in the box—just like hers shouldn’t be.

“Mr. Cannon, the crew is getting ready to change, so if there’s nothing else, I’ll say goodbye.”

Interest lit his eyes. “You’re going off duty?”

Dismayed by the way her body responded to his slightest signal, she moistened her lips. “Yes. Enjoy the remainder of the flight.”

She straightened and moved down the aisle to confer with the attendant who would be taking over her section. Erica walked up, wearing a frown. “Gee, that hunky Aussie is a dreamboat, Zoe, but he’s kind of boring. Although he did seem to watch you pretty closely….”

“I didn’t notice,” Zoe said lightly.

Erica looked intrigued. “If you say so. How was the married couple?”

“Still married, miraculously.” Zoe retrieved her shoulder bag from storage. It was silly, but she was the tiniest bit glad to know that Colin Cannon hadn’t hit on the vivacious, blond Erica—he wasn’t a player after all.

Not that it mattered to her.

A few minutes later, she sank into the assigned coach seat she would occupy for the six hours remaining in the flight.

She should’ve gone to sleep immediately. Her body was tired and her lower back ached. But her mind refused to shut down, not ready to turn away from the Aussie in first class whose green eyes had scoured her body with unabashed sexual interest. It was flattering…made her feel vibrant and desirable. Because as much as she was sure of Kevin’s love for her, he wasn’t exactly the passionate type. Sex ranked somewhere below fantasy football and training for his next long-distance bike race. They hadn’t slept together in weeks because of their schedules and all the wedding preparations. She’d convinced herself it was okay—it would make the honeymoon even sweeter.

But she was lonely…and Kevin’s inattentiveness had left her feeling as if she’d sprung a leak.

Before her mind spun off in a dangerous direction, she pulled out the three-ring binder that contained all the details of “Zoe and Kevin’s Wedding.” Inside were pages and pages of samples and order forms and receipts and schedules. Still to be decided was the seating arrangement at the rehearsal dinner and the reception, the music mix for the band, the decorations for the head tables, gifts for the wedding party and the marriage license.

As well as roughly one thousand other details.

From her bag she pulled her mail that she’d bound with a rubber band. Lately her box was crammed with brochures from photographers, caterers, florists and travel agencies. But scattered among the advertisements were contracts that needed to be reviewed and signed, and invoices that needed to be paid. She flipped through the envelopes and fished out a bill from the bridal shop, a reservation form for the limo service and a contract from the videographer. There were cards from friends and relatives who couldn’t make it to the wedding—she and Kevin would open those later.

She glanced at the next envelope, which had a return address of Jacksonville, Florida—something from Covington Women’s College? Then she smiled. It was probably a copy of the alumni newsletter, featuring a notice of her upcoming wedding. Grateful for a little light reading, she opened the envelope. But instead of a newsletter, she pulled out a cover letter enclosing a purple envelope that seemed distantly familiar. Intrigued, she scanned the letterhead—Dr. Michelle Alexander.

Zoe frowned. Her former college instructor?

Dear Ms. Smythe,

You were a student in my senior-level class titled “Sexual Psyche” at Covington Women’s College. You may or may not recall that one of the optional assignments in the class was for each student to record her sexual fantasies and seal them in an envelope, to be mailed to the student in ten years’ time. Enclosed you will find the envelope that you submitted, which was carefully cataloged by a numbered code for the sake of anonymity and remained sealed. It is my hope that the contents will prove to be emotionally constructive in whatever place and situation you find yourself ten years later. If you have any questions, concerns or feedback, do not hesitate to contact me.

With warm regards,

Dr. Michelle Alexander

Zoe laughed to herself. The Sexual Psyche class had been called Sex for Beginners by all the students. She remembered the class, the smothered giggles and eye-opening lectures, the confident, curvy instructor. She also remembered the confess-your-fantasies assignment, but she couldn’t recall what she’d written.

Fingering the purple envelope, Zoe was suddenly nervous. She was on the verge of getting married. Was this really the best time in her life to review what sexual desires had once stirred her soul?

2

ZOE STARED AT THE ENVELOPE holding the letter she’d written to herself ten years ago and scoffed at her fears. What was she afraid of? The purple envelope wasn’t exactly Pandora’s box—it wasn’t likely to unleash some sort of unforeseeable chain of events. Instead, she’d probably get a good laugh over her schoolgirl musings.

She glanced at the passengers sitting on either side of her—the woman to her left was awake, but reading a book. The woman to her right was juggling a sleeping toddler. With her privacy assured, Zoe slipped her finger under the flap of the envelope and pulled out two folded sheets of stationery. The handwriting was hers, neat and slanted. Pulled along by nostalgia, Zoe read the letter she’d written for her eyes only.

