Amélie didn’t smile, but she felt it—the subtle coil low in her stomach, the betraying quickening of her pulse. She lifted her glass slowly, letting the rim brush her lips, forcing his eyes to follow the movement. Qu’est-ce que tu fais ici, cowboy? If you had any idea what I was, you’d run now. Even as she thought it, though, Amélie felt the stirring of something she hadn’t ever allowed. And it confused her. She didn't wa...

They didn’t so much open the door as collide with it. It slammed shut behind them in a burst of laughter and breathless sound, mouths already tangled, hands everywhere at once. He caught her around the waist and she came with him willingly, legs bumping, hips knocking as they stumbled deeper into the house. The air still clung to them—salt, sunscreen, chlorine, heat—as though the day had refused to loosen its grip. He was...