by Amy Knupp
The casita consisted of a large bedroom that faced the sea and looked out on a partially covered, dimly illuminated deck that was at least as large, with a dining table, a sumptuous-looking round-cushioned lounge chair that could fit two, a pair of single loungers, a wet bar and kitchenette, a modest-sized plunge pool, and, as promised, two wooden steps down to the sand. Nestled behind the bedroom was a spa-quality bathroom with a soaking tub, granite vanity, indoor and outdoor showers, and enough space to hold a yoga class.
“I’m sure you’re ready to crawl into bed after your long voyage,” Giovanni said from his spot near the door, where he’d waited while she gave each space a once-over.
“More than,” she admitted, nearly drooling at the thought of crawling into the luxurious, heavenly king-sized bed.
“I’ll wish you a wonderful night’s sleep. Please dial the front desk if we can get you anything at all.”
She offered her hand, but instead of a businesslike shake, he raised it and pressed his lips to it briefly. He released her before she could tug away, and when she looked at him questioningly, he merely winked and let himself out, leaving little doubt that he was attracted to her.
After locking the door, she wandered out onto the deck and took a long, slow inhalation of humid, salty air. So far, Giovanni had been subtle, but if he became more forward, she would have to be frank with him. Not the most comfortable situation in light of their plans to nurture a business relationship, but she would handle it.
After a handful of breaths, it was easier to shift her thoughts from the resort owner to a more comfortable subject—business. That was the reason for the trip, after all.
What she’d seen of the resort so far was spectacular, the luxury unparalleled and the location idyllic. Tomorrow, she would take pictures for Ellie and Thomas, because she suspected this was exactly what they were looking for. Cora had briefed her on one of her clients who might be interested in Bellamore as well, and based on the client’s wish list that Cora had shared, this resort could be perfect.
And maybe Sierra and Cole, Mackenzie thought, but that immediately brought Drake to mind, and she was back to feeling uneasy. Because instead of focusing on her business meeting with him a few days ago, her mind insisted on replaying the sex with him—the good parts, before Ezra had ruined it. The good parts had been off-the-charts amazing and apparently impossible to forget, even thousands of miles away.
“You’re an idiot,” she said out loud to herself as the breeze rustled her hair. “You’re on a dream vacation to a dream part of the world, and Drake North is anything but your dream man.” Except maybe in bed, she silently acknowledged, then shook her head at herself. “He’s as unsettled as a guy can be.”
Turning from the expanse of sand and open water that dimly sparkled from the moon above, she promised herself to put Drake out of her mind and focus on two things only for the next five days—building her business and soaking up every ounce of pampering and extravagance that was Bellamore.
Chapter Eighteen
Mackenzie didn’t see how her morning could get any better.
She’d taken the advice of Levani, her brilliant massage therapist, changed into her emerald-green bikini after the massage, and returned to the main pool deck to enjoy her midmorning breakfast—a fresh fruit medley of melon, pineapple, and bananas with whipped cream on top and a pitcher of refreshing, rejuvenating cucumber water.
Though she had every intention of getting some work done today, she hadn’t yet been able to pull herself from the relaxed stupor caused by the massage and the warm rays of the sun.
When the heat became too much, she immersed herself into the picture-perfect swimming pool. There were actually two resort pools in one—an irregular-shaped lagoon-like one and a long, narrow rectangular one for laps, which lined one side of the lagoon pool, overlooking it and spilling water down into it. Cushioned teak loungers were scattered around the area, along with round tables with thatched umbrellas and chairs.
A man and a woman had been in the pool when she first arrived, but they’d disappeared in a hurry, obviously honeymooners. Otherwise Mackenzie had the area mostly to herself, with an employee or guest walking through periodically.
She pushed into a lazy back float and gazed up at the cloudless, perfectly sky-blue sky. Keeping her mind on low speed, she allowed herself to start a mental list of work goals for the day—taking and emailing photos to Ellie and Cora, researching accommodations and tourist sites in Eastern Europe and South America for Tucker Steele and Jackson Lowell, respectively, and corresponding with a handful of resorts on behalf of Dorian Bradley.
