Tempting Isabel (Paradise South #1)

by Rissa Brahm

  The lavender dressed bridesmaids followed, escorted by the grinning groomsmen.

  Stephanie made her way down the aisle next, still swollen and red around the eyes, shaded by a white wide-brimmed hat and perfectly overshadowed by the young ring bearer and the adorable flower girl. Damn, Isabel was good.

  Zack prepared himself as he was up next to the pulpit, coming in from the side, just preceding the groom.

  *

  Isabel watched Stephanie promenade down the aisle. She had, of course, come prepared for a maid of honor meltdown. She’d tossed Stephanie the large almost elegant white sunhat then gently nudged her through the entrance of the church hall. The flower girl and ring bearer led the way as planned.

  Isabel cued her assistant with a low directive through her earpiece. “Best man, go. Groom, go.”

  She intentionally kept her attention on the bride, and only on the bride.

  Isabel nodded at Amy, who she thought looked truly beautiful. She signaled to Daniel Rine, who gave his youngest daughter, Amy Elizabeth Rine, his arm.

  While Amy’s father beamed warmly at his daughter, Isabel smiled, seeing Amy’s sharp focus on Darren at the end of the long aisle

  This part, always this part, warmed and chilled Isabel to her depths.

  But against her better judgment, masochistic Isabel followed Amy’s gaze. And seeing the best man’s glowing eyes of emerald at the end of the aisle—it was more bone-chilling and heart-smashing than any and all of her other weddings combined.

  *

  A successful ceremony. Now, the ecstatic bride and thrilled groom were ready to party. And Isabel was ready to make their celebration everything they’d hoped for, a grand finale for them, which would double as a giant relief to her. She could now see the light at the end of the tunnel, nearly free from the torment of being in such close proximity to the magnanimous Zachary James while never being able to have him.

  She moved to the palapa bar where the beautifully decorated expanse of patio met the white-as-snow sand. Raquel was doing all of the scurrying for her, so she could afford a moment’s peace to just observe.

  Everyone was moving. Dancing, laughing, eating, schmoozing, drinking; all with the white sandy beach, the rolling blue tide, and the glorious Vallarta sunset as the incomparable backdrop.

  Amy and Darren whirled around the dance floor, as did Zack, her ever-distraction, with his mother, Elaine, in his arms, both dripping with joy. The kindness in Zack’s face and the authentic sweetness of his embrace made Isabel’s chest clamp down hard, on the brink of an utter and total breakdown, threatening tears, lip quiver and all. She swallowed it back and sighed, deciding immediately to watch any other aspect of the party, even the pathetic drink-fest had by Annette and Stephanie Rine in a far off corner, than to torture herself further with Zack in view.

  Check on the chef, Isabel. Check on dinner. And maybe grab a drink for yourself while you’re at it.

  *

  After touching base with Chef Diego, and downing a quick glass of fluid chill-the-hell-out, she returned to the party right when the best man began clinking his glass for everyone’s attention.

  The toast.

  “My kid brother, Darren James, everyone. Isn’t he just such the man?” Zack began.

  Isabel watched him handle the crowd, teasing his brother lovingly while putting his new sister-in-law on the highest of pedestals, then knocking Darren down some more, all with flare, wit, humor, and charm, like the charm he’d used on her the afternoon they’d met, albeit slightly less suave. But like a true showman, he finished to a standing ovation.

  After the rest of the toasts, dinner was served.

  Then something intriguing. She watched Zack head over to where Bennet James was sitting. He interrupted his father deep in thought. The man’s sullen eyes lit up as his oldest son extended his hand to shake then sat down next to him.

  And in silence, they ate together.

  A lightness filled her chest. She was proud of him. God, Zack James was a much bigger man than she even knew. A really wonderful man. But beyond her happiness for Zack and his victory over his anger-saturated past, Isabel felt a bit hollow inside. And it was distinctly different than the usual protective numbness that pervaded her view. She found herself wanting to go to him, to share in his happiness like they had won a battle together, because really, they had. She was an integral part of this landmark in time for him.

  She imagined going over there, sliding her hand across the wide breadth of his back, pulling up a chair tight to his, kissing him on his perfectly rough cheek, and sitting with him, being with him. Together they would make meaningless small talk with his father, the man who had wounded Zack so deeply. But together they had turned Bennet James’ reappearance into a source of true catharsis.

  But no, she of course couldn’t do any of that. It was far beyond the scope of her work, and that was all she could ever be to Zack James—his brother’s damn wedding planner.

  CHAPTER 38

  The party ended and Zack helped get his very buzzed and truly blissed-out brother to his room to change, grab his luggage, and go. The honeymoon cruise was due to leave within the hour. He got Darren to the lobby and into Antonio’s safe hands in plenty of time. He man-squeezed his baby brother, whispered a few words of wisdom, and headed back to his room, drunk with liquor, happiness and exhaustion.