Dear Zoe,

It’s me—your twenty-two-year-old self writing to say that when you get this letter, I hope you have everything in our life figured out. I hope you’re married to a great guy and contemplating a family. I say this because I hope between now and then, you will have explored the world and yourself, and will be satisfied that your choices are good ones.

Dr. Alexander asked us to write down our sexual fantasies because she says that unless we know what turns us on physically, we can’t ask for it or expect it from our partners. And that we’ll never be truly fulfilled in a long-term relationship unless our partner knows and understands our innermost fantasies, no matter how outrageous they might be. She says that the strongest emotional connection comes from an intense physical connection, and a strong physical connection is the foundation for intimacy and fidelity. If someone is getting everything they need from one person, Dr. Alexander says, they’ll have no need to stray.

I like the sound of that because fidelity is very important to me. On the other hand, I wouldn’t want someone to be with me and not be completely happy…like my parents. Arguing is their only form of communication. I want to ask them sometimes why they stay together because they obviously don’t like each other. I hope they’re not together for my sake because they’re miserable, and I’m miserable when they fight.

Anyway, I haven’t had that much experience with sex. I’m not a virgin, but so far, to be honest, sex has been disappointing. Every time I’ve gone all the way with a guy, I hoped it was going to be the way I imagined sex would be—mind-blowing. Like a drug, something you can’t live without. But it never is.

Maybe it’s my fault. Because I’m outgoing and I speak my mind, I think guys assume that I want to take control. I’ve never told anyone that what I really want is to give up control. What I really want in my secret of secret places is to be tied to a bed…to be handcuffed…to be strapped down. And to be made love to six different ways.

Zoe looked up from the letter, her face heated. The words made her squirm in her seat—it must have taken a great effort for her to write them ten years ago. And if she remembered correctly, a great relief. With no small amount of trepidation, she continued reading.

It sounds dirty, which is why I’ve kept this to myself. I’m not looking for someone to mistreat me—I don’t want that kind of man in my life. But someday I hope I’ll meet the right guy to share my fantasy, someone I trust not to hurt me, someone who won’t judge me, who won’t think any less of me for wanting to explore the darker side of sex, the pleasure and the pain. Someone who knows when to stop, and when to push beyond. Someone who is also looking for that deep emotional and physical bond that Dr. Alexander described to us.

So, Zoe, wherever you are, I hope you found that guy. For both our sakes.

Zoe glanced up from the letter, her heart thudding. Her mind sifted through the internal revelations unveiled in what was supposed to be an innocent letter written by a naive college student. Instead it planted seeds of troubling thoughts. What if the naive letter writer had had more insight and wisdom than her grown-up self? She put her hand over her mouth, shaken by the prophetic words she’d written as a young woman.

“Are you okay?” the woman next to her asked kindly.

Zoe turned her head and registered that the woman was beautiful—short, spiky black hair with a pink streak and oddly colored eyes. Maybe violet? It was hard to tell in the low lighting. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“I hope that isn’t bad news,” the woman said, nodding to the letter.

Zoe hastily refolded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. “No. Just a note from an old friend, that’s all.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Is it someone you miss?”

Zoe considered the question and her mind went back to the person she’d been in college…full of optimism and adventure, determined to meet the world and people in it on her own terms, determined not to settle for less than supreme happiness and a one-of-a-kind love.

“Yes, I do miss her,” she said wistfully.

“Then maybe you should plan a little reunion.” The woman winked and turned back to her book.

It was an interesting suggestion, Zoe conceded—getting in touch with the woman she’d been ten years ago. Curious, carefree and thrill-seeking. Traveling all over the world, fearlessly sampling different cultures. Then one day she’d looked around and all of her girlfriends had paired off with men they planned to marry. Zoe’s mother began to pressure her to settle down. Someone introduced her to Kevin, and they’d hit it off.

And somewhere along the way, she’d become a paler version of herself, like a favorite shirt that had been laundered too many times, but was still serviceable enough to wear to the grocery store.

Yet before she gave in to the panic tickling her stomach, Zoe stopped. Did she still feel the same way about sex and love? Did she still entertain the same fantasies?

Yes, she realized with a sinking heart. When Kevin made love to her, she closed her eyes and imagined all the things he wasn’t doing to her.

So had she made a good choice? Had she found the right man to marry?

