The Flyboy's Temptation. Kimberly Meter Van

first bite was nothing short of exquisite. Hope did the same, actually groaning with pleasure as she chewed. At the sound, J.T.’s overactive imagination was only too happy to supply alternate ways to make her moan. Cut it out, Carmichael. Eat your beans. And whatever you do, don’t dwell on the fact that you haven’t stopped thinking about that damn pink-heart bra covering those sweet breasts.

      He actually choked a little, attracting Hope’s attention, but he betrayed nothing that would give away the thoughts running like dirty monkeys through his mind.

      “Juan said it will take a day to find a truck to take us to Comitán, but in the meantime we can stay at the Ecolodge. He assured us that the accommodations are very good. I told him as long as it has a bed and a bathroom, I’m grateful.”

      “Now that we’re not jumping off cliffs and dodging bullets, I can take a moment to appreciate the natural beauty of this place,” she said, as if they were just vacationing Americans.

      Juan reappeared with an eager-to-please grin and gestured to them. “Your room is ready,” he said, adding helpfully, “Honeymoon suite.”

      “Oh!” Hope’s eyes widened, immediately looking to J.T. for backup, but he was actually glad for the single room. Although the risk was smaller with an obviously tourism-oriented village, he figured there was safety in numbers. Particularly for a beautiful redhead with legs for days.

      The harsh truth was that human trafficking was alive and well in Mexico, and the sexy scientist would certainly turn heads.

      “That’ll be fine,” he said, shocking Hope with his agreement.

      “What are you doing?” she whispered. “I think I can afford to spring for two rooms.”

      “That’s not the point. Safety in numbers. We’re not in Idaho.”

      His meaning sank in and Hope nodded with dawning understanding. “That’ll be very nice, Juan,” she said, giving him a few American dollars from her pack. “Please show us to our room. I’m ready for a bath and a soft bed.”

      Juan led them to the Ecolodge and J.T. was suitably impressed with how clean and resort-like the accommodations were. Thank God for Americans’ need for comfort.

      They walked into the honeymoon suite and immediately they both centered on the huge bed dominating the room with the gauzy mosquito net draped over it.

      It was Hope who spoke first. “We’re adults. I think we’re capable of sharing a bed without dissolving into teenage fits of giggles and awkward silence,” she said, though he got the distinct impression she wasn’t saying it for only his benefit.

      “All I’ve got on my mind is sleep,” he drawled with practiced nonchalance, but couldn’t help but add with a cheeky grin, “However, I’m not opposed to cuddling.”

      Hope immediately scowled even as her cheeks flushed. “There will be no cuddling,” she told him. “We need to keep things professional.”

      “Do you always live your life by so many rules?” he asked, curious to get a peek inside that brainy head of hers. “Or do you ever do anything a little off the rails for fun?”

      “I have plenty of fun,” she retorted stiffly. “I just don’t see the value in muddying a business relationship with momentary pleasure. That’s the problem with people today—they immediately jump into bed with someone before considering the full consequence.”

      “Sometimes you just have to go with the moment,” he said with a shrug. “See where it’ll take you.”

      “I know exactly where it’ll take me,” she said with a disapproving stare that could rival a Catholic-school nun’s. “Which is exactly why I’m not going to succumb to something as ephemeral as what can be perceived as attraction.”

      “There you go throwing around scientific facts again. I don’t care what your lab partners have told you—that ain’t sexy.”

      “Good.” Hope firmed her lips as if she didn’t want to explain herself, but prepared to do so, anyway. “Shared intense experiences can create a false sense of attraction that is often misconstrued as something deeper,” she said, lifting her chin.

      “So you keep saying,” he said. “Care to put your theory to the test?”

      Now why’d you go and poke the bear? The reasonable section of his brain was reminding him that pushing the sexy scientist beyond her comfort zone was a bad idea. But he rarely listened to anything coming out of that part of his brain, so why start now?

      Maybe it was a shorted-out fuse or maybe it was the circumstance, but Hope, standing there, chin lifted, eyes flashing and damp hair still dripping, was doing something dirty to his thought process.

      She’d felt pretty damn perfect in his arms under the waterfall. Every rounded curve and soft valley had pressed nicely against everything that was hard on him, and he was hungry for a little more of that sassy redhead.

      And he didn’t really care what was prompting it.

      Be it science or otherwise.

      “Wh-what are you doing?” she stammered, her eyes widening as he walked slowly toward her. Backing away, she tried protesting, “And it’s not a theory—it’s a proven scientific fact. Adrenaline can create a false attraction that’s difficult to—” She stopped abruptly when her back hit the wall and a tiny gasp escaped her mouth.

      “So prove it,” he said in a low tone, trapping her within the space of his arms. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re adorable when you’re speechless?” J.T. brushed a kiss across her slightly open lips. “And damn near irresistible?”

      “Wh-why are you doing this?” she managed to ask in a breathy tone that was more anticipatory than frightened and made his groin tighten. “We agreed to keep things professional.”

      “Yes, but as you can plainly see, things have changed significantly since we struck that bargain. And now it might be time to renegotiate.”

      He knew he ought to knock it off, and in truth, he’d started this just to mess with her, but now that he was in her space, he had lust rockets going off in his brain and he wasn’t ready to stop.

      “And what makes you think I’m open to negotiating?” she asked, trembling, her chin lifting.

      “Darlin’, if you don’t stop looking at me like I’m your next meal, all that we’ll be negotiating is where we’re going to seal the deal,” he said, unable to stop from leaning in, tasting her lips, wanting more. She groaned and opened her mouth to him, which was like tossing gasoline on a spark. Their tongues tangled and danced, sliding against each another. He slid his hands down to grab her wrists and pinned them to the wall, holding her in place as he continued to plunder her mouth.