were the same, as well as her lightly sunburned cheeks, and her lips—her soft, full, pink lips that made his body tighten in memory.
He was suddenly slammed with a montage of images from the night they'd spent together. Every one of his senses came alive. He could smell the orange blossoms in her hair when he kissed her neck. He could taste the heat of her mouth. He could feel her breasts swell under his hands as he licked her nipples into peaks of pleasure. And the way she'd come apart under him, on top of him—he could still hear her soft cries of uninhibited pleasure.
Damn!
His breath came so fast he started to feel dizzy.
He'd wished a thousand times for people to come back from the dead, but it had never happened—until now.
"Drew," she said finally, biting down on her bottom lip, as she tried to come up with something else to say.
The silence went on far too long. He'd seen her in his dreams so many times he had to tell himself that he wasn't dreaming now. But he was holding her arm. He could feel the heat of her body. He could hear her voice. She wasn't a ghost.
"I don't understand," he said, shaking his head in confusion. "I thought you were dead. Everyone did."
"So you heard about the fire on the boat?" she asked slowly.
"Heard about it? I saw it. I was on the dock when the explosion almost knocked me off my feet." He could still hear the thunderous roar in his head and taste the terror that had run through him as he and Juan had sailed toward the destruction.
"You were on the dock?" Her eyes widened in surprise. "I thought you were on your way to the airport."
"I had a few more hours before my flight. I was down there looking for you."
She shook her head. "I didn't know."
He stared back at her. "How did you survive? The boat was blown to bits."
"I jumped off before it blew up." She licked her lips. "I swam away, and eventually I made it to one of the small islands nearby. I was there for several days before anyone found me."
Her words were logical, but there was something about her story that sounded practiced.
"What about the other people on board? Did they make it?"
"No, I don't think so."
He didn't understand why she was acting so guarded. There was fear in her eyes, but she hadn't been afraid of him on the island. Why was she now? Why wasn't she smiling, laughing, telling him about the adventure she'd had, the miraculous escape from death?
"Ria, what's going on?"
"Could you let go of my arm? You're hurting me."
He hesitated, then released his grip. "Sorry. Why did you run away from me just now? You heard me call your name."
"I didn't want to talk to you. It's—awkward."
"Why?"
"Because it is." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "We had a one-night thing a long time ago. I don't know what you want me to say."
There were a lot of things he wanted her to say, and none of them were coming out of her mouth. "Your explanation of your escape doesn't make sense to me. Juan took me out to the scene of the explosion. There were dozens of people looking for you and your passenger. I was one of them. I was in the water searching for you. I don't see how you could have swum away."
Her face whitened. "I didn't know you were part of the search. Why were you out there?"
"Because I wanted to save your life."
"Oh. Well, that was generous of you."
"That's it?"
"I didn't know you looked for me. I'm touched."
"I waited on the island for two days. I know search parties went out in boats to the neighboring islands. They came back empty."
"I was on a really small island. It was very far away. I'm sure most people wouldn't have thought I could swim that far. But I have strong survival instincts."
He gave her a long look. She avoided his eyes. "I don't believe you," he said. "Why are you lying to me?"
She stiffened. "I don't care if you believe me. You asked me what happened, and I told you. So we're done."
"Hold on," he said forcefully. "We are not done. I thought I saw you on Fisherman's
He was suddenly slammed with a montage of images from the night they'd spent together. Every one of his senses came alive. He could smell the orange blossoms in her hair when he kissed her neck. He could taste the heat of her mouth. He could feel her breasts swell under his hands as he licked her nipples into peaks of pleasure. And the way she'd come apart under him, on top of him—he could still hear her soft cries of uninhibited pleasure.
Damn!
His breath came so fast he started to feel dizzy.
He'd wished a thousand times for people to come back from the dead, but it had never happened—until now.
"Drew," she said finally, biting down on her bottom lip, as she tried to come up with something else to say.
The silence went on far too long. He'd seen her in his dreams so many times he had to tell himself that he wasn't dreaming now. But he was holding her arm. He could feel the heat of her body. He could hear her voice. She wasn't a ghost.
"I don't understand," he said, shaking his head in confusion. "I thought you were dead. Everyone did."
"So you heard about the fire on the boat?" she asked slowly.
"Heard about it? I saw it. I was on the dock when the explosion almost knocked me off my feet." He could still hear the thunderous roar in his head and taste the terror that had run through him as he and Juan had sailed toward the destruction.
"You were on the dock?" Her eyes widened in surprise. "I thought you were on your way to the airport."
"I had a few more hours before my flight. I was down there looking for you."
She shook her head. "I didn't know."
He stared back at her. "How did you survive? The boat was blown to bits."
"I jumped off before it blew up." She licked her lips. "I swam away, and eventually I made it to one of the small islands nearby. I was there for several days before anyone found me."
Her words were logical, but there was something about her story that sounded practiced.
"What about the other people on board? Did they make it?"
"No, I don't think so."
He didn't understand why she was acting so guarded. There was fear in her eyes, but she hadn't been afraid of him on the island. Why was she now? Why wasn't she smiling, laughing, telling him about the adventure she'd had, the miraculous escape from death?
"Ria, what's going on?"
"Could you let go of my arm? You're hurting me."
He hesitated, then released his grip. "Sorry. Why did you run away from me just now? You heard me call your name."
"I didn't want to talk to you. It's—awkward."
"Why?"
"Because it is." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "We had a one-night thing a long time ago. I don't know what you want me to say."
There were a lot of things he wanted her to say, and none of them were coming out of her mouth. "Your explanation of your escape doesn't make sense to me. Juan took me out to the scene of the explosion. There were dozens of people looking for you and your passenger. I was one of them. I was in the water searching for you. I don't see how you could have swum away."
Her face whitened. "I didn't know you were part of the search. Why were you out there?"
"Because I wanted to save your life."
"Oh. Well, that was generous of you."
"That's it?"
"I didn't know you looked for me. I'm touched."
"I waited on the island for two days. I know search parties went out in boats to the neighboring islands. They came back empty."
"I was on a really small island. It was very far away. I'm sure most people wouldn't have thought I could swim that far. But I have strong survival instincts."
He gave her a long look. She avoided his eyes. "I don't believe you," he said. "Why are you lying to me?"
She stiffened. "I don't care if you believe me. You asked me what happened, and I told you. So we're done."
"Hold on," he said forcefully. "We are not done. I thought I saw you on Fisherman's
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