She visualized telling Kevin that she wanted him to tie her to the bed or to lash her down with his leather belt. He would laugh at her. Kevin was a congenial fellow whose mind didn’t go to dark places, especially where sex was concerned. He’d been scandalized when she’d once suggested they rent an X-rated movie on pay-per-view. He was a meat-and-potatoes missionary man. And since all of his intimate parts had fit hers generally well, she’d decided that bondage fantasies were for women who wanted to remain single. Forgoing her darkest desires seemed a small price to pay for dependability and friendship.

Her hand tightened around the letter. Dependability? Friendship? It sounded as if she was talking about a dog, not the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. Kevin would be her last bed partner. Was theirs a one-of-a-kind love, or were they simply good together? Were both of them simply relieved that they didn’t argue like both sets of their parents? What they had was fine…

But was it enough to bind herself to him for the rest of her life?

And why was her mind suddenly filled with the image of a pair of hooded green eyes?

COLIN REACHED THE LAST PAGE of the annual report, then realized he couldn’t remember a word of what he’d just read. He pulled a hand down his face and reread two paragraphs before giving up and closing the report.

That woman—Zoe. Did she realize that she’d hit him like a ton of bricks?

Colin laughed to himself. His mother’s Americanisms had rubbed off on him. Virginia Cannon teased him no end when one of her phrases slipped out of his mouth. And she would be intrigued to know that an American woman had captured his attention—a Southern American woman, no less. Like his mother.

Maybe it was Zoe’s rich Southern accent that captivated him, because it reminded him of his mother’s lilting, loving voice. But he’d met countless southern women on his many trips to Atlanta and none of them had affected him this way. He prided himself on being in control of his body and his mind. So when a woman hijacked his focus with a prim uniform and a handful of conversation, it was unsettling. Especially since she, too, seemed to be resisting the unexpected attraction between them.

Colin turned in his seat, but the first-class cabin was still dark and he couldn’t see past the curtain leading to coach. She was back there somewhere, wedged into a small seat among grumpy salespeople and crying babies. Had she felt the electricity between them? Was she thinking about him, too? Wondering what might’ve happened if they’d met under different circumstances…what could still happen?

He’d never joined the mile-high club; in fact, he’d never even considered it. And he was pretty damned sure that a flight attendant could get fired for doing something as illicit as having sex in the loo. But he knew he couldn’t go another minute without finding out if she was as curious about this thing between them as he was.

Colin pushed to his feet, then turned and strode down the aisle, headed for the coach cabin. He could live with rejection—but not regret.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to find her in the semidark cabin and he had no idea what he was going to say. How did one proposition someone on an airplane? Blood rushed through his ears as he scanned the rows of passengers. His pulse jumped higher when he saw her, chewing on her thumbnail, seemingly lost in thought. He stopped, noting with frustration that she was sitting in the center of several packed rows. It would be hard to get her attention without disturbing others, without making a fool out of himself.

He stopped and reconsidered. This was madness, after all, feeling so physically drawn to this woman that he was pursuing her at ten thousand meters in the air.

But then Zoe looked up and saw him, sending lust ripping through his body like an arrow. Her expression went from surprised to questioning.

He straightened and jammed his hands on his hips. At a loss, he tried to communicate to her what he was thinking by holding her gaze. Her mouth parted, her eyes softened. When after almost a minute she didn’t look away, he took a deep breath, then nodded as imperceptibly as possible toward the bay of loos in the center of the plane. She understood because she pressed her lips together.

Colin turned and made his way to one of the cubicles, acknowledging wryly that his cock was as stiff as a lad’s. He sincerely hoped that the lovely Zoe decided to join him. One way or another he would have to find release, and he’d much prefer to do it with her than without her.

ZOE SAT STOCK-STILL, afraid to move. In the midst of her musings, Colin Cannon had appeared like a mirage and made it clear that he’d come looking for her. And now he was waiting for her to join him in the lavatory. Had she been sending him vibes? How else could he have known that she was sitting in the back thinking about him?

Because he’d been sitting in the front thinking about her.

On some level she wasn’t entirely surprised. From the moment he’d boarded the plane, something unexplainable had sprung up between them. Their mouths said polite things to each other, but their bodies had been having an entirely different conversation.

And now the moment of truth. Did she dare go to him? She twisted the engagement ring on her hand, trying to plant the image of Kevin in her mind. Fidelity was still very important to her.

On the other hand, they weren’t married yet…. She hadn’t taken any vows. Kevin never had to know. She could sample this bizarre, compulsive lust that she felt for the Aussie, and it would all be over by the time they landed.

