by Reese Ryan
The truth was, she didn’t care and had no desire to find out. She wasn’t afraid of Alex. She’d taken defense classes. She could take care of herself if she needed to. Yet, she’d scrapped her plans to return to California and opted to stay at the resort instead. Liam had comped their housing through the wrap-up meeting following the volleyball tournament, not long after Labor Day. She hadn’t intended to take him up on it. But when she heard Alex’s voice mail, her blood had run cold. She’d canceled her flight home and hired a trainer to work with her in Pleasure Cove.
Bree came to a stop, hands on her hips, sweat running down the side of her face. She checked her pulse. Good, but not great. Breathing heavily, she plopped down into the sand and pulled her cell phone out of her armband and checked her email. Her sporting-goods sponsor was making the final decision on a new line of volleyball attire branded with her name. She needed to review the designs and give her input on which pieces should make the final cut.
No email from the sponsor yet. There was an email from Lisa Chastain with the subject “Changes to Program.” She scanned the email, her heart beating faster.
That jerk.
Wes apparently hadn’t liked her idea about making the event a family-friendly one. It wasn’t part of the original plan, but it was important to her and Bex. They planned to lead volleyball camps for kids aged eight to seventeen. What better way to build a relationship with her target clients than to involve them in the Pleasure Cove tournament?
Wes clearly didn’t agree. Was this his way of getting back at her?
Only one way to find out.
Bree searched the tournament contact list for Wesley’s number. She inhaled a deep breath, then clicked on the number. The phone rang several times then went to voice mail.
“Hey, this is Wes. Not available right now, but leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you.”
The beep sounded and her heart stuck in her throat, leaving her speechless for a moment. “Wesley, this is Brianna Evans. I just saw the email about the changes you’re requesting. I’d like to discuss it. Please call me back as soon as you get a moment.”
Bree finished her run, determined not to think of Wes or Alex.
* * *
Five hours later, Wes hadn’t answered her original message or picked up the two times she’d called since then. Maybe her behavior was coming dangerously close to that of a stalker. Bree didn’t care. This was important. There was no way Liam would side with her over Wes. Miranda and Lisa were enthusiastic about her idea during the meeting, but she doubted they’d have much sway over their boss if he was backing Wes on this.
She had to go directly to the source. Make Wes understand why the family-friendly component of the tournament was critical.
Bree sat at the kitchen counter, tapping her short nails against the granite. Wes had returned to London for the past few weeks, but she’d seen him arrive the day before. He was right next door, ignoring her calls.
Bree could hear Bex’s voice in her head.
Whatever it takes.
She sighed, then hopped down from the stool. Wes wasn’t answering his phone. Maybe he would answer the door instead. Bree knocked. No answer. She’d smelled food grilling earlier. Maybe he was out back. Bree headed through her guest house and went outside. She looked over the barrier between their back decks. There he was, lounging on a chaise, eyes closed and earphones plugged in.
Bree called his name, but Wes didn’t respond or even move an inch. She called him again. Still, he didn’t hear her. Finally, she climbed over the barrier. She reached out to shake his arm, but she paused, taking him in.
God, this man is gorgeous.
The temperature was only in the low seventies, but the sun still shone brightly overhead, making it feel much warmer. He’d taken off his shirt and thrown it across the empty chaise. She studied his inked, brown skin. The tattoo on his right arm was part of a much larger tattoo that covered the entire right half of his torso and disappeared below the waistband of the swim shorts, which hung dangerously low on his hips. Just how far down did that tattoo go?
You’re not here to ogle him. Get a grip.
Wes cleared his throat. A smirk curled the edges of his mouth.
Damn. Busted again.
“Hey, I was just... I mean I was...” Bree sucked in a deep breath, willing herself to stop babbling. “You didn’t answer any of my calls.”
“Exactly how many times did you call?” There was slight tension in his voice.
Yep. He definitely thought she was stalking him.
“A couple times,” she lied, clearing her throat. “Were you screening my calls?”
“Phone’s in the house. Sometimes I like to unplug.” He yawned, then shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked up at her. “You should try it some time.”
Bree stepped forward, her back molars grinding and her hands balled into fists at her side. “I’ll pass on the life advice, thanks. It’s bad enough you’re taking over my event.”
“Your event?” Wes raised an eyebrow in slight amusement as he adjusted the chair into a sitting position. “This is Liam’s event. You’re the celebrity name with the pretty face they hired to front the operation.” A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t expect we’d see you beyond the first meeting.”
Wes was enjoying making her crazy. If the racing of her pulse and the tightening of her nipples were any indication, he was making her crazy for him, too.
Bree tore her gaze away from the sexy smirk on his lips and forced it upward to meet his, rather than downward to steal another glance at the hard muscles glistening beneath a slight sheen of sweat.
Her nails dug into her palms as she stepped closer. Her shadow fell across him. “This isn’t my first rodeo, cowboy. Contrary to what you might think, I’m not just a pretty face. I agreed to join this project because Liam wanted my input.”
