Charmed and Dangerous by Lori Wilde

cradled her in the crook of his arm and stared down into her face. In repose, she was especially beautiful, no worry lines furrowing her brow, no tension about her lips. A wisp of blonde hair curled against her cheekbone. He studied the curve of her chin, the sweet shape of her mouth, the slope of her cheek.
    He had no idea what possessed him. Perhaps it was the fairy tale myth of the sleeping damsel brought to life by a kiss. Perhaps it was a desperate maneuver spurred by the guilt and fear he was determined to deny. Perhaps it was simply gut instinct.
    He lowered his head and kissed her.
    The minute his lips touched hers, she responded. Her mouth softened, grew warmer and her eyelashes fluttered lightly.
    He felt her tongue gently probe his lips and she murmured a soft sound that turned him inside out.
    Now that she had responded, he knew he should break the kiss, pull away, but she shifted into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer.
    Ah, hell, he was just a man.
    She tasted of heat and honey and heaven. She moved her lips against his, drinking him in. He heard his own heartbeat in his ears thumping loud and solid.
    Stop this. Now.
    But somehow the tables had turned and she was the one doing the kissing, giving him a momentous taste of her femininity. Her scent made him dizzy with desire.
    This was so wrong on so many levels. He tried to pull back, but she held on like a cockleburr.
    “Maddie,” he mumbled around her kisses, “are you awake?”
    She didn’t answer; she just kept kissing him.
    He gently shook her shoulders.
    She continued pressing her lips against his chin, his cheek, his nose, wherever her mouth landed. Her eyes were closed, her response totally automatic. Even though she was technically conscious, she was still wandering in a foggy, mental never-never land.
    “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”
    She nuzzled his neck. She smelled like Christmas morning, full of wonder and surprise.
    Stop thinking like this, he commanded himself.
    “Mmm,” she murmured.
    “Wake up.”
    She licked his throat, her hot, wicked tongue scaring the living daylights out of him. How much damage had that coconut done to the pleasure center of her brain. Had it somehow flipped on her sexual switch?
    He gulped and cautiously ran his fingers over her head in search of a bump. She purred like a kitten and arched her back into him. He found a small knot just above her left ear.
    Ho boy. What now?
    He tried to disentangle himself and ease away. It was difficult, considering he wanted nothing more than to kiss her right back, but he wasn’t the kind of guy who would exploit the situation, no matter how tempting. He liked his women to know exactly what they were doing when he made love to them.
    “Come on,” he coaxed. “That’s enough of that. No more kissing. Wake up now.” Gently he slapped her cheeks, hoping to rouse her to full waking consciousness.
    Without warning, Maddie sat bolt upright, doubled her fists and punched him squarely in the solar plexus.
    Peyton didn’t stop until they were several miles away from Dead Man’s Cove. He parked the dune buggy not far from the Rum Point ferry landing, and then he turned to clamp a hand over Cassie’s wrist.
    “What in bloody hell just happened back there?” he yelled.
    “I don’t know.” Cassie wasn’t lying. When she’d heard Maddie cry out her name she had been as surprised and confused as Peyton. How on earth had her sister managed to track her to Grand Cayman?
    And when David had come running from the coconut grove with his gun drawn, well, her heart had just about stopped.
    Undoubtedly, David and Maddie would have misinterpreted the wedding. They probably thought she loved Shriver and had decided to become Bonnie to his Clyde. Not that she could blame them from drawing those conclusions. The evidence was pretty damning.
    As unsettling as their appearance was, she was really glad they’d shown up when they did, otherwise, she would be Mrs.