She whipped around to face him. "Is everyone here mad? Ridiculous names for planes. Picking me up when I was happy by myself. The local seducer, I suppose, bringing me to the beach at night as if I'm some easy —"
She squealed as his arms locked around her shoulders, squashing her against his chest.
"If you think I'm the local seducer," he muttered, "let's see if I can fulfill your expectations."
One hand pushed into her hair, fingertips pressed to her scalp. The other raised her chin. His mouth branded hers. Sirens went off in her head. Pulsing red stars blurred her vision.
Shock twisted with anger, underlain with a shivery feeling she couldn't identify.
Her palm cracked across his cheek.
Rubbing his face, Cameron eyed her. "Boy oh boy, are my seducing skills ever rusty."
"They won't improve practicing on me. And my only expectation of you is that you'll fly me safely out of here." Cristi bunched her hand over her stinging palm. If she were any match for him in height, she'd shove him into the sea, face down.
Even if that face did possess the cheekiest pair of chocolate eyes ever to look her over. Not even if. Because.
Because she was not in the being looked over market. Never again did she want to be chatted up, taken for a midnight stroll on a dreamy beach. Falling for all the clichés of seduction on the Queensland island where she'd met her ex-husband, she'd later realized that tropical islands tinkered with a person's perception of reality.
She and Cam eyeballed each other, a taut silence sizzling between them. If she didn't get away, the tension was going to take her knees from under her. And then he'd have to carry her …