"I—what?" He nearly choked, his cheeks heating as a desperately X-rated image of Lily's hands sliding across his bare skin blotted out logical thought.
They stood frozen for a moment that stretched like taffy, the air between them humming with tension. Alex was acutely aware of everything—the way morning light caught the gold flecks in her eyes, the barely perceptible rise and fall of her chest, the constellation of freckles across her nose that he wanted to trace with his fingertip.
Kiss her,some primal part of his brain demanded.Stop thinking and just?—
"I should..." Alex took another step back, nearly colliding with the kitchen counter. "Research. I've got research to do."
The spell broke, and Lily blinked as if coming out of a trance. "Right. Research. Very important."
"Very important," he echoed, grabbing his field notes with more force than necessary.
He made it exactly three steps toward the door before disaster struck.
Lily had turned to reach for something on the high shelf—another bottle of something from her bag—just as Alex pivoted to grab his hat from the hook by the door. The small cabin that had seemed perfectly adequate for one person suddenly felt microscopic as their bodies collided.
Alex's chest pressed against Lily's back, his arms instinctively coming up to steady her as she lost her balance. She gasped, her hands flying out to brace herself against the wall, which only served to press her more firmly against him.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Alex could feel every curve of her body aligned with his, could smell the sweet scent of her hair, could hear the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat.
"Sorry," she whispered, but she didn't step away.
"My fault," he replied, his voice rough with want.
She turned in his arms, slowly, until they were face to face. Her hands came to rest on his chest, and Alex wascertain she could feel the hammering of his heart beneath her palms.
"Alex," she breathed, and the way she said his name—soft and questioning and full of invitation—nearly undid him completely.
He was going to kiss her. Every rational thought in his head screamed at him to stop, but his body had other ideas. His hands found her waist, his head began to lower, and Lily's eyes fluttered closed in anticipation.
The shrill cry of a tropicbird outside shattered the moment like glass.
Alex jerked back as if he'd been burned, his hands dropping from her waist. "Sorry," he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth as he backed away. "This cabin barely fits one person."
Lily's eyes flew open with a coy smile. "That's okay, I don't mind the close quarters."
"Look, this is..." He ran a hand through his hair, desperate to regain some semblance of control. "This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. We're stuck here together, and proximity can mess with people's heads. Make them think they feel things that aren't real."
Lily's gaze warmed with amusement. "Calm down, doc. It was just a moment—not a proposal."
"I know that," he returned stiffly. "But this is exactly how things get messy—and I can't afford messy around a project I've waited so long to get my hands on."
"Of course," she said with a short smile. "I'm just trying to make the most out of my time here. We can be miserable together... or we can have a little fun. I don't see the harm in fun, but clearly, you have an allergy to anything that might resemble a good time. Duly noted."
"I know how to have fun... when it's appropriate."
"Appropriate fun sounds like the opposite of having fun." She tsked as if he were a dreadfully dull person but too dense to realize it. "You ought to try some unscheduled shenanigans and see how that feels. You might like it."
Appropriate fun.
The phrase rattled around his skull like a stone in an empty jar. When had he started scheduling joy like it was a dental appointment? When had "spontaneous" become a four-letter word?
He tried to summon a counterargument—some memory of cutting loose, of doing something purely for the hell of it. All he could come up with was that damn college salsa class he'd taken on a dare. Fifteen years ago. And he'd quit after three sessions because theinstructor kept telling him to "stop counting and feel the music."
You can't feel music. Music is sound waves measured in hertz.
That's what he'd told Megan when she asked why he dropped out. She'd laughed so hard she'd cried, then looked at him with something uncomfortably close to pity.
"Alex,"she'd said,"you're going to wake up at fifty and realize you rationalized yourself right out of actually living."
