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things.” She gave a jittery laugh. “Wild and unpredictable, that’s me. It drives my family and friends nuts.”
    Mitch wondered if she heard what he did in her voice. Uncertainty. Fear. A woman trying to convince herself of something. “Well, control yourself when you’re alone on the island. I’d hate to find out something bad happened to you.”
    An image flashed to mind of her standing naked at the ocean’s edge, a silhouette, waves lapping at her feet.
    On impulse, Mitch leaned forward, then just as quickly pulled back. He thought of the contract with the show that forbade him from cozying up to competitors.
    Thunder rumbled.
    He thought of the lights from the resort casting a hazy glow on her slick, wet body.
    His heart bounced haphazardly against his chest.
    “To hell with the rules.” Mitch leaned toward her again.
    “What?”
    “Nothing.” Misjudging the location of her mouth, his lips brushed the tip of her nose instead. It reminded him of eighth grade, when the girl he’d loved to distraction turned her head at the crucial moment, landing his tongue in her ear. “Sorry,” Mitch muttered.
    “That’s okay,” she answered softly.
    He gave it another shot, and this time hit his target.

Chapter Five
    Claire couldn’t remember when anything had felt as good as Mitch’s mouth on hers. At first it was little more than a silky whisk of lips. Then warm, thick tension twisted inside her, and she allowed him to deepen the kiss. He cupped her face in his palms, and Claire shifted to wrap her arms around his neck.
    When he finally broke away from her, she had to remind herself to breathe. I’ll tell him about James and end this here and now. “Name your ideal woman,” she murmured instead, sliding her hands through his hair.
    “Tall and slender.” He kissed her again. “Impulsive.”
    She laughed, flattered by his observations. “You’re playing it safe. Tell me what she looks like.”
    “She looks like you.”
    “No fair.”
    “It doesn’t matter what she looks like,” Mitch said.
    “You’re not getting out of this.”
    He touched her damp head. “Her hair is short and wavy.”
    “Go on.”
    He released an exasperated breath. “Okay. Brunette. Eyes dark, skin brown.”
    Claire thought of the coloring she’d inherited from both of her Irish parents: red hair, green eyes, skin easily burned by the sun. The exact opposite of what he’d described. She’d already lent credence to his theory about men and women and dishonesty by not telling him she was engaged. What was one more little indiscretion? “I thought you said you didn’t see me?”
    “You’re joking.”
    “Nope. People tell me I’m very exotic looking. Guess it’s my Latin heritage.”
    “But your name’s O’Malley.”
    “Oh, that. My father is Irish. The Latin blood comes from my mother,” Claire lied. She tried out her sexiest Mae West impression. “I inherited her dark looks along with her hourglass hips and buxom chest.”
    “You forget. I’ve seen you…and felt you naked. Not that I’m complaining. Buxom isn’t my thing.”
    His hands moved down her back. Claire was acutely conscious of the fact that she wore nothing beneath Mitch’s T-shirt and shorts, and suddenly afraid of what the two of them had started. She’d never intended her first taste of recklessness to turn into a feast.
    “Mitch,” she said, easing away from him. “We really shouldn’t be doing this. We both have a lot to lose.”
    “Didn’t you say you were famous for being wild?”
    Thunder rattled the windows. Wind creaked in the rafters. “Yes…I said that.”
    “Don’t change now. Be wild with me.”
    She caught her lower lip between her teeth, afraid of what he implied, afraid of the emotions churning inside her. Desire. Temptation. Fear. A dash of irritation.
    “I like you, Aphrodite, and I think you like me.”
    “I like my hairdresser, Raoul, too, but you won’t catch me crawling into bed with him.”
    Claire had been