The longer the glorious sun beat down on her face, the more she realized she probably should either hit the shade or apply some sunscreen. She wanted to get some color on her skin, but lobster red had never been her hue. Eventually she rolled to her front and dove underwater, then swam slowly toward the steps at the end of the pool. When she surfaced, she tilted her head back to get her hair out of her face and wiped both hands over her eyes. She rose to her full height in the waist-deep water and strolled the rest of the way to the stairs.
As she took the last step out, with water washing down her body, she spotted Giovanni off in the distance, exiting the reception hut. He waved as his gaze roved over her, and even from here, she could see appreciation in his eyes as he smiled widely. She merely nodded in acknowledgment and hurried toward her lounger to retrieve her towel, relieved she’d worn her modest, plain bikini instead of the black crisscross string one that showed even more skin.
Just before she reached her chair, the sound of her name behind her had her halting abruptly. The familiar voice resonated deep within her body even before her brain could make the connection, and she whipped around in surprise.
“Hi,” Drake said, standing there all nonchalant, as if they were running into each other at a gas station in East Nashville, not on the other side of the damn world.
“H-hi,” she managed, her mouth seeming to be stuck open in shock.
Before she could attempt to make sense of the fact that he was standing there at an exclusive beach resort in Jiva, her brain cells registered how delectable he looked. He was dressed for comfort in gray athletic pants and a shoe-logo T-shirt that couldn’t hide his gym-honed pecs. His hair was slightly mussed, and there was a little more scruff on his chin than usual. His eyes were locked on her, burning over her skin, making her wish she’d chosen the black string bikini.
Snapping out of her stunned admiration, she said, “What are you doing here?”
Drake’s lips eased into a slow, gorgeous grin as he closed the distance between them. “What a coincidence,” he drawled.
It clicked that he was obviously there to check up on her or follow her or do something relating to her. Tempt her, maybe.
Crap, he was so damn tempting.
“You followed me?” she said, stunned, determined not to betray any eagerness at his appearance. “I… What… It takes a day and a half to get here.”
“I wanted to check out Jiva for Cole and Sierra,” he said, not putting much effort at all into making her believe his line of BS.
“Liar.”
“What? This looks perfect for them.” He swept a hand in a gesture encompassing the whole resort, and Mackenzie strove to summon some annoyance at his ridiculous claim.
“It is, and that’s why you hired me. So I could research their options, either online or in person. This is my job. So again, why are you here?”
He stared into her eyes for a good long time, as if deciding on his answer. “I don’t trust the smarmy guy.”
“What?”
“Adonis.”
“You mean Giovanni?” Her chin dipped down as she let that sink in. “You can’t be serious.” She suspected, from his expression, that he might be though, and she processed the implications of that. Did he think she couldn’t handle herself? What if she wanted to get to know Giovanni better? She didn’t, of course, but what if she did? Was Drake bac
k to older-brother mode or was he…jealous? “You can’t… That’s not… You know that’s crazy, right?” she sputtered.
“Pretty Mackenzie, is everything okay?” Giovanni spoke from behind and to the right of her. His overprotective tone was all it took for inspiration to strike.
She threw her arms around Drake in a tight, welcoming hug. In his ear, she whispered, “Play along with me, please?”
She didn’t know if it was agreement or not, but Drake pulled her into him and made the embrace believable. At least it wasn’t a stretch for Mackenzie as she breathed in the scent of him and felt the roughness of his jaw at her temple and savored the familiarity, the safety, the pure irresistible maleness of him. Then she felt Drake’s palm slide over her upper thigh to rest possessively on her not-quite-covered butt, and it was as if her turned-on switch had been flipped from warming up to full power.
When Giovanni made a sound in his throat behind them, she was jerked back to the ruse.
