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'Yes.'

As if to illustrate the point, his own phone chose that moment to beep with an incoming text message. He raised an eyebrow at the irony, and Ginger was aware of an intense moment of shared amusement and connection before he turned away to read his text, frowning as he tapped a hasty reply, then returned his attention to his work.

Thirsty and unsettled, and still with a long way to go, she took her bag, laptop and confidential papers, before manoeuvring out from behind the table to head for the on-train shop. Having missed lunch, she chose a chilled smoothie to drink, and selected an apple, before making her way back to the carriage. As she approached her seat, the train jolted, and she gave a cry of surprise as she missed her footing. Instantly, a hand was there to steady her. Firm and protective, masculine fingers closed on the bare skin of her arm, sending what felt like several million volts zinging through every nerve-ending in her body. She gasped in shock, unable to prevent herself looking at him, the answering awareness in his grey eyes blatant.

Realising his fingers were still holding her, setting every atom of her being thrumming with sensation, Ginger moved away, breaking the unsettling contact. 'Thanks.' She hastened back behind her table with a distinct lack of elegance.

'No problem,' the man repeated, a frown on his face.

Conscious of the prickle of desire that continued to pulse through her, Ginger sipped her tangy cranberry and raspberry smoothie, and tried to re-focus her attention on her presentation. Reaching for her apple, she felt the man's gaze on her but she studiously tried to ignore him. She took a bite of the crisp, juicy fruit, wishing the train would hurry up and speed her to London.

Cameron's frown deepened. He'd lost all concentration and motivation. First he had found himself listening to the woman's smoky voice when she'd taken her call, hearing her annoyance at whatever news had been imparted, but impressed with her handling of what he presumed was a disgruntled secretary. Then her husky apology to him, followed by the sympathetic and amused smile when his text had arrived, had tightened his stomach—and other notable places. He'd sucked in a breath when she'd stood up to get a drink, finding her taller and even more deliciously curvaceous than he had anticipated, but the charge of electricity that had shot through him like a lightning bolt when he had instinctively reached out to steady her had really unnerved him. From the look on her face she had felt the connection, too. And now he was meant to sit here while she ate that apple? He gritted his teeth, watching as her pink tongue tip peeped out to wipe away the succulent juice glistening on her lips, experiencing a raging desire to taste her. Hell! The sooner he got off this train the better!

The
skies opened as the train approached London, the build-up of atmospheric pressure resulting in a spectacular thunderstorm, with lightning streaking over the capital's rooftops, ominous black clouds darkening the early evening sky. The static electricity that seemed to be crackling across the aisle between her and the man, however, continued to sizzle. Thankful to have arrived, Ginger struggled to gather her belongings, and lost no time escaping the carriage while he was still engaged in extracting his bag from the overhead locker. Hastening down the platform, Ginger crossed the concourse towards the exit and searched for a taxi.

There weren't any.

'Damn it!'

This was all she needed. She still felt on edge after the unnerving encounter on the train, and removing herself from the man's disturbing presence had done little to minimise the effect he'd had on her. She felt a flicker of regret that she would never see him again, but all her focus had to be on her patients and her responsibility to them, her need to make this trip a success.

'Just do what you've come here to do and get home,' she instructed herself, cursing her lack of protective covering as the rain continued unabated.

Feeling increasingly limp and bedraggled, Ginger walked away from the station, hoping she would have better luck away from the growing queues of people exiting the station. Out on one of the busy side streets, she spotted a vacant taxi and flagged it down, charging for the door and bundling herself inside, nearly banging her head as the opposite door opened and someone else rushed in, threatening to steal her ride.

'Hey!' she complained.

'I don't believe this!'

The throaty growl warned her, and she looked up to encounter a familiar, but unimpressed, steel-grey gaze. 'You!' Oh, help, she thought she had seen the last of him.

'Are you following me?'

The ego of the man! 'Don't flatter yourself. Perhaps you're following me.'

'You've got a nerve. This is my taxi.' Dripping wet hair plastered to his head, he scowled at her with an absence of his previous humour.

