by Angela Evans
“And what will Charity have to say about me kissing you in the middle of the street?”
“That the widow Manning was making out with a stranger, I imagine. No, wait, that the widow Manning was making out with a hot stranger.”
“The widow Manning? Is that what she calls you?” Michael looked horrified.
“Charity likes to remind you of who you are and where you come from. To her, that means reminding me that my husband left me alone with two young kids to raise. It’s her superpower, making people feel small.” It didn’t bother Leslie in the least that Charity liked to remind her of her status as a young widow. She didn’t need to be reminded—she lived with her husband’s poor choices every day—but she wouldn’t trade her life with her boys for anything.
“That’s a terrible nickname,” Michael said.
“I know, but it’s not worth the argument. Arguing with Charity just gives her more power. I don’t care what she thinks of me, so why should I worry about what she calls me?” Leslie pointed out what she considered was her own flawless logic.
The phone in the cup holder between them rang, and Michael reached for it. “Sorry, that’s probably my assistant. I asked her to call me with some information. If I answer now, she won’t bother us the rest of the night.” He swiped the screen.
His assistant’s voice came through the speakers. “Hello?”
Leslie tried to picture her from her voice and came up with a cliched image of a sexy secretary from some ancient sitcom.
“Hey, did you find anything?” Michael asked casually.
“I got one hit. I’m having it faxed to the resort so you can pick it up at the front desk. A woman fitting the description you gave me has sent some seriously crazy letters to Baxter.” The sound of papers rustling came through the speakers, as if she was searching her desk for something.
“To Baxter? Not to Dani?” Michael’s brows furrowed. He didn’t look pleased with this bit of information.
“You heard me. She’s sent letters for the last year to year and a half. At first they went through his publicist, then they started coming straight to his house.”
Leslie wondered why that was so important, but she waited quietly, not sure if Michael wanted his assistant to know he had a woman in the car.
“She sent mail to his home address and this is the first we’re hearing of it?” Michael’s raised voice was far from the only indication of his rising temper. His shoulders were tense, his fists gripped the steering wheel harder than necessary, and then he swore under his breath.
Whatever was going on, he was not happy about it. Leslie started to worry that work was going to ruin their night together again.
“Yes, sir,” his assistant said with a note of sarcasm in her voice. “I didn’t get any info from Baxter at all. Everything was strictly Dani, as far as I knew.”
“I know.” Michael rubbed his face in frustration. “Then she sandbagged us with this kid. I can’t protect her, and the kid, while ignoring Baxter. There’s just no scenario where that works, and it’s not how we work.”
“I agree. Want me to call her?”
Michael hesitated for a minute and sent Leslie an apologetic look. “Call his head of security and tell him I want a meeting with him tomorrow to clear this up. I’ll be tied up this evening, but tell everyone this is officially all hands on deck. I want everyone, including you, here first thing tomorrow.”
“You got it, boss,” the assistant replied with a fair amount of humor and a tinge of sarcasm in her voice.
As he ended the call, Leslie decided she liked this woman. The conversation had completely eliminated the sexy secretary picture from her imagination. Now Leslie pictured the other woman as practical, capable, and extremely efficient, with more than enough confidence to put her boss in his place when necessary.
“Sorry about that,” Michael said as they pulled into the resort.
“Don’t apologize! You’re here for work, so I expect that you’ll have to work some of the time. I know I have to get to the bakery tomorrow morning and finish putting the details on Dani and Baxter’s cake.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. Such a simple gesture, and one she’d seen men do a million times but had never experienced herself. The old-fashioned, romantic gesture touched her in a way she didn’t expect.
“I was apologizing because all of that means our time together will be shorter than I planned. My crew will be here bright and early tomorrow morning, and after that, I’ll probably be tied up until after the wedding.” He seemed to search for his words for a moment. “I wish I could promise that I’ll be able to make time to see you, or even to call you, but I would be surprised if that’s the case. I have to keep my attention on this case, and I’ve discovered that I’m not my usual focused self when you’re around.”
* * *
They were separate from the noise and people of the resort. There were no beachcombers on the sand by the villa, and they could just barely hear the music drifting on the warm evening air from the outdoor bar. As they walked hand in hand from the car, they were quiet, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere and beauty of the bay. A soft breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders and carried its fragrance to his nose.
He pulled her to a stop and couldn’t resist the temptation to test the silky softness of her hair against his fingertips. The curled ends wrapped around his fingers as if even her hair didn’t want to let him go. He brushed the curls with his thumb and watched her face as emotions flickered through her brown eyes. First, he saw desire, but she quickly tamped that down and something that may have been nervousness covered it. There was something more, something he couldn’t quite name, but he hoped that it was a feeling for him that would last beyond their night together. He wanted to be someone who mattered to her, even if he wasn’t sure where this was going.
“Do you always move so slowly?” she murmured, her eyes on his mouth.
“Always. Is that a problem?”
“I don’t know if I can wait.”
