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to the window to detail the view when she turned, the sudden movement clashing with his own. She landed flat against his chest, and he steadied her without forethought. And just like that, she was in his arms.
    Nonsensical objections spun through his head, but his only focus was on the curve of her lips. Their eyes met through the thickness of her lashes, and she denied him his only chance of salvation by not fleeing. If anything, when her gaze dropped to his mouth, she reeled him in. Her fingertips traced his biceps with the gentleness of a lover, and any chance he held for resistance hit the floor. But dammit, he was not going to go there.
    At least, not until those fingertips touched his cheek and lingered. Then her thumb dragged across his bottom lip.
    “You’re in dangerous territory,” he managed to mutter. Right before he fucking kissed her. And it wasn’t some old granny peck, either. It was a full-fledged possession, his mouth devouring hers. He half hoped she’d slap him, but the soft whimpers she produced didn’t sound like any objection he’d ever heard.
    He dropped his hands from her upper arms and cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks gently. Possessively. Her lips couldn’t have been any softer. Nothing sweeter existed than the slide of her tongue and the fit of her body or the way she moved it against him.
    And then, inexplicably, it was over. By the time her absence registered, she was across the room and out the door, leaving him stunned and empty and alone.

Chapter Five
    Z oe turned a blind corner, no real concept of where she was headed beyond anywhere else . Her lips still stung with the sweet torture of Ryder’s kiss. Her fingertips tingled. Her everything tingled. She stopped and leaned against the wall in a failed attempt to catch her breath.
    “Can’t say I’ve seen many women run from him.”
    Zoe jerked upright and sought the source of the voice. The hall opened into a common area, and she hadn’t noticed the older woman on the far side. She held a bottle of glass cleaner and a cloth, but didn’t seem concerned with either.
    “Excuse me?” Zoe asked.
    “Usually it’s Mr. Nash trying to head off in the opposite direction. Oh, he’s nice about it, but you can always see the disappointment in her face when a woman fails to catch his eye.”
    Speechless for the second time that day, Zoe could only stare. Streaks of gray in the woman’s dark hair suggested she was older, and while her face remained neutral, the twinkle in her eye was evident even with the distance between them. Clearly she knew Ryder, which left Zoe feeling outnumbered even though they were alone.
    “Oh, honey, I’m talking out of turn again. I’m Aggie Miller, and you can call me Aggie.”
    “Michelle,” Zoe said. “Michelle Elliot.” Michelle was her middle name, and Elliot her mother’s maiden name. The adopted pseudonym wasn’t far from the truth, but still, the words felt unnatural. Already she felt guilty for lying about who she was. Ryder surely had been right when he said no one on the island would look twice at her. What difference did her first name make? It wasn’t as if she’d taken up residence on a rock in the Potomac within view of the Lincoln Memorial. She was in the Caribbean, for heaven’s sake.
    “Michelle?” Aggie frowned. “I could have sworn you were someone else. Must be this heat. Us old folks don’t preserve well when it’s a hundred and ten in the shade.”
    “Your ability to exaggerate hasn’t suffered, though, has it?”
    Zoe jumped at Ryder’s voice so close to her ear—could the man not make noise when he walked?—while Aggie smiled at his teasing tone.
    “It’s not a degree over seventy in here, Aggie, and you know it.”
    “I also know your friend Michelle here is the spitting image of—”
    “She’s here to finish the interior design, not listen to you go on about how much she resembles your former neighbor’s aunt’s cousin’s sister’s