“Drake,” she said, her voice sounding a little shaky to her, so she cleared her throat. “This is Giovanni Rossi. He’s the owner of Bellamore. Giovanni, this is Drake North.” Looking into Drake’s eyes, she added, “A close friend of mine.”
It took Giovanni several seconds to reply. “You seemed a little upset when I approached.”
With a laugh, Mackenzie said, “Shocked is a better word. He came all the way from Tennessee to see me. In the US. It’s…crazy.” She looked back at Drake as she said the last, piercing him with her gaze, trying to discern his true reasons for traveling so far, because the idea that he’d traveled for more than a day because of Giovanni was preposterous.
He held the eye contact, and it was all she could do not to get lost in it.
“Sometimes a little crazy is called for,” Drake said to her. It didn’t escape her notice that he had yet to directly acknowledge Giovanni. “Want to help me find my room?” he asked her.
“Casita,” Giovanni corrected.
“I’d love to,” Mackenzie said, dying to grill him in private. Drake pulled her to his side possessively, as if he was just so happy to see her, or maybe just so happy to flaunt it in Giovanni’s face.
For the first time, she noticed a duffel and a messenger bag on the chaise behind Drake and asked, “Have you checked in?”
He retrieved his key card from his front pants pocket and held it up. “I’m in the Reefside Retreat, which I gather is that way.” He pointed.
“It is,” Giovanni said, slipping back into his gracious host persona. “Right next to Sea Sanctuary, as a matter of fact.”
“Ah,” Mackenzie said, “I know exactly where it is then. Thank you, Giovanni. We’ll see you later.”
He gave her a single nod, his expression blank except for a professional smile. “Very well. Enjoy your morning.”
She thought to pick up her white mesh cover-up but didn’t take the time to put it on. She interlocked her elbow with Drake’s, and they headed down the stone path toward his casita. Once the walkway took them past the lounge, around a curve, and out of sight, Mackenzie pulled away and put several inches between them, fighting internally to get her equilibrium and her right mind back.
Chapter Nineteen
Drake hadn’t seen any of that coming at all.
He hadn’t known what kind of reception Mackenzie would give him, but he definitely hadn’t anticipated her throwing herself into his arms. He’d also not expected to find her, first thing, looking like five feet and ten inches of sin personified in a simple, plain bikini that said she wasn’t even trying to make men lose their minds over her.
He sure as shit was not complaining about either.
Even if she had pulled away as soon as they were out of the sleaze-ball resort guy’s sight.
After a five-minute walk, he spotted a sign that said Reefside Retreat with an arrow that pointed down a short, narrow path. Both sides of it were lined by lush, jungle-like bushes with bright blooms in oranges and pinks and yellows and reds.
He led her to the door and opened it with his key card, then allowed her to enter first. With a cursory, distracted glance around the room, he registered that the accommodations were top-notch as he tossed his bags on the king-sized bed that was front and center, but he was more focused on the woman before him. The woman who silently padded over in her bare feet to one of the glass sliders that opened onto a deck, powder-fine white sand, and a killer view of the calm, crystal-blue sea.
She stood on this side of the glass with her back to him, her cover-up in one hand, looking out, which gave him a moment to take in the gorgeous picture she made in her bikini. Her legs were long and slender, her ass two delectable globes that made his palms itch with the desire to touch them, knead them. The sample feel by the pool had had him going hard in an instant, and his erection throbbed painfully again now. Her top was held up by two ties. He wanted to untie them both, watch the material fall to the tile floor, and then stand there in total enthrallment as she slowly turned to face him, offering her perfect breasts to him.
“Don’t think for a second I bought your excuses for being here,” she said, crashing his fantasy to an end.
“They’re true,” he said, knowing full well they weren’t the only reason. He needed to tell her the main reason now, but he was chartering yet more new-to-him territory, and it took some thought as to how to say it.
