“I have plenty.” He cradled her tearstained face between his hands and brushed at the wetness lingering on her cheeks with his thumbs. “Feel better?”

For several long seconds she simply looked at him with an unreadable expression and he wished like hell he knew what she was thinking.

Finally she jerked her head in a nod. “Better.” Then she grimaced. “But I know for sure I’m not looking better. I must be a total mess.”

“You look beautiful.”

A watery laugh huffed from her lips. “That’s very sweet, but I know what I look like when I cry. Blotchy skin, red nose, swollen eyes. It ain’t pretty.”

“You’re right. It’s beautiful.” He leaned down and lightly kissed her lips. “I can’t wait to get you alone in our hotel room so I can show you just how beautiful.”

Another huff of laughter. “I’m hideous. With the way I look, you cannot possibly be turned on.”

“Yet this,” he lightly bumped her with the obvious bulge in his jeans, “suggests I am.”

“Good heavens.” She swiped beneath her eyes with the hanky again. “Are you always this horny?”

His gaze rested on hers, all vestiges of amusement gone, and he shook his head. “No. Just with you. Only you.”

Her lips trembled and with no small amount of alarm he saw her eyes puddling up again. “Okay, that’s it for you, Miss Waterworks. I’m getting you to the hotel. Now. Before I have to dig another hanky out of my backpack.”

Thirty minutes later they walked down the hallway toward their room at the Machu Picchu Sanctuary Lodge, the hotel perched right next to the ruins. Kayla had had her own room reserved, but they’d cancelled the reservation when checking in as they only needed one. And by God, he couldn’t wait much longer to get to it. And judging by the way she rubbed herself against him while he tried to unlock the damn door, neither could she.

When he finally closed the door behind them, they dropped their backpacks and fell on each other as if they were starved and had suddenly been offered a feast.

“Hope your heart isn’t set on slow and easy.” He yanked her sweatshirt over her head with a lack of finesse that probably should have appalled him.

“Do I look like I want slow and easy?” she asked, jerking his T-shirt from his jeans with the same haste he’d exhibited. With her eyes, darkened with arousal, steady on his, she flicked open the button on his jeans then lowered the zipper. Wrapping her fingers around his straining erection, she said, “This morning you told me to ‘hold that thought’ and I’ve held it all day. Now I want to see what you intend to do about it. And I want to see it hard and fast. Any complaints?”

“Hell, no.” Nothing not to love about a woman who wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted. And even better when he wanted the same thing.

Amidst much kissing and panting and groping and laughing and digging through backpacks for condoms, they tugged off boots and jeans and underwear then tumbled onto the bed. Settling himself between her splayed thighs, he wasted no time giving her what she wanted, what they both wanted-hard and fast. After a wild, furious ride that left them spent, he lifted her arms above her head, entwined their fingers, and looked into her slumberous eyes. And saw everything he’d ever wanted.

“You do hard and fast very well,” she murmured.

“So do you. For my encore performance, how do you feel about sharing a nice, hot bath in our very own indoor bathroom?”

Her eyes widened. “The fact that you made me forget, for even one second, let alone long enough to make love, that such a luxury was within reach is a true testament to your appeal and skill.”

He waggled his brows. “Wait ’til you see what I can do in a tubful of soapy water.”

Ten minutes later, he reclined in the tub with Kayla nestled between his spread legs, her back pressed to his chest, her temple against his chin. Her hands rested on his thighs while his fingers gently glided over her abdomen. Wisps of fragrant steam curled up from the water, filling the room with the fragrance of the hotel’s orchid-scented bubble bath.

“I’m going to smell like flowers,” he said, smoothing his hands over her breasts.

“Is that a problem?”

“I can stand it if you can. But it’s not the most…masculine of scents.”

She exhaled a long sigh filled with unmistakable pleasure. “Believe me, you don’t have anything to worry about in the masculinity department.”

“Glad you’re pleased.” He brushed a kiss over her temple, inhaling her unique scent. Which reminded him…

“You know, I’ve never told you about my breakthrough. Would you like to hear about it?”

He felt her stiffen in his arms. “No.” The sharp word echoed in the room, then she laughed. “I mean, it’s not necessary-”

He touched his finger to her lips, cutting off her words. “I know, you think it’ll be a yawn-fest of chemistry mumbo-jumbo, but once you hear what this formula can do, I guarantee you won’t be bored.”

Holding her in his arms, he told her everything the formula could do. The anti-aging benefits. The aphrodisiac qualities. That there was nothing on the market like it. The research he’d conducted and a simplified version of the chemical process used to produce the formula’s extraordinary effects. Which led to him telling her about how the cosmetics companies had hounded him to the point where, encouraged by the magazine article, he’d escaped to Peru. To get away. To decide what was best for his future, because the formula was his future.

When he finished, he realized she hadn’t said a word through his entire recitation, or even moved.

“Hey,” he said with a quiet laugh, craning his neck to kiss her cheek. “Did I bore you to sleep?”

She shook her head. “No,” she replied, her voice a hoarse whisper. “I…I heard every word you said. It sounds like an incredible product.”

“It is. Which is why I need to make the right decisions, and make them soon. Before all the buzz and interest wanes. Because, providing I choose wisely and trust the right people, my future will be financially set.”

“Yes. It…it’s always important to trust the right people.”