“I was only teasing. Thought it would lighten the mood.” His expression was apologetic. Seemingly sincere. He snatched his shirt off the empty chaise and extended his hand toward it. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
“I don’t want to sit. I want to know why you’ve vetoed my idea without the courtesy of an email or a phone call.” Bree crossed her arms over her chest, where his eyes had wandered momentarily.
Wes climbed to his feet and stretched, giving her an excellent view of the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen, beneath his smooth brown skin.
The man took good care of himself. From head to toe. No doubt about that.
He walked over to the hot tub near the far corner of the deck. After removing the cover, he folded it and placed it on the bench before slipping inside. He closed his eyes as he sank deeper into the bubbling water. The tension seemed to disappear from his shoulders.
Finally, he acknowledged her again, though he didn’t open his eyes. “If you want to discuss the idea now, I suggest you grab a swimsuit. Because for the next hour or so, this is where I’ll be taking my meetings.”
Bree’s cheeks flamed and her heart beat so loudly Wes could probably hear it. Her hands tightened into fists at her side, itching with a desire to smack that self-satisfied grin off his handsome face. “I am not getting into that hot tub.”
“Then I guess we’ll talk about this when I return in a week.”
“Wesley Adams—”
He gestured that he couldn’t hear her, then slipped lower in the water.
Bree gritted her teeth, climbed back over the divider and headed up to her bedroom. If he thought he could drive her off that easily, he was in for a rude awakening.
* * *
Wes shut his eyes and allowed the heated water and full-blast jet streams to melt the tension. For as long as he could remember, any stress he was feeling had gone straight to his shoulders. He could still hear his teacher, Ms. Lively
, scolding him for hunching his shoulders around his ears, like they were a pair of earrings.
He’d been a sensitive kid. Always in tune with the feelings of others. Particularly his mother and grandmother. His mother had always put on a brave face and tried to hide her anxiety. But she didn’t fool him. Not for a minute. Not even when he was twelve.
Over the years he’d learned to control it. To dial back his reaction to other people’s feelings. He reserved that kind of investment for the people who really mattered to him.
Lena Adams was at the top of that list.
Despite the brave face she’d put on, she was scared. Afraid of what the future held when her body no longer complied. The pain that simmered beneath her brave smile nestled in his gut like a five-hundred-pound boulder. He hadn’t been able to shake it.
The trip back to London hadn’t helped. His event manager, Nadia, wasn’t happy about his decision to make Pleasure Cove the new home base of the company. She was aware that he’d planned to expand to the US, but she’d expected him to continue living and working in London for the majority of the year. He had, too. His mother’s illness changed his plans.
He wouldn’t move to New Bern, where his mother lived. She’d feel he was encroaching on her independence. Instead, he’d make Pleasure Cove his home base, keeping him within an easy two-hour drive of his mother. Besides, with Pleasure Cove as his base he could easily work with Westbrook International Luxury Resorts on future projects, while slowly expanding his reach along the East Coast. It wasn’t the fancy, New York office he’d planned, but he’d make it work.
“Looks like you’re deep in thought. Hope you’re thinking about why my family-friendly tournament is the better option.”
His eyes fluttered open. Wes blinked. Twice.
Bree stepped down from the bench in a sexy, black one-piece swimsuit that caused all of the tension that had drained from his shoulders to settle below his waist. He swallowed hard as she walked toward him. The asymmetrical swimsuit had one strap, across her left shoulder. Just below her full breasts, a cut-out veered in, nearly to her navel, then dipped back out again at her waist, revealing the smooth, brown skin on the left side of her torso. Her hair was pulled up in a loose ponytail, high at the back of her head.
She was gorgeous. From the sway of her generous hips and the sly turn at the corners of her pouty lips, she damn well knew it.
The gloves were off, and Bree was prepared to play dirty. There was no way in hell he could concentrate on business while she was standing there in...that.
His appreciative assessment of the swim attire clinging for dear life to her undulating curves hadn’t gone unnoticed. Bree tried to swallow a grin as she inched closer, then slid out of her sandals.
Wes extended his hand to her, but didn’t stand. If he did, his appreciation for her choice of swimwear would become painfully obvious. “You took me up on the offer. Didn’t think you would.”
“Don’t underestimate me. I don’t give up so easily.” She settled into the seat across from his.
He nodded, his gaze settling on her fiercely determined one. Bree was ready for a battle. “I know. Watched you play for years. I’ve seen you dig out of some tough spots. Your refusal to concede, it’s what I admire most about you as a player.”
“But not as a colleague seated across the boardroom table, I take it.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts, inadvertently providing him with a spectacular view of her cleavage. His gaze dropped there momentarily and she immediately realized her mistake. Bree lowered her arms and narrowed her gaze at him, one eyebrow raised.
“I appreciate tenacity, even in an opponent. Regardless of the playing field. Apparently you do, too. You teamed up with one of your fiercest rivals, Bex Jacobs.” Wes reached behind him and opened the cooler. “Beer?”
She stared at him for a moment, as if the question was a test, then nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
Wes grabbed two beers, opened them both and handed one to her. “So you and Bex...how’d that happen?”
