LITMIR.BIZ

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grasped his hand as guilty heat, because she already knew his name, seared her cheeks. “Angela Taylor...and thank you.”

      He kept hold of her hand and continued to stare, his gaze wandering languidly over her face as though they were alone, rather than surrounded by hundreds of panicked holidaymakers. The nonsensical notion to kiss him leaped into her mind and she laughed.

      “Well, we can’t stand around here all day.” She slowly pulled her trembling hand from his. “I assume you’re the man to help me rip off a roof.”

      He blinked and his smile reappeared like a breaking sun. “Absolutely.”

      He moved to stand beside her. His damp T-shirt clung to his biceps and stretched taut across his shoulders. Angela snatched her gaze toward the expectant crowd, unease rolling through her stomach. Unease because of her reaction to him. Unease that somehow or another this man had caught her interest...attracted her.

      She clapped her hands. “Okay, anyone else?”

      One by one, more men joined them until there were eight or nine of them working side by side to find a way to get the stockroom roof peeled off. Angela risked a final look in Chris’s direction. He had his back to her, gesturing toward the roof, clearly taking control of his new mission.

      She turned away. Was she seriously ogling the man when he was trying to get food and drink for everyone? Embarrassment swept through her.

      She’d concentrate on where she was needed...even if the temptation to stay near Chris burned hot inside her.

      She weaved her way back among the crowds, offering words of encouragement and reassurance to the elderly and young alike. Parents seemed calmer, cradling their children in their laps as they sat on the flat concrete roof. The area was sometimes used for barbecues and a place to sit at small bistro tables. Not today. Today, it was the only safe haven in an island of danger.

      Angela looked to the sky. It was a sheet of clear blue above them. Yesterday the temperatures rose to the low nineties. People wouldn’t be cold for long. The midday heat would be the next challenge.

      * * *

      WITH SEVERAL OF the roof tiles smashed and cleared, Chris gripped the edge of the underlay. “On my count. One, two, three.”

      He and the four men on either side of him heaved the heavy black material toward them. Their combined strength and adrenaline made easy work of what would normally have been a tough job. Chris smiled. It was like peeling back the lid of a sardine can. They’d made a four-by-four-foot hole.

      “Well, just look at that.”

      The man next to him clapped Chris on the shoulder. “It’s the equivalent of a damn candy store window to a group of sugar-hungry kids.”

      Chris laughed. “I’ll get the lady in charge. We’d better not just throw ourselves down there. No matter how much I’d like to.”

      He levered himself up and looked around for Angela. He didn’t have to look far. Even with her hair wet and dirty from the floodwater, there was no mistaking her among the crowd. Chris guessed her to be five feet five or six and with her clothes still damp and clinging to every curve of her body, there was no mistaking the woman had the figure of a catwalk model.

      Letting out a low, appreciative whistle between clenched teeth, Chris shook his head and cupped his hands around his mouth.

      “Miss Taylor? I need you.” I need you? What the hell did I say that for?

      She turned. The way she stared and the soft quirk of her eyebrow made Chris feel like an infatuated teenager. He laughed. “I mean...you’re needed over here.”

      She grinned and echoed his salute of earlier. He looked back into the stockroom before he could say or do anything else to make him look more stupid. The men around him peered over, too. The place was filled with bottled water, sodas and snacks just as she’d promised. The food and drink would bring at least some hope and serenity to a possibly explosive situation. Chris didn’t doubt that was exactly her intention.

      The distinctly feminine touch at his shoulder made him tense before he slowly turned. She wasn’t looking at him but into the hole they’d made into the stockroom.

      “Fantastic. Look at that.” Her smile was wide and a soft flush of pink darkened her cheeks. “This is what people need. This will make all the difference to morale.” She stepped back, her hand lifting from his shoulder.

      She looked at the other men. “Okay, if you and you—” she pointed to two men beside Chris “—grab my wrists and lower me down, I’ll start passing things up.”

      Was it his imagination or had she purposely dismissed him? What had the lingering hand on his back been all about? Maybe it hadn’t exactly lingered, but there had been definite contact. Contact that seared through his wet shirt and straight to his damn chest.

      He crossed his arms. What did it matter? He’d come to the Cove to nurse his wounds after the backlash of Melinda’s infidelity, not to start panting over the first female who gave him the time of day. He might have gone wild for a while after Melinda, but that was over. He was here to get his head...and heart straight.

      So why the hell couldn’t he drag his gaze from Angela’s long, lean legs as she clambered onto the stockroom roof? Or ignore the way her huge brown eyes were alight with positivity? He tightened his jaw.

      What did he care that the two men “helping her” seemed to be finding every reason known to man to touch every part of her as well as her damn wrists as they slowly lowered her into the hole?

      Tension knotted his stomach. This was neither good nor wanted. He didn’t need the stress of a woman and he didn’t need her betrayal. He moved to walk away and leave them to it when the whirr of the helicopters returned. He lifted his head. The same three were back again. This time they circled the circumference of the roof four times before hovering just above the people who watched them.

      He glanced around. Hope etched the features of every single face.

      “Wait. Lift me up. Lift me up.”

      The sound of Angela’s voice jolted him and Chris turned. With her butt on the tiles, she shimmied closer and he held out his hand. Her palm slid against his and he pulled her onto the clubhouse roof. She stood by his side. So close the soft heat of her shoulder warmed his biceps.

      She grinned. “They’ve come back. Thank God.”

      He forced his gaze away from her pretty profile and back to the helicopters. “And just in the nick of time.” He blew out a heavy breath. “I didn’t want to say anything before, but there are people shouting from trees.”

      “What?”

      He nodded toward the east. “Over there. See them? We’re the lucky ones.”

      She followed the direction of his gaze and lifted her hand to her mouth. “They have to help them. Those poor people must’ve been hanging on for hours. They’ll be terrified, hungry...exhausted.”

      There was no denying she was beautiful, but it wasn’t just that making his heart beat with the overwhelming urge to touch her. She looked strong yet fragile. As though she could take on the problems of the world but, at the same time, the wrong thing at the wrong time would break her.

      Without thinking, he slid his arm across her shoulders. “It’s going to be all right. They’ll get them.”

      She stiffened at his touch and Chris turned to stare ahead but didn’t remove his arm. It would be too obvious he suddenly felt like a leech. He didn’t want to see the revulsion or rejection in her eyes. Every fiber in his body screamed with an inexplicable protection for her.

      His past was peppered with mistakes. All of them ground in his inability to protect...

      The power of her stare bore into his temple. After a long moment, she relaxed beneath his arm. She blew out a breath. “What’s going to happen? These people are relying on me. I don’t

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