“And after everything’s fallen into place, the first order of business is sending my parents on a much-deserved vacation.” He laughed. “Maybe I’ll send them to Machu Picchu.”

Instead of laughing with him, she sat up and turned around to face him. There was something in her eyes, something bleak, but before he could question her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Like she meant it. With an urgency that felt like desperation. Which was fine by him.

By the time she let him come up for air, his head was spinning.

“Make love to me, Brett,” she whispered, peppering his jaw with fevered kisses. “Now. Please.”

He was only too happy to comply. Then, and twice more throughout the evening before they finally fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

When he awoke the next morning, he reached out for her. But instead of finding her warm body, he found only an empty space. Eyes still closed, a smile quirked his lips. Probably the princess was enjoying the indoor plumbing.

After a few minutes passed without any sound coming from the bathroom, he called out “Kayla?”

Only more silence greeted him.

Pushing up onto his elbow, he blinked against the early-morning sunshine slanting through the windows. He was about to call her name again when his gaze fell on the pillow where she’d slept next to him.

And stared at an envelope bearing his name.

He stilled, then his gaze shifted around the room.

All traces of her were gone.

Her backpack, her clothes that had lain scattered across the floor. The lotion she’d set on the nightstand.

His gaze jerked back to the envelope, and a sick feeling gripped him, his every instinct screaming that he wasn’t going to like what he read. As if in a trance, he reached for the envelope. Unfolded the letter. Read her words.

When Brett finished, his hand fisted, crumpling the paper, which he then heaved across the room. After the wadded paper hit the wall, it fell to the floor.

Where it joined his shattered heart.

21

KAYLA SAT in the stretch limo next to Meg and adjusted her sister’s voluminous bridal veil. Their mother sat across from them, blotting her eyes which had sprung a leak the minute she’d seen Meg in her wedding gown. Cindy was practicing deep breathing to stave off the motion sickness she suffered along with morning sickness. Meg had threatened to sue her if she hurled in the limo and Kayla wasn’t sure that Meg was kidding. After all the exhausting preparations that had gone into this wedding, by God, no one, preggers or not, better have the nerve to barf.

Well, after today, Bridezilla would be married and, with any luck, after a two-week honeymoon in Hawaii, Meg would revert back to being merely a type A personality, as opposed to insanely type-A plus.

“Are you all right, Kayla?” her mom asked, peering at her through watery eyes. “You haven’t seemed like yourself lately, dear. Not since you returned from South America. Oh, I hope you didn’t pick up one of those viruses you read about in the paper.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Kayla lied. She was actually the exact opposite of fine, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Certainly not here and now. Maybe after the wedding was over, but really what was there to say? Girl met perfect boy with whom she fell madly, passionately in love. Girl was lying idiot and lost perfect boy. Girl now wallowing in lonely misery of her own making.

Because she had absolutely lost him.

She’d left him in that hotel room with that letter exactly one month ago. While her common sense had told her she’d never hear from him again, her heart…her foolish, head-over-heels-in-love heart had continued to hold on to a thread of hope that he’d understand. Forgive her. Still want her in spite of what she’d written to him.

But as the days had turned into weeks, her heart had slowly crumbled, turning to dust. Of course he didn’t understand. Of course he didn’t forgive her.

Of course he didn’t still want her.

Why would he? He could have any woman he wanted. For a short, magical time, she was the one he’d wanted. But that time had passed, and she needed to move on.

But, good God, it was so difficult to do so when every time she thought of him it hurt to breathe. And she thought about him all the time.

Of course, the wedding preparations had kept her busy for the last miserable month-very helpful since she didn’t have anything else to occupy her time or thoughts. After today, she wouldn’t even have the Great Bridal Diversion to distract her any longer. No, she’d just have lots of free time. Free time with nothing to do but think about Brett.

“You know, there’s going to be a lot of eligible men at the wedding.” Her mother gave her an encouraging nod. “You might find Mr. Right amongst Robert’s scads of single lawyer friends.”

“Just double-check with me before you agree to date any of them,” Meg said. “There are a few who have out-of-state girlfriends they conveniently forget to mention when they’re not around.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Kayla said, turning to look out the tinted window at the busy Manhattan street, “but I’m not looking.”

“Which is exactly when you find Mr. Right,” her mom said in her mother-knows-best voice.

Too late. Found him. Lost him. Can we please move on?

“Well, next week, you and Cindy and I will go shoe-shopping together,” Mom said. “That’ll cheer you up.”

“Don’t wanna go shoe-shopping,” Cindy roused herself to say. “Wanna sleep. Wanna not barf.”

“We all want you to not barf,” Meg informed her in a lawyerly voice that no doubt wrung confessions from hardened criminals. “In fact, I forbid you to barf.”

Kayla forced a smile for her mother’s benefit. “Shoe-shopping sounds…” Exhausting. And like a total waste of time. Given her situation, she couldn’t afford to splurge on footwear she didn’t need. “…like fun.”

The limo stopped at a light and Kayla saw Delriccio’s bakery on the corner. Just something else that had gone wrong lately. Every time she’d visited the bakery this past week they’d been completely sold out of her favorite hand-dipped double chocolate chunk biscotti. Jeez. On top of being utterly miserable, she was going through biscotti withdrawal. Of course, being sold out of the double chocolate chunk was probably a good thing, since her Vera Wang maid-of-honor gown was feeling a tad snug, thanks to all the pity-party biscotti she’d consumed during the last month.