Saved By Their One-Night Baby. Louisa George

adventure, actually.’ Her eyes lit up, her dark brown irises dilating a little. Whatever she was going to do in Marseille, she was certainly looking forward to it.

       Floor Four

      ‘Ah, yes. How did it go? Freedom, adventure, excitement?’

      ‘Oh! You heard me?’ She pressed her lips together and chuckled again.

       Floor Five

      He nodded. ‘It sounds intriguing. Have you just been released from prison or something?’

      Her hand hovered over her mouth. ‘I can see how it could have sounded like that. Yes, I’m a mysterious, elusive thief who’s just escaped from gaol.’

      ‘If you were elusive you wouldn’t be in gaol, or telling me about it.’ She was good value, that was for sure. A woman who didn’t take herself too seriously. A delicious distraction.

      ‘Good point—Oh!’ The elevator jerked sharply and she grabbed his arm to steady herself. There was a weird thumping sound. The gate rattled. A bump. Another jerk. Then...nothing. No sound. No movement. Nothing.

       Floor Six

      Kind of. Maybe? Who knew? Just an elevator. Breathe.

      Her hand was still on his arm and he realised he didn’t want her to let go, not just yet. She turned her face up to him, eyes still lit by excitement. ‘A power outage? Must be the storm. It happens. In France.’

      ‘It happens everywhere.’ So much for reliable electricity. And why she was excited by this he couldn’t fathom.

      ‘At least the light is still on, that’s something.’ But her smile faded as the bulb flickered and fizzed and died. ‘Wait, wait...damn.’

      Was it him or was it hard to breathe right now?

      ‘Hang on.’ He slid his phone out of his pocket and flicked on the torch. An eerie glow lit the tiny space and he fought back the memories that still walked through his dreams.

      Broken walls, bare wires, the weight and the pain.

      Her grip on his arm was a little tighter now. Maybe she had a thing about lifts. He needed to show her that it would be fine. He covered her hand with his and looked into her eyes, trying to ignore the little fizz of electricity that shot over his skin at that slight touch. Geez, what would his body’s reaction be to something more intense, like kissing her? Getting naked?

      And that was such an inappropriate thought that he let go of her hand. ‘It’s going to be okay, we just need to get it going again.’

      All would be fine. He hammered a fist on the number eleven button. Then on the gate. Then back to the eleven. Eight. One.

      ‘Hey, are you all right?’ She touched his back, making him pause.

      Not wanting to look too deep inside himself, he busied himself with pressing the red security button. ‘I’m fine.’

      ‘Sure. Me too. I love getting stuck in lifts.’

      ‘We’re not stuck.’

      ‘Okay. I love getting not stuck with a man who wants to not rescue me. Too many nots.’ She put her hand to the back of her neck and moved her head from side to side, as if soothing the knots there too.

      ‘No one’s answering, I don’t think the help button is working. There’s usually a phone somewhere.’ He stabbed at a metal plate on the wall. It swung open, revealing a loose wire hanging over a shelf where a phone had once been. Little beads of sweat pricked the back of his neck.

      ‘No phone. Tant pis. I’ll use mine. Call the manager. Bring your light over here so I can see.’ She tapped her phone. Twice. Two little lines appeared on her forehead. ‘No signal. Looks like we’ll just have to wait. I’m sure it won’t be long.’ She slid to the floor and pulled him to sit next to her, but not before he’d put his phone in the metal box where the real phone should have been. A shaft of pale light hit the far corner and the rest of the elevator was shadows. ‘By the way, my name is Claire.’

      ‘Ethan.’

      ‘Pleased to meet you, Ethan. I’m a...’ She grinned and bit her bottom lip. ‘What am I, if I’m not a thief? What could I be? I always wanted to be a singer in a rock band, but I can’t sing a note. Or a ribbon acrobat, but I’m not keen on heights. Who should I be today?’ She thought for a moment. ‘I know, I’m a princess of a small principality. I have wealth beyond measure but I work endlessly to help people less fortunate than me. You?’

      ‘I’m not a princess, no.’

      That sparkling laugh again. Heat suffused his skin. He’d never found a woman’s laughter particularly sexy before but hers had a direct line to his groin. ‘Play the game, Ethan. Come on. You don’t know me at all so you can pretend, make something up, be anything you want to be. How would I ever know the truth? Let your imagination wander. Hmm... I know, you’re a dashing knight who likes to drive racing cars. Very fast. Very rich. From...somewhere exotic. You have that look about you. From...?’

      ‘England, actually.’

      ‘No. Play the game. How about Monte Carlo? Somewhere fabulously rich where they won’t let you live unless you have at least thirty million in the bank.’

      ‘I’m not big on games, Claire.’ Unable to just sit there, he powered back up the wall and hammered on the gate, managing to stop himself from shouting because that wouldn’t get them anywhere.

      ‘Why not?’ At his silence she said, ‘I’m just trying to distract you from the fact we really are stuck in a lift and no one seems to be rushing to our aid.’

      ‘I don’t need you to distract me. I’m not a child. It’s just a damned elevator.’ If he said it enough he’d believe it.

      ‘Don’t waste your energy banging and cursing. If the electric’s out, we’ll be here until it’s fixed.’ Her hand snaked into his and she tugged him back down next to her. ‘Tell me, why does a man insist on taking the stairs, and get frustrated when he can’t? Why does he hesitate to get into a lift with a woman he’s having fun with?’

      ‘Maybe I just wanted some exercise.’ Ethan shuddered. How could she see through him? It was unnerving. ‘Maybe I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable after that creep was coming on to you.’

      ‘And maybe there’s a lot more to your story, but you clearly don’t want to talk about it.’

      ‘No, I don’t.’

      She shrugged. ‘So now you do want to play the game. A mystery man who doesn’t like broken lifts.’

      Hot damn, why did he feel a need to explain? ‘It’s a normal, natural reaction to being trapped. I’d prefer it if we weren’t at the mercy of mechanical things.’

      ‘You’ve had a bad experience in one before?’

      ‘Something like that. A long time ago. I was stuck under a collapsed building.’ He breathed out. He’d never said anything about this to anyone in over fifteen years and yet here he was saying this to a stranger. Maybe it was easier to say these kinds of things to someone you knew you were never going to see again, who wouldn’t call you out on the fact that sometimes you got a little jittery in a tin box. That just happened to be broken. ‘It took a few hours to get me out. Other people died. I was lucky.’

      Lucky. Yeah, he should be grateful for the nightmares—at least he got to wake up. But grateful wasn’t the emotion he generally experienced, not when guilt fitted him like a second skin.

      She put her hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I don’t even know what to say to that. It must have been so frightening.’

      Understatement of the year. He blew out a slow breath. ‘Yes, well, as I said, it was a long time ago. I’d prefer it if we