'I think you'll find the driver pulled over for me. And I was inside first.' A falsely sweet smile fixed on her face she sat down and closed the door. 'A gentleman would give in gracefully.'

He stared at her, his expression intense, heating her blood and trapping the air in her lungs. 'That's a bit sexist, isn't it? Anyway, what makes you think I'm a gentleman?'

Ginger swallowed. Nothing whatever, if truth be told. She'd decided right off he was more than a tad dangerous and nothing had dispelled that impression. A tense silence stretched between them.

'Are you folks going anywhere or not?' The taxi driver turned to address them, his frustration clear. 'Make up your minds.'

'The City Park Hotel,' they said in unison.

Ginger stared in amazement. 'You're joking?'

'I'm afraid not.' A slow smile played at his sexily pouting mouth. 'Looks like we're sharing and neither of us will have to decide to be gentlemanly—or ladylike—and give in.'

Hearing the taxi driver chuckle, Ginger sat back on the seat and maintained a stony silence, far too aware of the imposing male presence beside her. Fortunately, it was not a long drive, and although the streets were busy, the traffic was moving. She was wet, tired and not a little frazzled from the muggy heat that had sapped everyone's energy for the last three weeks and which the storm appeared to be doing little to dispel.

The next problem arose over paying for the taxi, the driver beaming as they each stuck a high-value note in his hand, determined not to be outdone. Fuming, Ginger carried her things through the front entrance of the small but comfortable hotel, and stalked to the far end of the reception desk, away from her tormentor, to register.

'Just the one night, please.' She smiled at the clerk after giving her name. 'There should be a booking for me.'

'Yes, I have it here. Please, fill in the slip. Would you like some help with your bags?'

'No, I'm fine, thanks.'

Grateful that this was not some large and expensive hotel that would have made her feel out of place, Ginger accepted her key card and turned around, smothering a groan when she saw her nemesis heading for the lifts at the same time as herself. The sooner she was away from, him the better, she decided, conscious of the woodsy fragrance of warm male as the lift doors opened and he stepped inside behind her, the small space confining them in far-too-close proximity.

'Which floor?' he asked with resignation.

'Fourth, please.'

A small sigh escaped as he pressed the button on the panel and the doors closed. 'Figures.'

'What does that mean?' Her eyes narrowing, she speared him with a look as the lift began a slow climb upwards.

'Just that it's my floor, too. We seem to be stuck with each other.'

She wished he had chosen a different expression as the words were barely out of his mouth when the lift gave a shudder and ground to a halt, the main light going out, trapping them together in semi-darkness.

'Oh, please. Not this!' Ginger exclaimed.

Her companion swore pithily. She knew just how he felt. Tamping down her concern, she watched as he pressed the alarm button, then picked up the emergency phone to alert whoever answered that there was a fault.

'They think it's to do with the lightning. Probably a power surge or something.' With another sigh, he hung up the receiver. 'They'll have us out as soon as they can.'

'Thank goodness for that.'

Muttering grimly, she sank down to sit on the floor, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. In the confined space, and with their assorted belongings, there wasn't a lot of room. A shiver of apprehension rippled through her. Given the exhilarating sports she indulged in during her rare free time, it seemed pathetic to be spooked by this experience, but she was.

'Scared?' He pushed a bag out of the way then sat down across from her, leaning back against the opposite wall.

'Of course not,' she scoffed, then, in the glow from the emergency lights, she noticed the thread of anxiety on his face. 'A bit. You?'

His smile was self-deprecating. 'Being shut in a lift is not my idea of fun.'

'Or mine.' She smiled back, impressed he could admit it and not play the macho tough guy. 'Claustrophobic?'

'Not often but...'

The lift gave a faint judder and they stared at each other in wary silence.

'We need to do something to take our minds off it,' Ginger decided briskly.

'Good idea.' His voice dropped, sounding huskier and more intimate. 'Any suggestions?'

