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“Just?”
“Last week.” Before I can ask more, he dips his head for a quick kiss that steals my voice. “Why did you come here?” he whispers against my lips. “What’s in Boca Raton?”
“Apart from you?” I tease.
He tenses, those powerful muscles in his chest and arms standing out. “What are you—?”
“What did you do?” I poke a finger into the middle of his chest. “Spill, Storm. Are you wanted by the police? What the hell did you do to be hiding out here?”
He stares down at me, those deep blue eyes wide. And then the strangest thing happens.
He relaxes. He goes utterly lax against me, and his eyes flutter close. I swear a ghost of a smile flits over that full mouth. “The police?”
“Why else? You broke into this house, right?”
“You mean, like you did with the house down the beach?”
My turn to stiffen with shock. “You don’t know that.”
“But I do. That’s what I was coming over to tell you last night before I found you here. The owners are already there, picking the last of their things. I saw their car and the movers’ truck arriving. I raced like hell to tell you, but you were already gone.”
My mouth is hanging open. “I don’t believe…”
Crap, I do believe him. Well, then. That’s a bit hint from fate, isn’t it? Time for me to go.
As if sensing my thoughts, he shifts onto his side and wraps both arms around me. “So why did you come here, Ray?”
Damn. “It was a random place. Florida. Never been here before in my life. Figured it was far enough.”
“Far enough for what?”
Christ, no. “I wanted a break from my family. My dad is a messed-up bastard.” Which is close enough.
“So you hopped on the first flight to anywhere? A bit extreme, isn’t it?”
Not about to tell him I hitchhiked and caught buses all the way here.
Instead I shrug, as much as I can in the circle of his arms, swallowing down bitterness. “Yep. That’s me. Extreme. Now, you.” I sneak a hand up to his cheek. “Why are you here? Why are you hiding?”
“That’s two questions.”
“Yeah, it is.” I stroke his face until his gaze locks with mine. I can’t decipher what’s going on behind his eyes right now. Anger, maybe. Frustration. Conflict.
“I’m here because I know this place. I used to come in the past, but so many years have passed nobody will think to look for me here.”
Ice trickles down my spine. “And who’s looking for you? What have you done, Storm?”
Crap. Could it be I’m lying in bed with a guy who’s in as much trouble as I am, if not more?
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” he says, and his heart is steady against my own. No telltale signs of lying. Is he that good? My hand wanders down his neck to rest on his chest again. “Relax.”
“You broke in here,” I say, testing.
“Told you, I’m housesitting.”
Still no flutter under my palm. No sweat running down his temples. “And the owners let you use this room because… What, they like you?”
“Something like that.”