Zoe glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed him singling her out. The black-haired woman next to her was absorbed in her book. Erica sat in the row behind her, fast asleep. The cabin was still dark, but everyone would be rousing soon as they flew into daylight. It was now or never.

As if she were watching someone else, Zoe picked up her flight bag that contained a change of clothes and headed toward the row of lavatories. Her limbs were almost weak with apprehension—or was it anticipation? She might regret this terribly.

Yet somehow, she didn’t think so.

3

ZOE STARED AT THE ROW of four lavatory doors, her heart in her throat. Which one was he in?

Two of them read Vacant, so she knocked lightly and tried those first, but they were both empty. She approached the first door that read Occupied, and after a bolstering breath, rapped lightly. The sign clicked to Vacant, meaning the door had been unlocked. Zoe swallowed hard and glanced all around to make sure no one saw her going inside. And she told herself that she could still change her mind.

But even through the door she could feel his pull on her and was almost powerless to resist him. She had to find out why this man could entice her into doing things that she wouldn’t have considered mere hours ago.

She twisted the handle, pushed open the door and slipped inside.

The space was generous by airplane facilities’ standards—it was twice as big as lavatories on domestic flights. But Colin Cannon’s big body took up most of it. He leaned against the side wall studying her with those incredible green eyes. Did he wonder what kind of a woman would do this?

A woman like her, she realized. She stood rigid, holding her bag with a white-knuckled grip as she waited for him to move, to talk, to breathe. The space felt insular with the hum of the plane vibrating all around them.

He straightened and reached past her to lock the door, then took the bag and set it on a shelf, out of the way.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” she said.

“Neither have I,” he said, then lifted his hand to her cheek. “You’re beautiful.” His voice had turned low and husky. “I didn’t know if you’d come.”

“I didn’t know, either,” she admitted. “I’m still not sure why I did.”

“Then we’re equally puzzled by one another.” He lifted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers.

Zoe waited for the shock to her system, having another man’s mouth on hers, but the only shock she had was how good it felt, how sensual. He kissed her thoroughly, cupping her face with both hands and delving deep with his strong tongue. She heard a moaning sound and realized it was her. Her hands, too, seemed disembodied. They slid up his chest, across the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, unfastening any buttons they encountered.

He smoothed his hands down her back and pulled her pelvis against his. The burn of his erection through the thin fabric of their clothes flipped some kind of carnal switch in Zoe. Heat flooded her body, she became feverish. Her breasts ached for his touch, her sex throbbed. She wanted his body sliding against hers…inside her.

Her sweater and bra went first, then his tie and shirt, then her panty hose and panties, then his belt. She released his bulging sex and sucked in an appreciative breath at the size of him. When she clasped the length of him, his eyes closed and he groaned with pleasure. He fumbled in his back pocket for a wallet and pulled out a condom.

“It’s the only one I have,” he murmured. “Let’s make it last.”

Zoe rolled it on and felt her body readying itself for him…warming, opening, expanding. He kissed her again, hungrily, nipping and licking. When he caught one nipple between his teeth and clamped down, she let him know she enjoyed the flash of pleasure-pain by squeezing his cock. “Now,” she whispered.

He turned her around to face the mirror and kissed her neck while watching her reaction in the mirror. Then he removed the pins holding her hair and loosened it to lay in waves around her shoulders. “Look at you,” he said near her ear, then tugged the lobe with his teeth.

Zoe almost didn’t recognize herself. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth bruised and open. Her eyes were nearly closed. She looked wanton, sexy…and thoroughly aroused.

He cupped her heavy breasts, brown fingers against the pale globes, and twisted the tips until they were distended. Lust like she’d never experienced coursed through her body. She thought she might faint from wanting him. She undulated her hips against his erection, and wanted her skirt to be gone. But when she reached for her hem, he clasped her hands and held them over her head.

“Soon,” he murmured, “but not yet.”

Holding both her hands with one of his, he wrapped his silk tie around her wrists again and again, then fashioned a loose knot. She could’ve gotten away if she wanted to, she thought distantly, but she didn’t want to. As he held her hands against the coolness of the mirror, he worked magic on her body with the other hand, lifting her skirt and reaching around to stroke her slick folds and massage her clit. Zoe moaned and writhed against him, urging him with her body to take her. But he seemed determined to torture her with pleasure.

He worked her clit and kissed her neck, watching her all the while. His eyes, his hands, his body…God, she thought she might explode. A vibration deep in her womb was wending its way to the surface, but too slowly. She ground herself against his fingers to hasten the release and at last, a fierce orgasm claimed her. He kissed her, absorbing her cries.