Her candor rocked him back on his heels. He was used to women who played games, who teased and flirted their way through life and relationships. Leslie was candid and honest, but a little guarded. She’d been hurt, and that meant the scars on her heart had toughened the exterior, but he knew that inside, her heart was warm and soft.
He knew that other parts of her were warm and soft as well. He’d spent the nights they’d been apart lying awake and thinking about their time in the cabana, about the sounds she made, the way she smelled, and most of all, the way she felt.
“Oh, you can definitely wait.” He pulled her in for a kiss. “And it will be worth it.”
If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he’d heard her growl quietly.
“You’re killing me,” she said.
“I haven’t even started yet,” he promised, earning another growl. “Growl all you want, you’re not going to rush me. I’m not going to rush this.”
“This?”
“Us. Our night together. Whatever happens next.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her along the beach until she fell easily in step beside him. The night was beautiful. He was coming to realize that every evening in Barefoot Bay was beautiful.
“It’s hard to believe this all happened because of a hurricane, isn’t it?” she asked.
“A hurricane? Really?” He was surprised. He looked around and saw no evidence of a storm’s damage.
“Yep. Lacey owned the land and had dreams of building a bed and breakfast here, but before she got started, a hurricane tore through the island and wiped it almost off the map. Lacey didn’t let that stop her though. In the meantime, she met Clay, her husband. He happens to be an amazing architect, so the two of them created all of this together.” She gestured around them to indicate the beauty of the resort.
“I’ve studied the resort layout and floor plan, but I had no idea that was their history.”
“What happened to ‘leave no stone untu
rned’?” she teased.
He laughed. “Oh, I don’t leave any stone unturned if there’s a chance that what’s under that rock could keep my client safe. But the history of a resort isn’t likely to affect my client’s safety, now is it?” He liked teasing her, laughing with her. Hell, he liked doing everything with her.
“I’m just joking. The locals know the history here of course, but I don’t think that Lacey and Clay are putting ‘hit by a hurricane’ on the travel brochures.” She laughed again, and he felt hypnotized by the sound and drawn to the joy radiating from her smile.
They’d made their way down the short stretch of beach that surrounded his villa and arrived at the front steps.
“Have you been here before?” he asked.
“Here? At the resort?” She tilted her head in a way that thoroughly charmed him.
“This villa.” He took both her hands in his.
“No, I’ve mostly been up in the main building, where the Barefoot Brides office is, and then down at the beach where we usually hold the weddings. Once or twice we’ve done a consult in the bride’s rooms, but that’s not the normal routine.”
Her thumb swiped across the inside of his wrist, and he felt his pulse kick up in response. His entire body was so tuned to her that all she had to do was glance his way and he was halfway to hard. He was glad she hadn’t been to this villa before, and selfishly, he hoped she was never here again. He didn’t want to think about her here, or anywhere, with someone else.
This whole thing with Leslie was crazy. He was usually cool, calm, and collected, able to compartmentalize things, and always, always focused on work above all else. Since the first time he’d laid eyes on Leslie in the wedding planner’s office, he hadn’t been able to focus on anything but the taste of her lips, the smell of her hair, and the way she felt in his arms.
It was time to turn those thoughts into reality, then into memories.
* * *
Leslie had seen the inside of the villas at Barefoot Bay, but that didn’t prepare her for what awaited her inside the villa Michael had reserved for them. White linen covered every upholstered surface, including sheer white curtains that fluttered in the open windows looking out at the bay. A king-sized bed was visible through the bedroom doorway. A luxurious white couch and chair created a sitting area in the living room. She smiled, thinking about how she would never, ever consider white furniture with two young boys. Anything that wasn’t white linen was dark teak, creating a stark contrast.
It wasn’t the furniture or the linens that caught her by surprise though; it was the glowing candles all around the rooms. Chilled champagne and the biggest strawberries she’d ever seen waited on the coffee table. The entire room glowed with candlelight and smelled as sweet as anything she could remember.
Michael was romancing her, she realized with a start. In her entire life, she’d never had a man light candles or chill champagne for her. He must have had someone slip in and set everything up while they drove across Mimosa Key. She wished she’d dressed up. She wished she’d taken the time to touch up her makeup and style her hair. She wore shorts and a casual summer top. Nothing fancy. Glancing down, she regretted that she had rushed out of the house so quickly.
“You look beautiful,” he murmured against her ear, reading her mind once again.
One more thing that she had assumed was reserved for other women, never for her. Sweet words whispered in her ear by a gorgeous, sexy man who had brought her to his hotel room to make love to her. Her head was spinning, and she didn’t want it to stop.
Michael’s hands were at her waist, and she turned naturally into his arms. He was dressed as casually as she was, a T-shirt and shorts, but somehow, they didn’t look casual on him. They looked hot enough to burn her fingers if she touched him. His hands came up her sides, over her rib cage, and cupped both breasts as his mouth came down to kiss her.
