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island? How could she hide from the sexiest man on earth, and more to the point, how was she going to hide from her own desires?
    Carly's mind buzzed with unanswered questions as she paced the sandy path in front of the cabin hours later. Talk about a dumb move. And she'd walked, no fallen, right into it.
    Yeah, but what a kiss!
    "Shut up."
    She didn't need to be reminded. The whole melt in your mouth, erotic sensation had been branded in full Technicolor detail into her mind, and on her lips. Mechanically, she traced her swollen lips and her eyelids fluttered closed. But she couldn't blank out the memories, or the feel and taste of his lips on hers, his hands on her body—or her reaction. That searing heat had permeated her soul, setting her on fire for the first time in her life.
    Why now? Why him?
    Her eyes snapped open. This had to stop. Right now. She wasn't going to go down that track. Not on your life. No way.
    Snatching up her laptop, she stabbed at the on button and the machine whirred into life. She began typing. “Work is important,” she muttered aloud as if it would obliterate every other thought.
    Some hope! Perhaps if she said it enough, she'd eventually believe it. Determined, Carly battened down the hatches and set to work.
    * * * *
    "Don't you ever learn?” The moment Marco's sharp retort tore into her fluttering concentration, the pile of papers she'd been working on scattered to the sand along with her dismal struggle to forget he existed.
    She turned around sharply and the laptop wobbled. She made a grab for it, but not before Marco reacted and their fingers linked, resting on the computer screen. Carly's eyes locked with his, drugged into immobility.
    "You said you'd relax,” he chastised, taking the computer from her and placing it with care on the wooden table.
    "I'm doing some work, but I am relaxing. See, I'm sitting,” she tried to defend herself.
    He gave her a withering gaze. “Since when did working, even with a lap top at the beach, become relaxing?"
    "You don't understand. I've so much to do. There's a contract I've a chance at. It would mean..."
    "Yes, it would mean what? That you make more money, that you are a success."
    Carly prickled with annoyance at the derision she heard in his voice. “What's so wrong with that?"
    "Money is not the road to happiness."
    "How the heck would you know? Unless you were born with a rich daddy."
    But Marco said nothing and Carly gave a satisfied snort. “Don't you tell me what is or isn't important. You weren't the one who had to miss most of school to look after a mother who couldn't cope."
    "No I wasn't."
    "Work is for me. It's mine alone. I've done the babysitting, caring for my siblings, working two jobs so we had food in the house when my mother couldn't manage. What's the saying,” she snapped, “been there, done that. Yep, that's me. Done it all. But now, work and my success, which let me tell you, I've worked damned hard for, is mine and mine alone. No one else is responsible for it."
    "Bravo, bravo.” Marco began clapping, which surprised Carly into silence. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she managed to speak.
    "I beg your pardon."
    "No you don't. You don't beg anything off anyone. I can see that."
    "You can?"
    " Si ."
    Carly searched his face for a fraction of ridicule or insincerity, but found nothing. He was serious and his gaze steadfast.
    "Apart from our little deal here, you do what you want and the heck with anyone else."
    True, but hearing it on his lips didn't make it sound very nice and a flush of heat flooded her cheeks.
    "Come on, it's exercise time. Your genie is determined to give you your every wish."
    Grabbing her hand, he pulled her toward the beach. She didn't resist. Couldn't even if she wanted to, which she didn't because the instant his fingers locked with hers all thoughts of work evaporated.
    Subdued, Carly walked beside him along the sloping sand where the fine grains squelched through her toes,