Tempting Isabel (Paradise South #1)

by Rissa Brahm

  At that point, she just wanted to blurt out the truth, rip the bandage off, let him have the real, psycho reason she couldn’t be with him, that she had to protect him…from her. And she had to protect her heart from yet another shattering loss.

  But no, she couldn’t. She had to suffer through to the end of the wedding in his presence, and she wouldn’t be able to manage if he looked at her in any other way than the way he did right now. Those savage emerald eyes consuming her soul, her heart, her entire being.

  And now he just waited. While she spun and whirled in thought and reason, he let the thick silence speak for itself, a true artist in salesmanship and negotiation, damn him.

  But she could think of nothing—no next valid argument came to her bewildered mind. “Shit, I didn’t realize the time…the rehearsal dinner!” She collected her purse and pushed her chair back. “You know this kind of discussion, it’s really too…too big to rush. Rain check for after the wedding,” she said with zero eye contact because she just couldn’t handle seeing the expression on his face.

  *

  Zack cracked a smile and said, “Hold it!”

  And that paused Isabel in her seat as if she were a child in trouble. He definitely wasn’t letting her off that easy. After all, he still held her hand captive.

  He couldn’t believe how, with each offer he put out there, she’d put up another roadblock. But he saw through each one. Each one of her walls was made of soft white sand, and once he stepped back, he could see the entire sandcastle. All it needed was a big wave to roll in and wash it away. And he didn’t mind being the very tidal wave to do it.

  He mulled over the clues; her one-night rule, her proud exterior with the insecure center, the scars. She was afraid, and it didn’t even matter why.

  Because he wasn’t unafraid of a stable, committed relationship and its risk of shattering. He was just as fucking terrified. A terrific life, a terrific love. With Isabel, his jumbled, tightening network of nerves was what made it all so heart-pumping, mouth-watering, and just plain worth it. Raw reality with his angel, Isabel. It was what he had been missing in his lofty, sugarcoated, loveless life.

  “I really have got to go, Zack.” She gave him an exhausted, defeated look with her tired eyes. He’d forgotten just how late they’d been out last night on the boardwalk together. And the night before that.

  But he’d torture her just a bit more. He had to. With his free hand, he took another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. He watched her eyes follow the spoon as it went in and then out and as he licked it clean.

  Then he stood up. She tilted her head in confusion as he still held her gaze and her hand.

  He moved toward her in a flash…

  …and kissed her.

  Now holding her captive with his mouth, his left hand released her hand to slide up her soft cheek, then back to cradle her head at the nape of her neck. He felt her body’s surrender as he lulled and hypnotized her with his gentle assault. He knew that if it weren’t for his consuming kiss, her protest would have been loud and strong. But her body alone gave no fight. His passionate demonstration continued until some of the children in the ice cream shop began to giggle and clap.

  He let her go slowly, gently, reluctantly. He stood up and smiled down at the serene beauty, her lips parted as if still in mid-kiss, while her lids lingered over her deep golden eyes, fluttering lightly as if she were locked in a dream. He knew he was. Locked and hoping never to wake from it.

  But whispers and little pointed fingers in his peripheral dragged him back to the real world.

  He nodded at his audience to appease and shush them, then took his angel’s hand in his. “Thank you, Isabel, for meeting me again. I’ll see you this evening. I can’t wait.” Then he left her there.

  Yes, he left her.

  *

  Looking back at her through the shop window, at her flushed cheeks, wide eyes and frozen pose in the ice cream shop’s neon orange seat, he smiled. She shook her head to herself, as if attempting to get rid of the shock he’d just sent through her. She kept her head down while she collected her purse, then pushed herself back from the table. Before she stood up, Zack watched her take a deep inward breath, which filled her chest, making her glorious breasts rise. She licked her lips, hopefully tasting Zack’s lingering mint chocolate chip ice cream he’d left there during his penetrating kiss.

  He left the window then. Getting into his car, his heart melted for her and her vulnerability. He wouldn’t relent though, not until she melted fully and forever into him.