Zoe was vaguely glad that one of them had the presence of mind to keep from drawing attention to their cubicle. She seemed unable to think at the moment, unable to do anything but feel…feel the numbing in her hands from the constriction of the tie, feel the edge of the sink as it cut into the front of her thighs, feel the pressure of his big body against hers. She knew the length of him would stretch her limits. She was weak with wanting him inside her.

And despite his promise to make her wait, she could tell by the clench of his hands and the set of his jaw that he, too, was nearing his breaking point. She spread her legs wider and thrust back against him, impaling herself on the head of his cock. A guttural noise escaped him, and on their next breath, he filled her completely.

Zoe’s knees buckled from the sensory overload, but she leaned into the mirror and concentrated on keeping her eyes open. She wanted to see his face while he made love to her.

He was a beautiful man. His arms were long and muscular, his chest broad and covered with light hair. His face was ruggedly handsome and surprisingly expressive. From the pleasure playing over his face, he was enjoying the sex at least half as much as she was. Pure feminine satisfaction flooded her body as she met his long strokes, contracting her internal muscles around him. Not being able to use her hands helped her focus on other parts of her body—her nipples seemed ultrasensitive, and in this position, he seemed to be hitting a sweet spot…

Zoe came again, this orgasm more sudden and more intense. He put his arm in front of her mouth and she bit down to smother her cries. He buried his face in her hair, then climaxed with a powerful contraction of his hips. His muffled groan reverberated in her ear. In that moment, she felt utterly sated.

He pulsed inside her for a long minute, allowing them both to recover. Then he gently unwound his tie from her wrists and helped to retrieve stray pieces of clothing. Zoe covered her breasts with her sweater and combed her hair back from her face with her hand. “I’d like to stay and freshen up.”

He nodded and shrugged into his dress shirt, buttoning it and tucking it in with practiced ease. “Sure thing. By the way, that was amazing,” he said matter-of-factly as he threaded his belt through the loops of his slacks.

She was staggered at how relaxed they both were, and conceded that not nearly enough oxygen had fully returned to her brain. The incident certainly qualified as mind-blowing.

He looped the wrinkled tie around his neck and fashioned a loose Windsor knot. “Can I see you again?”

Zoe blinked in surprise—she hadn’t seen that coming. She’d just assumed that he was a traveling businessman looking for a quickie. In fact, she hadn’t believed him when he’d said he’d never done this before. But no matter what his motivation or his circumstances, she couldn’t ignore her own. “No, that’s not possible. I’m—” she held up her left hand and her diamond engagement ring twinkled back “—I’m getting married in a month.”

“Ah, I see,” he said with a little smile that hinted of disappointment.

“I don’t regret what happened,” she said. “I wanted it, too. But I’m sure you understand why it has to end here.”

“I do,” he said, then winked. “I guess that’s the groom’s line, though, isn’t it?”

She winced, then nodded. Her mind flashed to the black velvet ring box in Colin’s jacket pocket, but she didn’t mention it—she wasn’t even supposed to know it was there.

“Too bad,” he said, washing his hands in the sink and taking a minute to splash water on his face. For some reason, watching him wash up somehow seemed more intimate than what they had just shared. “It would’ve been a good time,” he said, tossing the paper towels in the trash. He stopped, his hand on the doorknob, his green eyes lit with renewed cheer. “Good luck, Zoe.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling awkward for the first time since their encounter.

He started to say something, then changed his mind. His white upper teeth sank into his lower lip. “He’s a lucky bloke,” he said finally, then left and closed the door behind him.

Zoe locked the door, then leaned into the sink to face herself in the mirror. She looked as if she’d been ridden hard…and had enjoyed it. Shame mixed with remorse started a slow drip as Kevin, whose face she could barely visualize before, now seemed branded on her mind. He would feel so betrayed if he knew what she’d done…and how good it had felt.

So she would never tell him. She’d had her little fling with a man who made her knees weak and had even gotten a taste of light bondage. It was over…done. Now she could move forward with the life she and Kevin had planned together and wouldn’t have to wonder what she’d missed out on.

Can I see you again?

Moving quickly lest someone became suspicious of how long the bathroom had been occupied, she ran water in the sink and freshened up, then changed out of her uniform and into clothes that would travel well to the resort where she was staying in Sydney. Finally she rewound her hair into a thick knot at the nape of her neck.

Can I see you again?

When she emerged from the lavatory, passengers were beginning to rouse from their sleep. Light seeped into the cabin from windows that had been raised a few inches. She felt self-conscious as she made her way back to her seat, but no one seemed to know that she’d just had slam sex in the bathroom with a stranger.

