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become bolder.
    Suddenly she came alive in his arms. It was like she caught fire and wanted him to burn in the heat with her. She slid her hands up his chest and twined her arms around his neck, pressed her soft, slender body against his harder one so they were molded together. And then her mouth moved eagerly under his, her tongue stroking him, making his own sexual desire flame out of control.
    He knew that now was the time. He ought to interrupt. Make her tell him about Moreau…
    The hell with Moreau! Bryce thought as he wedged Caitlin’s body firmly between his thighs.
     
    Caitlin could hear the bell ringing as distinctly as if it were real. The sound penetrated the sensual haze that seemed to envelop them both in spite of the frenzied response Bryce evoked from her. Hadn’t she always known the right man would make her hear bells?
    But it was the feel of his arousal against her abdomen that startled Caitlin into realizing what she was doing: allowing a virtual stranger to embrace her. She felt like she was burning up from head to toe, like she was sizzling inside, and yet she wedged her hands against Bryce’s chest and pulled back. As their lips separated, she heard the light, clanging sound once more.
    Still breathing heavily, she asked, “Did you hear that?”
    “It’s just a bell someone on the yacht is ringing,” he whispered hoarsely.
    Then it was real, not something Bryce made her hear, Caitlin realized in disappointment, though the argumentative side of her thought that steamy kiss should have made her hear a whole symphony of bells. But when Bryce lowered his head to hers, she tried to back off. Something told her that if she didn’t stop now, she wouldn’t be able to. He wasn’t ready to free her, however, for he kept her pinned to his chest and tried to kiss her again.
    Suddenly anxious to be free of this man she didn’t even know, Caitlin almost panicked. She could see Bryce’s determined expression in the moonlight. It hardened his handsome face. Now, instead of desire, it was fear that coursed through her. Bryce was so strong, he could do anything to her and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. Pushing at him, she ducked her head and somehow managed to pull free of his arms.
    Swallowing hard, she backed off and croaked, “Um, I should go. I’ve got to check on Babs.”
    He seemed to pull himself together with a struggle. And as he relaxed, his expression softened, once more tantalizing her, lit as it was by a full Caribbean moon.
    “Nothing like getting carried away,” Bryce murmured, stepping toward her. It was all Caitlin could do to stand there instead of turning and running away. The instinct grew stronger when he took her arm, but all he did was guide her in the direction from which they’d come. “I’ll walk you to your cottage.”
    Taking a deep breath, Caitlin tried to relax but found that she was, as usual, a bundle of nerves in the company of this man who held such a strong attraction for her. She told herself Bryce was no threat—he’d merely been carried away, just as she had—but all of the assurances in the world weren’t going to work at the moment. She felt nervous and ecstatic, quivery and giddy, drunk on the moonlight.
    By the time they got to her door, she could no longer read Bryce’s expression, for his face was in shadow. It left her in doubt as to his intentions. Awkwardly holding out her hand, she smiled tremulously. “Well, good-bye.”
    Bryce enclosed her hand in his. “Not good-bye, Caitlin O’Connor. We’ll see each other again,” he said enigmatically. “Perhaps as soon as tomorrow.”
    She watched him walk away until he disappeared from sight. Turning to go in, a white envelope with her name on it tacked to the door caught her attention. Taking it, Caitlin quietly entered the dark interior, not wanting to disturb Babs, who must have been long asleep. Wondering who would have left her a message, she wandered into the bathroom and closed the door