Breeze off the Ocean Read Online Free PDF Page B

side entrance into the motel lobby, which was lavishly decorated in a south-seas motif, past the curious stares of the two men behind the reception desk, and up the curving stairway. As she mounted the last step, Micki barely had time to register the fact that the stairs opened onto what appeared to be a short crosswalk that connected two sections of the motel for, without pausing, Wolf turned right along the short crosswalk to where it connected with a long hallway. At the junction he turned left and strode along the hallway to the very end. The only difference between the door he unlocked and all the others that faced each other along the hall was the absence of a number.
    The door opened into a fair-sized living room, but what caught Micki’s attention, and her breath, was a large picture window on the far wall. From that height the window gave a panoramic view of beachfront and ocean. Without a word Micki entered the deliciously cool room and crossed the plush bronze carpeting to stare out the window. Micki was not unlike numerous other people as to the hypnotic effect the movement of the ocean had on the emotions. But Wolf’s quiet voice jerked her out of her mesmeric state.
    “Would you like a drink?”
    The arched look she threw him drew his soft mocking laughter.
    “A soft drink?” he chided. “Iced tea? Perrier?”
    “Do you have lime?”
    “Yes.”
    “Perrier with lime then, please.”
    Micki watched him as he went around the waist-high wooden bookshelves that divided the living room from the kitchen. While he went about the business of getting the drinks, she made a quick inventory of him. He had changed, matured, as she had herself and the change was heart stopping. He had been good-looking at thirty. Now, at thirty-six, life had left its stamp on him.
    The square, determined jawline now proclaimed iron control. His golden tan skin stretched shiny and smooth over his long straight nose, his high cheekbones, and the angular planes of his face. The silver-gray eyes, arched over by thick, dark brows, now held a calculating sharpness. He wore his dark brown hair short in back, but its wavy thickness was completely intact. And his six-foot-plus frame, never thick, had pared down to the lean, sinewy look of the predator whose name he bore. One would not call him merely good-looking now. There were any number of adjectives one might apply, ranging from devastating to dangerous. One might even add slightly cruel-looking, but never merely good-looking.
    Micki caught herself following his every move, a breathless sort of excitement clutching her throat at the sheer masculine look of him. Don’t be an idiot, she told herself harshly. Play it cool. Play it safe. He’s trouble, pure unadulterated trouble, and no one knows it better than you.
    Casting her eyes away in search of something more worthy of her appraisal, she fastened on the living room. Masculine to the point of Spartan, Micki was surprised to find she really liked the effect the warm earth tones of bronze, brown, and gold, with a splash of green here and there  that lent contrasting  color to the room. He probably didn’t have a thing to do with the decor, she decided disparagingly. I’ll bet every room in the motel is decorated in the same way.
    “Like it?”
    His quiet voice, startlingly close to her ear, made her jump. His next words brought a tinge of pink to her cheeks. “I decorated it myself.” He cocked his head to one side as his eyes roamed the room. “Personally, I think I did a damned good job.”
    “Oh, I’m sure it’s perfectly suitable”—Micki waved her hand carelessly—”for a man.”
    “You’ve grown up.” The simple statement was issued as he handed her a drink. “Grown more beautiful too.” The rider was accompanied by that disquieting, sensuous smile. He lifted his glass to her in a mock salute and Micki’s brows arched at the amber-colored liquid it contained.
    “A little too hot for the hard stuff in the