Ginger sucked in a ragged breath. She hoped he wasn't thinking what she was thinking. Not that she should be thinking it herself, but he really was the most devilishly sexy man she'd ever seen! And his mouth was enough to tempt a saint. Forcing herself to banish increasingly erotic thoughts, she shifted uncomfortably and tried to think of something less dangerous.

'My name's Ginger O'Neill, by the way.'

'Cameron Kincaid.'

She was relieved he didn't reach across and offer to shake hands because she didn't think touching him again was a good idea. 'What do you do?'

'For a living?'

'Mmm.'

'What do you think?' he teased, stretching long, denim-clad legs out in front of him.

OK, she could play this game. She paused a moment, regarding him speculatively. 'I think you're a hit man.'

'A hit man?' Laughter rumbled from his chest, the rich sound of it swirling a wave of awareness through her. 'Why a hit man?'

'I don't know. Dark, dangerous, a bit intimidating.'

'Am I?'

He unnerved the hell out of her. 'What about me?'

'You're not intimidating.' Even in the dim light she could see the mischief in his eyes. 'Although the guy on the train who tried to chat you up might have other ideas about that.'

Ginger couldn't help laughing, too. 'I meant, what do you think I do for a living?'

'Undercover spy?'

'Of course not!'

'TV presenter?'

'Nope.'

His gaze assessed her, a look of heated consideration on his face. 'Lingerie model?'

'No way!'

'Pity!'

Warmth flushed her cheeks, embarrassment bringing an edge of chastisement to her voice. 'Cameron.'

Ginger had no illusions about her looks. She would never be a raving beauty, still less a svelte, reed-thin model who looked great in anything. However, she was comfortable with her natural body shape, her curves. And her hectic work schedule, combined with sport when the opportunity allowed, kept her fit and healthy. Daily, she saw the results of far too many tragic attempts to conform to a supposed desirable norm in modern society to ever get dragged down that road herself. Cameron's evident male appreciation made her pulse race, especially when she recalled the frankly sexual way he had looked at her on the train. What she didn't know was what, if anything, to do about it. She couldn't lose sight of her reason for being in London.

Cameron regretted embarrassing Ginger. He would never normally have said anything so provocative, especially to a complete stranger. She probably thought him a complete pervert now, but he seemed to act out of character whenever she was near him. Ginger pushed all his buttons...many of them long forgotten and presumed to no longer be in full working order. He was trying to think of a way to rescue their easy banter when the emergency phone rang and he rose to his feet to answer it, grateful for the reprieve.

'Hello?'

'This is Station Officer Woods from the local fire service. You folks all right? How many of you are there in the lift?'

'Two. We're doing OK.' In the dim light, Cameron sent Ginger a reassuring smile. 'You getting us out of here?'

'As soon as we can. We'd prefer to carefully lower the lift car down, but the mechanism has seized solid, so that isn't going to work this time. You've come to rest about three feet lower than the third floor. Once we're sure the brake is secure and everything is safe, we'll open the doors and bring you out that way. Won't be long now.'

'Thanks.'

Spirits lifted by the news, he relayed the details to Ginger. Sure enough, it wasn't long before there were noises outside and the doors were forced open, flooding them with light. A couple of firefighters grinned down at them.

'How are you doing?'

'We're glad to see you.' Cameron turned to check on Ginger, helping her to her feet.

She swiftly released his hand and stepped away. 'I'm all right.'

'Can you manage, or do you want us to fetch a ladder?' one of the firefighters asked.

'We'll manage.' Ginger's response was immediate, and he imagined she didn't want to linger in here any longer than he did.

Cameron passed their assorted belongings out, and then gestured Ginger forward. 'You go first and I can help you.'

'Thanks.'

Two firefighters took her hands and Cameron gave her a boost, being granted a tantalising flash of luscious creamy thighs and lacy lavender panties. It had a terrible effect on his already wayward libido. Hell! His mind started wondering if her bra matched. He'd love to find out. Love even more to peel it off and... Stop it! Getting himself in check, he vaulted out of the lift, to be greeted by a concerned hotel manager hovering behind the fire crew.