Can I see you again?

Erica was awake and frowned at Zoe’s new outfit. They rarely changed clothes before leaving the plane. Zoe gave Erica a little wave that she hoped came off as casual before reclaiming her seat. But once she was settled, her gaze kept straying to the curtain that divided coach from first class.

Can I see you again?

“It wouldn’t work,” she murmured.

“Did you say something?” the funky black-haired woman sitting next to her asked.

Zoe turned. The woman’s eyes were indeed violet. How strange. Perhaps they were contact lenses. “No. I…was talking to myself.”

“Helpful habit,” the woman said with a smile. “It’s amazing what you can talk yourself into.”

“Or out of,” Zoe added ruefully.

“Careful with that one,” the woman said. “There are always plenty of people around who are more than happy to talk you out of doing things. Don’t jump on the bandwagon.”

Zoe smiled. “I’m Zoe. Is this your first trip to Australia?”

“I’m Lillian, and yes, it is. I can’t wait to experience everything. You’ve probably been here dozens of times.”

“Several,” Zoe admitted. “This is my last trip, though. I’m transferring to a domestic route so that I can be home more. I’m getting married soon.”

“Oh, how lovely.”

“Yes,” Zoe said, hoping she sounded more excited to the woman than she sounded to herself.

“So this is your last hurrah as a single woman?” her companion teased.

“Something like that,” Zoe admitted.

“And afterward, maybe you can have that reunion with your old friend who wrote the letter.”

Zoe nodded and smiled politely, but she knew that married Zoe would have to say goodbye forever to the Zoe who had written about her fantasies. Still, the letter had been the catalyst to indulging in the tryst in the lavatory. She had good memories to take home, something exciting to think about when she closed her eyes…

She did manage to doze off for a little while, and then they were landing.

“Why did you change clothes?” Erica asked when they met at the gate inside the terminal.

“I spilled red wine on my sweater,” Zoe lied, rolling her suitcase toward customs and the exit. With their airline identification, they breezed through. She didn’t see Colin Cannon, but then being a native, he would’ve gone through a different line. As they walked by baggage claim, she couldn’t resist glancing over to see if she could spot him one last time.

“Who are you looking for?” Erica asked suspiciously.

“Er…the woman who sat next to me was so nice, I thought I’d wave goodbye if I saw her.”

“Hurry, let’s get a taxi. I can’t wait to check out the resort.”

Zoe followed her friend, feeling wistful as the taxi pulled away from the curb, leaving the airport behind. She would likely never see Colin again.

Which was just as well. She sat back in her seat and chewed on her thumbnail.

Erica nodded to the binder peeking out of Zoe’s bag. “I hope you’re not going to worry about the wedding the entire time you’re here.”

“I won’t, I promise. I just need to send a few e-mails to tie up loose ends.”

“As long as you don’t change your mind about the bridesmaids’ dresses. Because I’m so looking forward to wearing what you’ve picked out. Did you say that strange color is apricot?”

Zoe winced apologetically. “My mother’s idea.”

“It’s okay. I have one of those, too. I remember how she was when I planned my wedding.”

Zoe nodded. It was as if her mother was determined that her daughter would have the wedding that she herself had always wanted. Satin and bows, lace and frippery. Which now seemed totally incongruous. Because after her encounter with Colin Cannon, all she could think about was leather and metal.

She gave herself a mental shake. Getting back into the details of the wedding would help to get her mind back where it belonged—on her groom.

Can I see you again?

Zoe forced the images of Colin from her head and concentrated on the view outside the taxi window. To her, Sydney was a cross between New York and San Francisco—bustling with people and cars, but hemmed by a breathtaking blue-and-white harbor. The resort was settled a few blocks from the epicenter of the city, in an older part of town. Its spalike atmosphere was a favorite destination for flight attendants, but the steep rates had always been a little pricey for Zoe. This was her first visit. Erica would be staying for two nights before returning to the States, but Zoe had used all her accumulated credit card points and splurged for ten days.

The lobby was soaring and lush with green plants and water features. The check-in process was smooth and quiet, their bags whisked away by white-suited bellmen.

“I’m going to need a nap before we do anything,” Erica said, yawning.

“You go ahead,” Zoe said. “The signal on my cell phone is strong. I’m going to try to reach Kevin and check e-mail. I’ll be right up.”

Erica nodded, her eyes drooping, then walked toward the elevator. Zoe moved to a quiet corner and pulled up her e-mail on her phone. She winced. Six messages from her mother, and from the subject lines, all of them had something to do with changes to the reception dinner seating chart, which Zoe was supposed to be working on.