  CHAPTER 29

  Unless his name was Zack James, no man would make her radar. She was in so deep, she could hardly function.

  Rehearsal dinner, Isabel. Get your shit together!

  She spotted him across the banquet hall on line at the bar, looking amazing, just classy as hell. There was a touch of irritation in his evergreen eyes, the maid of honor chatting his ear off. Isabel thought the scene so funny, she laughed out loud, yes, to the confusion of the guests in her vicinity. She smoothed her flowing yellow dress down her legs with heated cheeks and a pleasant smile and continued with the night’s tasks as best she could. Damn hard to do since she was still reeling from that afternoon’s kiss.

  Focus. Go check on the first course. Grinning politely, she weaved through tables of mingling guests, making her way to the service hallway, which led back to the main banquet kitchen.

  *

  Footsteps clipped behind Isabel, mimicking the rhythm of her low heels.

  Always cautious, always ready, she mentally prepared for action, as taught to her by Antonio.

  She didn’t look back, she just increased her pace.

  But so did the pursuing footsteps.

  *

  A hand grabbed her shoulder.

  Isabel threw a backhand blow to the face…

  …but Zack caught her wrist before her fist made contact, and he spun her around.

  “Jesus you scared the hell out of me!” But desire leapt in to steal away her anger as he slid his hand down her forearm, caressing it until he reached her elbow, then lowered her arm to her side.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you. I even said your name.”

  She didn’t remember hearing anyone saying anything, but then again, the pulsing panic reverberating in her head might’ve trumped all. God, Roberto’s recent behavior really had her on high alert.

  She reset her nerves with a deep breath. “I didn’t hear you but, either way, Zack, you shouldn’t be back here.” Even though her body screamed otherwise, as the dry, electrifying heat of his touch made her damp under her dress. Damn him. And then, completely ignoring her comment, his hand, still cuffing her arm, glided up slowly to her shoulder, which he circled lightly with his fingertips, sending chills through her. Her back arched suddenly in response, the reaction was out of her control entirely.

  “Here.” With his other hand, Zack took a white lily from his bulging front pocket and slid it behind her ear. “Wear this. You said it was your favorite flower.”

  Coño! She really couldn’t take this right now, but as that thought entered, his warm, igniting touch left her shoulder. It was replaced by an instant, icy void, as if she had been unplugged from the sun. Then all of a sudden, her brain could function, registering that he had already started back down the long corridor to resume his role as best man.

  She was one part angry at the contact he’d made, too damn risky, while another part of her was in love with his follow-up attention after he had left her vibrating at the ice cream shop that afternoon.

  And he’d remembered the lily.

  So cliché, but so damn sweet it pained her heart. She forced her feet toward the main kitchen as originally planned before becoming a puddle of sap there on the cold cement floor.

  *

  Isabel made her rounds, from the stage for a mic check to the bar for wine levels. She sent a message to the kitchen through the headwaiter that it was time for dinner service and then positioned
herself in the grand ballroom so she could make eye contact with the bride.

  And all the while, the damn photographer kept following her around like a puppy. She kept having to redirect him toward the bride, the groom, the other wedding guests, and away from her, for goodness’ sakes.

  She prided herself as being exponentially more diligent than most coordinators. Not just for career advancement, but because the better an event was planned and prepared, the less chance there was for her inevitable missteps, trip-ups, and fallouts. She made it a rule to never handle any object directly. She hired a slightly larger crew than most of Lucinda’s planners so she could reduce breakage and just do the puppet mastery from behind the scenes, be the brain of the operation.

  And usually she’d run everything through her earpiece, communicating to each of the major stations, but Lucinda had taken them all for her celebrity affair in Sayulita without mentioning it. She’d definitely have Raquel get new sets in the morning for the ceremony. For now she was just glad she wore the most functional low heels she had in her closet and hoped to hell not to set the place on fire as she scurried—smoothly, of course—from station to station.

  And on top of it all, she had to deal with the distraction of all distractions, sitting smack in the center of the room, following her every move with those magnanimous eyes. Zack.