Just as her mind was about to fade to black and lose the ability to form intelligent thoughts, she had an idea. Michael might profess his desire to move slowly and drive her crazy in the process, but he wasn’t as in control as he pretended to be. He was as turned on as she was, which meant to get her way, all she had to do was push him past that razor-sharp control.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, curving her body against his. He was solid muscle, the kind that came from working hard. He smelled spicy and slightly minty; she suspected it was from whatever he used to shave and not from any type of cologne or aftershave. Whatever it was, the smell was innately him, masculine and comforting. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and deepened the kiss, earning a groan in response. That small groan gave her the encouragement she needed.
Leslie slipped her hands from his shoulders down his back and pulled at the hem of his shirt as she slid her hands underneath and felt his warm skin, firm and toned. She wanted to do more than touch it under his shirt. She wanted to taste it, see it, and feel his skin against hers. She tugged, but he wouldn’t let her slip his shirt off. Instead, he lifted his head and rested his forehead against hers while his breath came fast against her cheek.
“Let’s open the champagne,” he suggested, but she knew he was just stalling to regain his precious control.
She didn’t want him calm and in control. She wanted him to feel as out of control as she felt. It was only fair.
“Sure,” she said, not really caring if they had the champagne or not. “I think I’ll slip in and use the ladies’ room.” She gestured over her shoulder toward the bedroom and connected bathroom.
“Sure, it’s right through there. First door on the right.” He was concentrating on opening the champagne bottle.
Inside the bathroom, which was every bit as luscious as the rest of the villa, Leslie stared at herself in the mirror, wondering if she really had the confidence and bravado to do what she was considering. How would Michael react? What did she have to lose?
A hairbrush the resort provided for guests rested on the marble vanity top, so she brushed her hair until it shined and the waves looked tidy and styled. Opening a drawer, she found some basic cosmetics and applied a quick dash of lip gloss. She smiled as she realized that Michael would hopefully kiss that off in just a moment.
Enough stalling, enough doubting. It was time to make the leap. She toed off first one sandal then the other as she reached for the button of her shorts.
* * *
Michael tasted the sweet champagne but didn’t really pay attention to it. Leslie had been in the bathroom for several minutes, and he wondered if she was getting cold feet. It would kill him, but he swore to himself he would drive her home if she had changed her mind. They would have their night together, but not until she was completely ready. He’d kept himself busy, by securing his gun in the lockbox in the credenza while she was doing…whatever she was doing in there.
He heard the softest whisper of a sound behind him and turned to find Leslie framed in the doorway between the bedroom and the living room. Just enough light came through the whisper-soft curtains to cast her in silhouette, and it took him a heartbeat to realize she’d left her clothes in the bathroom. She was standing in his bedroom wearing nothing but the smallest scraps of lace. Not the practical cotton he’d seen before. She’d worn something special, and he hoped she’d thought of him when she put it on.
“I know you want to go slow and I know you said it will be worth all this torture to wait, but I don’t want to wait or go slow. I want you to feel as off-balance and out of control as I do,” she said softly.
He was moving toward her and had no memory of telling his body to do so. He set his champagne glass on some piece of furniture along the way and had no idea which one it was. In an instant, he was holding her again and kissing her as though he would never stop. He ordered his body to slow down and gave his dick a quick “Down, boy,” but none of it was working. His hand found its way to her ass, which was mostly bare because her underwear was ridiculously tiny. If he was thinking clearly, wh
ich he was not, he would wonder what the point of underwear that small was. He’d managed to notice that her bra and panties were both pink, but that was all he’d registered beyond Leslie being nearly naked.
She was kissing him back as fiercely as he kissed her. Their tongues did the dance that was as old as time as she tugged his shirt up to his shoulders and insisted on pushing it over his head. When they separated for a second to pull the shirt off, he realized she had pulled them backward into the bedroom. She wasn’t kidding when she said she didn’t want to go slow.
They could go slow next time, he decided. Because there would most definitely be a next time, and a time after that, and God willing, a time after that.
His bare chest brushed the satin and lace of her bra. With a hand under her backside, he lifted her feet off the floor and groaned as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her feminine heat was pressed against his stomach, just above the waistband of his shorts. His hands were on her mostly bare ass, and his mouth was on hers. He’d died and gone to heaven.
The only downside to holding her was that it kept both his hands busy and he couldn’t explore the rest of her body. Meanwhile, her hands were free to do whatever they wanted. Currently, that meant touching every part of his exposed upper body and driving him mad in the process. He wasn’t ready to put her down though. Having her surround him felt too damn good to bring it to an end.
Her hands traveled over his shoulders, across his chest, and down his arms. As much as he wished he could hold her like this forever, the reality was, his arms were starting to shake. The last thing he wanted to do was drop her. He crossed the room in a few strides until his shins bumped up against the side of the bed.
“Put me down,” she murmured against his mouth.
“You’re holding on,” he reminded her with a smile.
“Oh yeah.”
She uncrossed her ankles behind his back, and he removed his hands from her gorgeous ass, letting her plop onto the mattress. After one bounce, she fell back on her elbows, looking at him as though she wanted to devour him.