Postponing reading them until later, she switched to phone mode and punched in Kevin’s number. She desperately needed to talk to him, but considering it was almost midnight in Atlanta, she didn’t expect him to answer. He usually went to bed early so he’d be rested for his morning workouts. When his voice-mail service kicked on, she felt a pang at the warm familiarity of his voice.

“Hi, it’s me,” she said brightly. “The flight was—” traitorous “—fine. I’m—” a big, fat cheater “—fine.” Zoe pressed her lips together, telling herself she needed to act as if everything was normal. As if she wasn’t still tender in places from being with another man, as if she wasn’t still besieged by images of them together. “I’ll call you later. Bye.” It was only after she hung up that she realized she hadn’t said that she loved him.

And the guilt that she’d been expecting finally swamped her body with the force of a flash flood. She closed her eyes against the physical pain until it ebbed, then told herself that there was nothing left to do but to live with it.

She turned to face the expansive white lobby, enjoying the peaceful chiming sounds of Aboriginal music playing overhead. Sun poured in on the gleaming floor tile and polished brass fixtures. Overhead fans stirred the branches of potted fig trees. She inhaled deeply and exhaled, feeling instantly calmer. This soothing ambience was exactly what she needed to relax and to rid her mind of one Colin Cannon.

“This is a nice surprise.”

Zoe pivoted to see the man himself standing at the check-in desk, a duffel in one hand, a briefcase in the other. His leather duster nearly touched the ground. Her mouth opened and closed as alarms sounded in her head. When the shock subsided, disbelief and anger set in.

She strode up to him, her heart racing double-time. “Mr. Cannon,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, “what happened on the plane was a one-time thing. You had no right to follow me here.”

He looked confused, then smiled. “I didn’t follow you here, Zoe. This is purely a coincidence.”

That was possible, she conceded. “Th-then you’ll have to go to another hotel.”

“That would be rather difficult,” he said.

Zoe crossed her arms. “Why?”

Colin was interrupted by a reservations employee who handed him a flat wooden box over the counter. “Your keys, Mr. Cannon. I’ll ring the bellman.”

He thanked the woman, then turned back to Zoe, taking in her belligerent stance with an amused expression. “Because…I happen to own this place.”

4

AT THE NEWS THAT SHE’D just checked in to a resort owned by the man with whom she’d gotten down and dirty in the airplane lavatory, Zoe’s mind whirled in confusion. Followed by bleeding mortification that she’d just accused Colin Cannon of stalking her.

She blinked and her mouth gaped. “I…I…”

A smile crept across his handsome face as he gestured to the incredibly lavish lobby—his lobby. “Thank you. This place renders me speechless sometimes, too. That’s why I bought it.” Then he leaned in close to her ear and murmured, “My apologies. If I’d known we were bound for the same destination, I would’ve postponed my invitation until we were in more comfortable quarters.”

Zoe swallowed hard. “Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

“Too late,” he said. “You left an indelible impression.”

So had he, she conceded. His close proximity gave her a whiff of the cologne she had smelled on his neck. And he was still wearing the silk tie that had bound her wrists, now neatly reknotted at his shirt collar. Zoe took a step backward to clear her head.

“I’m moving to another hotel,” she announced.

His face creased in disappointment. “Please don’t. It’s a big resort, our paths probably won’t even cross. Are you a regular guest?”

“No,” she said, then gave him a wry frown. “No offense, but it’s a little beyond my normal budget. But a co-worker and I are here for—” she swallowed the real reason “—a treat.”

“Ah,” he said. “A prewedding treat?”

She nodded, awash with shame.

“Then a treat you shall have,” he said with a wink. He turned back to the reservations desk. “Please arrange for Ms. Smythe and—” He looked back to Zoe. “What is your friend’s name?”

“Erica Winston.”

He nodded to the clerk. “Please arrange for Ms. Smythe and Ms. Winston to have complimentary use of our spa during their stay.”

“Very good, sir,” the woman responded.

“That’s not necessary,” Zoe said, feeling flushed all over again.

“It’s my pleasure,” Colin said, his green eyes reflecting something akin to regret. “Enjoy your stay, Zoe.” Then, with a little salute, he strode away.

She watched his broad back receding, feeling shaky, as if she had just averted disaster. She exhaled slowly and hugged herself for extra assurance that she wasn’t coming apart at the seams. Everything was fine, she told herself. The man seemed content to forget about their impromptu encounter and, in fact, seemed eager to offer inducements for her to forget, too. It was probably just another in a long line of hookups for him, she realized. He wouldn’t understand that for her, the incident had been a lapse of monumental proportions, one that would be harder to forget knowing that he, too, was staying at the resort.