  Add a hurdle for fun, why don’t you? Really, thanks! Speaking to Fate used to make her feel insane, but now it was just luck she kept the conversation inside her own head.

  And she tried like hell to keep her eyes off Zack, which made them wander his direction all the more. Mesmerized, she’d glance then shift her gaze away as quick as her feet moved her around the room. But each time she’d force her eyes off him, they’d land right on Stephanie Rine, who sat as close as humanly possible to Zack, just short of a lap dance distance, for Christ’s sakes.

  But right at this moment, Zack was alone, just him and his full glass of something, which he circled with his index finger, around and around, obviously deep in thought. And the thought of that finger on her now throbbing bud shocked and embarrassed her as if the room could read her mind.

  She shook her head, eyes closed to remove the image, and turned toward her next stop, the photographer on the far side of the ballroom, who had finally left her alone, but was now flirting with the bar back girl and missing the entire party altogether.

  She took a step in the photographer’s direction, and quick reflexes just barely prevented a direct collision into Stephanie Rine. Isabel’s hand flew to her pounding chest in shock.

  “Ah, Jezebel, I wanted to—”

  “Isabel, Stephanie. My name’s Isabel.” Fluster turned to immediate annoyance. Only two more days of this one.

  “Yes, right. Well, I wanted to check in on…on…” Stephanie’s nose crinkled, and as if waiting for something, the woman froze there, then scrunched her nose more.

  “What did you need to check on, Stephanie?” Isabel really didn’t have time to stand around waiting for the woman to complete her dramatic build up to a damn sneeze, especially as she watched the photographer head to the restroom with only two minutes before the pre-wedding speeches. “Is it about the adjustments to your dress? Because they’re done, and it was delivered to your room two hours ago.” Giving an inaccurate dress size was just not okay, Stephanie having made extra and unnecessary work for both Isabel and the seamstress.

  “No!” Stephanie spat defensively. “No. The details for…for—”

  A loud exploding sneeze interrupted the inherently bitchy tone.

  A silence fell over the surrounding guests as they searched the room for the source of the explosion.

  Stephanie covered her nose, then got thrown into an attack of more uncontrollable sneezes. When she looked up at Isabel, her eyes were bloodshot, inflamed, and tearing.

  “The ladies’ room is that way.” Isabel turned to point, and when she twisted, Stephanie shrieked then snatched the white lily from Isabel’s hair, throwing it emphatically to the floor.

  “I’m allergic to lilies! Why do you have a lily in your hair, Jezebel? Didn’t you read the details of the bride and her family in your stupid questionnaires?” The woman scoffed. “You did this on purpose! You are—”

  But another sneezing fit interrupted the rant.

  Isabel didn’t forget details related to her events, but had she missed this one? An allergy? The maid of honor’s allergy? She knew of the best man’s nut allergy, but there were no others. She was sure.

  Or was she?

  Shit! She needed to get access to the file on her tablet, which was in her purse. To check. To be absolutely positive, even though, again, she never got this level detail wrong! But still she’d double check. She had been so distracted, after all. More than ever before. Between Roberto and this event—so much riding on it! And of course, Zack.

  She swallowed back a knot of anxiety. Be calm, Isabel.

  Okay. First, Stephanie Rine would be fine, she knew that.

  But as for Isabel’s pride, she hated to imagine the maid of honor’s look, and Annette Rine’s for that matter, if Isabel had missed this.

  Thankfully though, she had no concerns regarding her position with Lucinda’s company. Her boss had heard all about the pseudo-deep drama queen and would no doubt support Isabel, even if she had missed this vital detail. Yeah, Isabel was as sure of that as she was sure that she hadn’t missed anything at all…

  Come on, a lily allergy? The MOH of her biggest gig ever? And her favorite flower, to boot? She’d even dealt with that crazy bride a month ago who’d tried to get her lily-allergic mother-in-law sick—until Isabel put her foot down. No, she’d have caught this in the Rine/James questionnaires. For certain.