“We became friends during a trip to the Olympics with other partners. A couple years later, we both found ourselves in need of new partners. Teaming up was a no-brainer.”
“A lot of pundits felt it was a mistake for you two to team up.”
“Reporters and analysts who were afraid that without our rivalry, there would be nothing else in women’s volleyball to talk about.” She practically snorted. He held back a grin. “They were wrong.”
“They were, and so was I. I was one of those people who thought it was a mistake. Glad I was wrong.” He sipped his beer.
“But you’re not wrong now?” She narrowed her gaze when he gestured that her estimation was correct. Her cheeks turned deep red and she pursed her lips. “You summarily dismissed the idea without giving it any consideration.”
“I have considered your proposal. It’s admirable you want to make the event welcoming to families, but that isn’t what we’re going for here.”
“Why not? Because you say so?” She crossed her arms again, higher this time, blocking his view of her curves. It was a move he appreciated—he didn’t need the distraction.
“Because we want to make as much money on this event as possible the first time out. We won’t do that selling cotton candy and ice cream. Alcohol—” he held up his bottle for emphasis “—that’s where we’ll make our money. Throw in a celebrity chef making gourmet meals. Couple that with overpriced drinks with fancy names. Suddenly we’re making money hand over fist our first year.”
“You act like there isn’t money to be made in family entertainment.” The pitch of her voice climbed higher. “Ever heard of theme parks?”
“Of course.” He smiled inwardly. She was on the defensive. Not as calm and collected as she’d been when she’d strolled across the deck. “But this ain’t a theme park, darlin’. The Pleasure Cove Luxury Resort is geared toward entertainment of the adult variety. I imagine having Junior underfoot would kill Dad’s buzz while he’s ogling the celebrity volleyball players.”
She folded her arms, lifting her breasts again. Then she dropped them and sighed, not responding. He wasn’t sure if she was angry with him or herself.
Despite what she seemed to think, he got no joy from raining on her parade. He’d much prefer to see that gorgeous smile of hers. The one that went straight to his chest and made his heart skip a beat.
Wes leaned in, his voice apologetic. “Look, I admire your idea. I’m just not sure there’s a market for a family-friendly volleyball tournament. If there is, it’s definitely not Pleasure Cove. Besides, our goal is to make this event rival some of the other popular East Coast volleyball tournaments within the next three years. Inviting small children isn’t the way to do that.”
Her lower lip jutted out a bit. Even her pout was sexy as hell. It made him want to cross to her side and suck on her lower lip. Hear the soft moans that would emanate from her throat when he did. The memory of how she felt in his arms and the taste of those sweet, kissable lips crawled over his skin, unsettling him.
Keep your hands and lips to yourself, man.
Wes set his beer on the hot tub, dragging his gaze back to her eyes. He hated to see her disappointed. Hated being the cause of it. But he was hired to do a job. Not to protect the volleyball princess’s feelings.
So why did he feel like shit for killing her idea?
Bree set her beer bottle on the side of the hot tub. “Then we should be more aggressive with our plan. Give it a music festival vibe. Maybe bring in some up-and-coming local bands on rotating stages. That’s what they did at the tournament in LA. I played in that tournament a few times. The lure of the bands boosted attendance.”
“This isn’t LA. We’re not exactly known for our music scene.”
“Okay, maybe not Pleasure Cove, but we could expand the reach to the rest o
f the state.” She sighed in response to his unconvinced expression. “Are you saying North Carolina doesn’t have the talent to pull this off?”
“Not at all. There are a wide range of talented acts here in the state. But it wouldn’t have the kind of draw the LA music scene does. We can integrate local acts, maybe have them featured at some of the smaller venues, but we’ll need some heavy hitters, including a highly recognizable act to anchor the center stage. I know you’re a California girl, but the East Coast has a totally different vibe.”
“Well, at the event in New York—”
He shook his head, ignoring the frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. “This isn’t New York, either. We’re in the Carolinas. Got no illusion we can beat New York or LA at their own game.”
Bree folded her arms again. “Then exactly what do you suggest?”
Wes smiled, waving a hand toward the beach. “We create a competitive advantage based on what sets North Carolina apart.”
“And exactly what is that?” She stared at him, one eyebrow raised. Ready for battle.
He chuckled. “The fact that you have to ask means a little research is in order.”
“You’re giving me homework?” The tension in her voice spiraled.
“I’m giving us homework.” His brain immediately balked at the statement. He was supposed to be creating distance between him and Bree Evans. Not finding a way to spend more time with her. It was a battle his good sense was losing. He raised his chin. “Spend the next week exploring the state with me.”
Her mouth opened and her eyes widened, but she didn’t speak. She was considering it. That was more than he’d hoped for. So he pressed further.
“We’ll spend a couple of days at the beach, a few in the mountains, and a day or two in Raleigh, Chapel Hill and Charlotte. You’ll get a sense of what makes the state unique.” She narrowed her gaze at him, so he added, “I’m a North Carolina native, but I’ve lived in London most of my life. The state is growing rapidly, and so much has changed. That’s why I need the refresher. What do you say? Do we have a date?”