On the other hand, what explanation could she give to Erica for changing hotels? They’d both been looking forward to this getaway. And now, with unlimited use of the spa…

No, she’d stay put, at least until Erica left in two days. Then she’d take stock of the situation. Like Colin said, the resort was a big place—he and she might never cross paths.

With her mind still clicking away, it was clear that the nap she had promised herself was not to be. Instead she shouldered her bag and exited the hotel, blinking in the bright sunshine. Knowing how brutal the Australian sun could be, she smeared on sunscreen and purchased a wide-brim hat at the first shop she came to. It was fall in the States, but spring had sprung here on the lower side of the equator, and it was surprisingly warm considering the proximity of the bay waters.

Zoe wandered the streets looking for eclectic jewelry stores, as she did at each travel destination, searching for beads, stones and other materials for her jewelry-making hobby. Australia was known for its amazing opals and she’d decided they would be perfect accent stones for the silver link bracelets she was making as gifts for her bridesmaids.

The task also put her mind back where it belonged—on her future, on her wedding—while she soaked up the atmosphere of the harbor city. The tang of salt rode the air, along with the sounds of the accents of the people strolling by, going about their day.

Zoe loved to catch hints of their conversation—the way the words seemed to roll together with a buoyant rhythm that told anyone listening that Australians were generally a happy and upbeat people. Greetings among friends were exuberant, backslapping events with raised voices and broad smiles. The common phrase of “no worries” summed up the people’s sunny attitude.

She walked into shops and browsed bins of trinkets. Intrigued by colorful Aboriginal clay beads, she purchased several to make something for herself at a later date. The selection of opal jewelry was extensive, as were the range of hues of the distinctive stones—from pale and milky to dark and vibrant, each alight with fiery specks of color. When she didn’t find any loose stones, however, she gave up the search for another day. Conceding to her growling stomach, Zoe bought a fish sandwich at a concession stand near Circular Quay and walked to the pier surrounding Sydney Cove to have lunch.

Sydney Harbour was one of the greatest tourist attractions in the country, although the locals also hung out there, obviously drawn to the cobalt-blue water and the buzz of activity. The famous whitewinged Sydney Opera House was in easy viewing and walking distance to her right—she had endured the long lines and toured it on a previous trip to Sydney. The Harbour Bridge ascended to her left. If she squinted, she could make out the slow-moving train of ants on the arch, high above traffic and the harbor, that were actually people braving the famous Sydney Bridge Climb.

Along the Circular Quay pier, upscale restaurants and shops amiably shared space with street vendors and picnic tables. Fat pigeons and gulls flocked at the feet of diners, poised to dive on falling crumbs. Boats of all sizes were docked at the marina—runabouts, sailboats and ferries. But many of the slips were empty on this sunny, breezy day, further evidenced by the bobbing dots on the near and far horizons.

Leaning against a white railing and slowly chewing the sandwich, Zoe detected a subtle change in her senses as they became more keen. Everything around her seemed to be in sharper focus, more vivid, more apparent. Boat horns sounded a symphony as they entered and left the harbor. Water lapped against the pier in a whispering caress. Children’s screams of laughter pierced the air.

She could blame some of the insular wooziness on jet lag and lack of sleep, but deep down, as much as she was trying to push it out of her mind, the incident on the plane with Colin Cannon had heightened her self-awareness. The birds were singing, and so was her skin where he’d touched her. The surf was pounding, and so was her pulse when she remembered the way he’d looked at her. The sky soared overhead, and so did her imagination when she dared to think about what it might be like to spend an entire night in his arms…under his tutelage.

This sense of wonder at the pure intensity that could exist between two people—she’d never felt anything like it before. It was as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes, and she couldn’t believe she’d lived this long and not known. She wasn’t a sheltered person—at least she’d never thought so. She stared at her engagement ring and acknowledged the truth—since she’d met Kevin, she’d systematically tucked in all the edges of her adventurous spirit, preparing to settle down, to raise a family, to grow old. The evolution was a natural part of growing up, wasn’t it? And it had happened so slowly, she hadn’t even noticed.

Which was why she felt so blindsided by her encounter with Colin Cannon. The incident was like catching lightning in a bottle, she decided—coming into contact with the right person at the right time, when both of them were in the right mood. Pent-up…unfulfilled…searching. Odds were that it would never happen again, not with him, not with anyone. It was a fluke.

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