  Rapid-fire sneezes brought Isabel back to the situation. Diffuse then discovery. She took Stephanie’s elbow, leading her toward the restroom. “No!” Stephanie screamed in between sneezes, and shooed Isabel away.

  Fine. So after she watched Stephanie sneeze herself to the ladies’ room, hunched over and whimpering the entire way, Isabel speed-walked through the ballroom to the back corridor to her tablet.

  And as she scurried—smoothly, with composure—she felt Zack’s eyes from across the room. She glanced at him over her shoulder. She was sure he had no idea what was going on, but he mouthed the words, “Are you okay?” She didn’t have time to respond, though, and continued through the service door with his concerned-yet-searing gaze at her back.

  *

  He hadn’t been able to stop staring at her. She moved quickly, and he watched her every step and interaction. He watched all the waiters, techs, and bartenders eat right out of her hands.

  And she had kept the lily right where he had placed it behind her ear. His insides warmed with that tiny morsel of confirmation, however meaningless. She looked like an exotic princess, the Princess of Puerto Vallarta, he mused. He didn’t even care anymore how sentimental and cheesy he’d become. It felt too damn good.

  At the same time, he was enjoying the Darren and Amy show. His brother was such the man. Darren smothered and doted on Amy like they wouldn’t see each other every day for the rest of their lives. Every day. The rest of their lives.

  God, the rest of their lives…but yes! For Zack, with Isabel…hell, yes!

  Then from his peripheral, a strange exchange between Isabel and Stephanie caught his attention, ending with Isabel’s marginally calm dash across the banquet room floor. Her expression as she passed was wide-eyed, edged with worry. He didn’t think she ever got flustered. She hardly broke a sweat from what he’d seen of her in wedding planner mode. Something was up. He mouthed a message to her, but when he didn’t get a response back, he got up to follow her…again. Stalk much, Zack? He didn’t care, he wanted to be sure she was alright. He made sure no one saw him slip through the side door. But when he couldn’t find her in the long passageway, he decided to get back. He was sure whatever drama involving Stephanie was still unfolding. He knew enough about the maid of ho
nor to expect a long-winded saga made out of nothing.

  *

  Sneaking back in through the same door, he saw Annette Rine and Amy sitting next to Stephanie. Amy was patting her sister’s hand while Annette melodramatically wiped her eldest daughter’s red and swollen eyes.

  Zack approached.

  “What happened? Everything alright?” he asked, damn well knowing the answer.

  “That Jezebel…” Stephanie started then sneezed, causing Zack to step back a few feet. “I told Mother we should have fought for Lucinda to manage things!”

  “The wedding planner girl had a flower in her hair that my daughter is highly allergic to. I’m sure it was on purpose…envy is a very dangerous thing!” Annette Rine touted for her older daughter.

  “Mother, Isabel would never do anything to hurt anyone!” Amy chimed in.

  Zack cleared his throat. “Ladies, let’s focus on getting Stephanie some—”

  “Help is here,” came a quick and confident voice over his shoulder. His angel’s voice. “Excuse me, please. I have Dr. Ortega here to attend to the maid of honor. If we can step out of the Banquet Hall to the seating area?” And there was the controlling goddess Zack had longed for the entire night.

  Or his entire life.

  “My nephew Andrew is an American doctor. Get him instead,” Annette Rine demanded.

  “Now, Annette—” Zack began, but the stubborn old bag had already started scanning the room for her nephew.

  “Dr. Ortega has his clinic in this resort, and his medical bag is right here with him.” Isabel pointed to the man’s side. “In the interest of time…,” she continued, looking at Amy for support.

  Amy touched her mother’s shoulder and with a firm look, forced Annette to concede.

  Hell yes! Zack was glad to see Amy taking matters into her own hands.

  Zack helped Stephanie to her feet, and as she walked with Zack and the doctor out of the grand ballroom, Stephanie glared behind her in Isabel’s direction.

  And Zack looked back at Isabel, too, with a subtle smile and a supportive wink.

  *