Mackenzie whipped around. He tried not to let her chest catch his attention as it bounced slightly with the movement. “Are you here to piss Ezra off? Is this an amusing way for you to pass your time?”
He flinched inwardly. “Is that really what you think of me?” He was a lot of things, but spiteful, vengeful, and cruel weren’t traits he generally embodied.
“I don’t know what to think,” she said, tossing the cover-up to the chair in the corner and crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’m not here to piss Ezra off. He doesn’t know I’m here. I haven’t talked to him since…that night.” He’d stopped giving a shit what Ezra thought. “There’s nothing funny about me being here.” Swallowing, he searched for courage. “I’m here because I wanted to see you.”
She narrowed her eyes the slightest bit, almost indiscernibly, but he caught it because he was scrutinizing her for any signs of anything.
“Really,” he said, because he could tell she couldn’t decide whether to believe him. Drake closed some of the space between them and acknowledged, “When I first got the idea, I tried to tell myself it was because I didn’t trust Mr. Smooth out there.” He gestured in the general direction of Adonis.
“I can take—”
“I know you can take care of yourself,” he preempted. “I was…jealous.”
There. He’d said it.
Mackenzie’s features softened by several degrees and she tilted her head. “There’s nothing to be jealous about between me and Giovanni.”
“I’ve never felt jealousy about a woman before,” he said, “but that jealousy made jumping on the plane in Nashville seem like a perfectly justified thing to do.”
“Maybe a little extreme,” she said, her tone lighter, not hiding her amusement.
“Maybe. When I boarded in San Francisco, though, I had to stop lying to myself. I had to admit that the driving reason for jetting around the globe after you is because I want to spend time with you, Mackenzie.”
As she stared up into his eyes, she inhaled audibly, then pressed her lips together, as if preparing to say something. Instead, she let out the breath and turned away to face the glass door again. “The problem with that is that you didn’t take into consideration for one second what I might want.”
He stared at the back of her head, her copper-brown hair still wet and hanging down messily to the tops of her feminine shoulders. “That might be a fair assessment,” he said. He took two long strides so that he stood next to her, leaned his upper body against the window, facing her profile. “And if so, I apologize. My decision was impulsive, but even so, I stand behind it now. I�
��m telling you I want to spend time with you. And now I’m asking you if that’s what you want too.”
Her long-lashed eyes remained fixed on the view straight in front of her, so Drake waited her out, staring, sweating, dreading what her answer would be the longer she remained quiet.
“It’s not that easy, Drake.”
“It could be that easy.” He couldn’t resist touching her and trailed his finger from her shoulder down the silky skin of her upper arm.
Instead of softening, she stiffened, straightened, and a wrinkle popped up between her brows. “I made a promise to myself when I decided to move to Nashville. I promised myself no drama, no entanglements, no anything right now except building up the new office of To the Stars and finding my forever home. No roommates, no boyfriends, no extra chaos.”
“And I’m chaos?” He flashed her one of his most charming grins.
“That’s a fair assessment,” she mimicked, her lips hinting at a smile.
“Did somebody hurt you recently?”
“Nothing like that. It’s…” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t make sense to you.”
“Now you’re calling me stupid?” he said, grinning. “I’m more than just a dumb jock.”
Finally, she met his gaze, measuring him with those deep brown eyes, and he realized in that second how badly he wanted to measure up, be whatever she needed him to be.
Her hesitation stretched out and her eyes shifted back to the water view. Just when he’d decided she was going to blow him off, she spoke. “Well, first there was my mom and all the times she moved us. I think that had more of an effect on me than I ever realized.”
“I can understand how that could happen.”
It had always seemed like that’s what the Shaw family did—they moved. Ezra hadn’t talked about it much. Only later, once he and Ezra had finished college, did he realize how much that way of life had affected Ezra. Mackenzie’s brother seemed to thrive on bouncing from hotel room to hotel room, rarely spending more than a couple of nights in any one city, including his home base of Houston.
