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losing her strength. She was being attacked…assaulted….
    Murdered?
    She still couldn’t believe that an intruder had come here for her. This was her damned island!
    Blackness…stars…weakness…
    That awful, sickly sweet smell, closing in around her, filling her…
    She was starting to go limp in the fierce hold of her attacker.
    Suddenly the arms that held her were wrenched away. She was dimly aware of a thudding, crunching sound as a blow was thrown and connected with flesh and bone. She heard a groan, footsteps taking flight….
    All in a matter of seconds.
    â€œSit!” someone snapped at her. “I’ll be back.”
    She reached out blindly. “Ca—can’t!”
    She lacked the strength to stand, yet she couldn’t manage to tell her limbs to set her into a sitting position. She was going to fall against the unforgiving tile.
    â€œDamn it!” she heard someone say. “He’s going to get away.”
    She didn’t fall, she was swept up. She blinked furiously against the effects of the drug, trying to fight again.
    â€œDamn it, Sam, I’m trying to keep you from killing yourself!”
    Her vision started clearing. It was Adam. Right in front of her. No, holding her. She was still so dizzy. The room was spinning. No, he was walking. Carrying her. Laying her down on her bed.
    He left her for a minute and the darkness began to recede. She drank in the fresh, salt-tinged night air that whispered over the island. She tried her fingers. They moved. Her toes. They wiggled.
    There was a sensation of weight as he sat down at her side. Cold, as he pressed a washcloth rinsed in cool water over her face.
    She inhaled through the cloth and felt her temper reviving the rest of her.
    Adam was in her room—and she was stark naked.
    He lifted the cloth from her face. His eyes were burning and sharp, his features tense, yet his lips seemed to curve in a mocking smile.
    She struck out wildly, her palm swinging toward his cheek.
    â€œStop it, Sam! It’s me. Adam!”
    The Ray-Bans were gone. She could see his face clearly, if she could only focus. She blinked, making the attempt. She saw the silver glitter of his eyes against the striking, angled lines of his profile and tried to strike out again. He caught her hands, leaning over her, his weight bearing her down, preventing her from attacking him.
    â€œSam, damn it, it’s me!”
    â€œI know perfectly well who it is!” she cried out. Still struggling furiously, she managed to free a hand and tried again to strike him.
    Once again, before her blow could land, her wrist was captured.
    And she realized that she was lying naked and completely vulnerable…with Adam O’Connor not just back on her island, but lying on top of her in her bed.

3
    â€œF ine! Next time a stranger is trying to drug you, kidnap you, maybe even kill you, I’ll remember to keep my distance,” Adam said evenly. His tone was husky. Angry.
    His eyes were directly on hers, gleaming. A knife-like silver. Not giving away an iota of emotion.
    Only his voice hinted of his feelings.
    She stared at him. Not moving, not breathing. Not daring to, because the slightest motion would bring her bare flesh into closer contact with him.
    He’d aged nicely over the years. He was even more attractive in his mid-thirties than he’d been in his late twenties. His voice had deepened; his chest had broadened. Even the lines in his face gave it the character that men seemed to achieve so easily, while women battled the ravages of age with expensive creams and potions. His dark hair was longish, collar length. It was tousled now from the fight he’d put up. One dark wavy strand had fallen over his forehead, where it looked too damned good. Sexy, sensual. Very masculine. It was great hair. Very thick. She knew, because once-upon-a-very-long-time-ago, she had run her fingers through it. She was tempted to touch it right