Oh, no. I poked at it, then sagged against the door. “We’re stuck.” I’d managed to get billionaire hotelier Ambrose Langston stuck in a musty basement. I was really showing him the charm of the Windward Resort.

We headed back down.

“Everett knows we were coming this way.” Although no doubt he’d be busy trying to get the power back on.

My eyes adjusted to the gloom and my gaze sharpened on the tiny source of dim light. A small window high above my head.

I had no idea where it came out, but it was a possible way out of here. I strode over and spotted several wooden crates stacked against the wall. They’d do. I gripped one and shoved. It scraped along the concrete floor and I pushed it under the window. Grabbing the next one, I hefted it—thank God they were empty. With a grunt, I muscled it on top of the other one.

“What are you doing?” Ro asked.

“Getting us out of here.” I shoved another crate next to the others. My own impromptu set of steps.

Then I realized I was wearing a fitted dress. Crap. I glanced back at Ro. His white shirt gleamed in the darkness, but it was hard to see the rest of him.

Stay stuck in here or get out? I gripped the hem of my dress and pulled it up to mid-thigh. I stepped onto the first crate.

He cursed. “You’re going to break your neck.”

“I’ll be fine.” I climbed up onto the higher box and straightened. I touched the grimy glass and shoved.

It didn’t budge.

“Come on.” I tried again, the crate wobbling beneath me. The window didn’t open. It had probably been painted shut at some stage. I pushed again.

The crate wobbled and I lost my balance.

A cry caught in my throat as I tumbled.

Hard arms caught me. I found myself pressed against a hard chest, a large, warm palm pressed against the back of my bare thighs, and Ro’s face buried between my breasts. Hot electricity zapped through me and I gasped. That just caused me to pull in that masculine, sandalwood scent of his.

“Are you all right?” His voice was low, his warm breath fanning over my chest.

“Yes.” My voice was high and breathy.

We both went quiet, and neither of us moved.

He lowered me until our faces were close. “You’re sure?”

God, he was hard and strong, and I liked him holding me. I closed my eyes and swallowed. Get a grip, Tessa. This is Ambrose Langston. Your billionaire boss, who might tear down your hotel, and who dates supermodels.

“Yes.”

Even in the gloom, I could see his eyes were hot, turbulent. My stomach filled with heat.

Then I lost my mind.

I pressed my mouth to his and kissed him.