DANE SINCLAIR
"DANE!" Marissa's voice wasn't coming from inside the room. Dane searched the grayish haze enveloping the hall. His heart squeezed in his chest. Where is she?
"Dane? I'm four doors down on the left. Help!"
What the hell was she doing there?
He'd have to yell at her later for not staying in her room—not that it would do much good.
Dane wrapped one towel over his mouth and felt his way along the wall. The haze thickened into dense smoke.
Staying as close to the floor as possible, he wiggled on his belly until he came face-to-face with Marissa. Relief made his bones feel rubbery. He pushed the towel from his mouth. "Are you okay, princess?"
"Yes, thank you. Are you all right?"
"I'm terrific."
"Dane, can you get us out of here?"
"I hope so. Here." He tucked the other wet towel around her face, covering her mouth. "I'll turn around. You hold on to my ankle, okay? We've got to make it to the staircase at the end of this hall."
She nodded.
He scooted around and waited until her slim hand grasped his ankle. Conscious of the delicate feel of her fingers, afraid she might let go, Dane scooted as fast as he dared. The emergency exit sign glowed a welcoming red at the other end of the hall.
Smells of singed fabric and burnt wood accompanied the cloying smoke. Dane coughed and felt Marissa's grasp tighten on his ankle. "I'm okay. Don't worry. We're almost there."
The smoke dissipated as they neared the exit door to the stairway. Finally, they made it. Dane stood and helped up Marissa. Black grit smudged her face and her hair looked like she'd stuck her finger in an electrical socket.
The green dress had been replaced by a long white T-shirt with "Kiss Me, You Fool" emblazoned in big purple letters on the front. He resisted the urge to follow the shirt's advice.
For some reason, the idea of kissing her offered him a sort of primal reassurance.
Oh man, I'm losing it.
"Dane?"
Her voice trembled, and he realized she must be scared to death.
"Let's get out of here." He pushed the bar on the exit door.
It wouldn't open.
Dane shoved hard with his hands then used his shoulder for a battering ram. The door wouldn't budge. He slumped against it.
"What's wrong?"
His gut clenched when he heard the fear threaded into her words.
"It's just being stubborn." He looked at her. She was cradling the orange purse like it was a sleeping child. It jerked in her arms and Dane swore it barked.
He blinked away the weird sight, then glanced down the hall. Smoke crept toward them. Using an elevator was out of the question and trying to get to the other stairwell would put them too near the fire.
"Crap!" He smacked the door with the palm of his hand. It swung open. He wasn't going to question the whims of fate. "Let's go!"
He ushered Marissa through the door and they hurried down the five flights of stairs. When they got to the lobby, two firemen and a paramedic spotted them stumbling into the entryway. In seconds, they were rushed out of the building.
Fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances crowded the two-lane driveway in front of the hotel. Dazed people in varying states of undress milled about the parking lot. Dane led Marissa to a black Mercedes and lifted her to the hood.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I believe that was more excitement than I was prepared for." She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture struck Dane as vulnerable and needy. Ignoring the voice of reason telling him it was not a good idea to touch Marissa,
Dane pushed aside the purse in her lap, and gathered her into his arms. She snuggled into his embrace, placing her head against his shoulder and her arms around his rib cage.
She smelled like smoke, but her hair and skin were softer than rose petals.
"I should've added hugs to the list," she murmured. "This is quite wonderful."
Her sigh of contentment whispered across his chest. Dane resisted the urge to stroke her backside. He might do something stupid like cup her bottom and pull her closer. He was already between her legs. The thin cotton fabric of his boxers was the only barrier between him and Marissa. If she wiggled the wrong way, he was in big trouble.
She eased away from him. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For this." She slid her arms from around his waist and cupped his face. "I appreciate you breaking your rules to comfort me."
Dane cleared his throat. "Uh, well, I enjoyed it." Heat singed his face. "I mean—that is—you're welcome."
She laughed. Dane's gaze was drawn to the fullness of her lips. They were dangerous, those lips. Even more so when curved into a smile. He was so tempted by that luscious mouth. Just a taste. What would one tiny taste hurt? He leaned forward, knowing his gaze reflected his intentions, enjoying the surprised anticipation in Marissa's eyes.
The purse barked.
Dane blinked. Marissa's face was turned toward him, her eyes wide, her mouth forming a cute little "o." He hastily stepped out of the embrace.
"Your purse is yapping." The handbag wriggled and writhed next to Marissa's hip.
"Oh, dear!" She unzipped the purse and removed a tiny, brown-and-black ball of hair. The pink bow on its head vibrated as it yipped at Dane.
"Isn't she precious? Do you want to pet her?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I'm not a big fan of animals. They stink and drool and mess up your stuff."
"I love animals. I was never allowed to have one, you know." She showed him the gold tag dangling from a faux diamond collar. "I can't make out her name."
He looked at the noisy hairball. "Who the hell paints a dog's toenails?"
"I think that shade of pink is very charming."
"I take it she's the reason you weren't in your room?" Dane couldn't keep the disapproval out of his voice.
"I heard her barking when I came out to see what was going on. It seemed like everyone else was gone. I-I should've waited for you, Dane. I'm sorry."
He really wished she'd stop apologizing when she was wrong. Her sincere remorse made it difficult for him to maintain his righteous anger. Lorraine would not have apologized to the King of England. He'd learned that arguing with his ex-wife was like trying to change the color of the sun.
Marissa cooed to the puppy and let its slimy little tongue lick her face. He couldn't believe she'd left the relative safety of her room to rescue a powder puff with an attitude.
He should—should spank her, but damned if he didn't admire her spunk. "Princess, you need to learn to rely on me. I'm your bodyguard, remember?"
"Yes, I remember." Her eyelashes fluttered down. "You're taking the job rather seriously, aren't you? I didn't expect quite so much...body."