She writhed in pleasure, tossing her head back and forth, her fingers fierce in his hair. If she was setting him up for a last-second denial, she was doing a damned good job of it; Mitch wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop if she asked that of him. He felt as though he’d stumbled into some jungle river, as though he were being flung along by currents too strong to swim against.

He didn’t remember taking off his clothes, but suddenly he was naked, his flesh pressed against the strange roughness of hers. In silence she commanded his entry, in obedience and passion he complied.

They moved together in a ferocious rhythm, every straining thrust of their bodies increasing the pace until they both cried out, each consumed by the other, their flesh meeting in a final quivering arch. They fell slowly from the heights, gasping, sinking deep into the warm sand.

It took some time for Shay to coerce her lax, passion-sated muscles to lift her from that tangled blanket on the sand. When she managed to stand up, she stumbled toward the surf, into it.

The water was cold, even though it was August, and the chill of it nipped at Shay’s knees and thighs and hips as she waded farther out. Mitch was beside her in a moment and she smiled to think that he might be afraid for her.

Shivering, his lips blue with cold, he caught her upper arms in his hands. “Shay.”

She didn’t want to hear an apology. Nothing could be allowed to spoil the sweet ferocity of the minutes just past. She cupped both hands in the sea and flung salty water into Mitch’s face, laughing as he cursed, lost his balance and came up sputtering with cold and fury.

Shay held her breath and submerged herself, letting the ocean wash away the last of the sugar from her body and came up to be pulled immediately into a breathless kiss.

When that ended, Mitch lifted her into his arms, carried her back onto the shore. He lowered her to the sand, the blanket forgotten, and made slow, sweet love to her. Her cries of pleasure carried high into the blue summer sky, tangling with the coarse calls of the seabirds.

“I really have to go back,” Shay said quietly. She was dressed again, the dream was over. “Todd has a couple of buildings to show me.”

“Buildings?” Mitch, too, was fully dressed, and he sat across the RV’s tiny table from Shay, looking strangely defeated.

“I’ve decided to take the plunge and start my catering business.”

Mitch’s jaw tightened. “Oh.”

“Why does that bother you so much?” Shay asked. “Despite your caveman tactics this afternoon, you don’t give the impression of being a chauvinist.”

“I’m not a chauvinist, dammit!” Mitch snapped, looking for all the world like a wounded and outraged little boy. “We made love, Shay. We worked together. Maybe we haven’t known each other very long, but we’ve shared a lot. It hurt that you didn’t mention something that important.”