  He called the elevator. A chime announced its arrival. The doors slid open with a hydraulic hiss. And there was Stephanie Rine, quite seriously posing against the back wall of the car, and maybe also using the back rail for support to keep herself upright? Either way, this was not cool.

  Fuck. He couldn’t avoid entering at that point, so he offered her a polite grin and stepped inside the déjà vu of a nightmare. He selected their floor and stood facing forward, trying hard to pretend he was alone. Her heavy breathing filled the small space with the scent of alcohol and impotent breath mints. Zack was well oiled, yes, but Stephanie smelled like a damn distillery.

  It was when they passed the eighteenth floor that her hands reached around to the front of his pants. And at the nineteenth, he pushed her off him with swift yet gentle firmness. And there she stood on the opposite side of the car still maintaining her scorching pseudo-sexy gaze. She began licking her bright pink lips as if he were a piece of prime rib on a platter.

  But then a sick and pained expression appeared on her already swollen face. She was no longer hungry for anything, that was safe to say. She was turning green. Stephanie getting sick in the elevator, or on him as was likely, would surely delay his goal, which was to sleep in his hotel room—alone. Well, alone, but with his angel, if only in his dreams for now.

  Anyway, he chose to stand next to Stephanie, giving her a steady frame of reference until they could exit, thinking it might delay the pending explosion. When the elevator came to a halt, she moaned, and then he led her out and down the hall to her room. Sad, that her being sick was the only way to halt her super-aggressive advances, but it was at least doing the job for Zack. He’d get her to her room and let her pass out safe and sound and yes, alone, too.

  He took her key, unlocked and pushed open the door, and edged her inside. He couldn’t hold her upright and the door open at the same time. He had to let the door shut behind them.

  And once it did, Stephanie sparked up and pushed him to the room’s foyer wall with the weight of her entire body and a whole lot of enthusiasm.

  But he didn’t even have to push her off because within a second’s time she was sprinting to the bathroom to retch her guts out.

  He went to leave then, but as his hand grabbed the door handle, she came back out, her face redder and her eyes more bloodshot. “Heeelp,” she moaned, stumbling with one shoe still on. He groaned as he made his way back across the room to guide her to the bed.

  Then he went to leave.

  “Staaaay?” she whined, patting the spot next to her.

  He ignored her and continued for the door.

  �
��I’ve seen you eying that slut of a wedding planner, Zachary James. I get it, you like ’em dark. So hey, that wetback border-bunny’s just perfect for you!” she slurred.

  Seething, Zack couldn’t see straight, only flashes of fury and a severe need to crush something. But he held it back, kept himself in check, still not wanting to waste a single breath on this wretched woman. He knew all too well that she wasn’t above saying the same bigoted fucking remark sober as she was piss drunk. And despite his light pity for the lonely woman, he took a little too much pleasure in the idea of punching her right in her already swollen face for saying fucking anything derogatory about Isabel. He’d given the woman a pass last night. This was number two.

  Just leave, Zack. His fists clenched, white knuckles visible in the room’s blackness. Leave.

  Nope. “Look, you miserable, pathetic, heartless excuse for a woman! You can’t even know how little you matter, and compared to Isa—”

  Snoring. The horrid woman’s loud, guttural nose noise swallowed up his angel’s name and the rest of his would-be rant. He shook his head. She probably wouldn’t have heard a single syllable through that thick, arrogant skull of hers, anyway. But still, he needed to say what he’d said, at least the start of it… That Stephanie Rine was nothing.

  And his Isabel was everything.

  *

  He couldn’t have left the room fast enough, and once he did, the enveloping nausea was a welcome relief to what he had felt inside Stephanie’s room.

  Stephanie’s door slammed shut behind him. Still boiling, he turned toward his room. And there, bending over across the hall with her full and magnificent backside staring back at him was Isabel, picking up something she’d dropped in front of Amy’s room door. She took his breath and anger and pain away in a single heartbeat.

  Replaced with raw, pure want and heat and joy. For fuck’s sake, how he wanted her. How badly he wanted every loving inch of her.

  And the wedding was finally over.

  CHAPTER 39

  She stood and turned to find Zack staring at her with drunken, ravenous eyes. And then her mind processed which hotel room he had just come out of. It was for certain Stephanie Rine’s.

  While she was still mentally processing what that may have meant, he grabbed her hand tight and pulled her down the hall toward the far off exit sign. She wouldn’t scream, too risky––in that particular hallway especially. But she couldn’t pull away either. His hold was too tight.

  And, damn it all, her body didn’t want him to let go.

  They were moving so quickly, one of her heels flew off midway, and for safety, she kicked off the other. His grasp on her hand was tightening, but she didn’t feel scared. Angry, yes, but she wasn’t scared of him, her savior only twenty-four hours earlier.

  She knew inherently that Zack would never hurt her. It wasn’t like the confidence she’d had in Roberto, because although she still couldn’t believe that Roberto had attacked her—it still being so surreal, a fog really—she’d had that gut feeling telling her over and over that things with her best friend were far from alright. With Zack, though, her gut told her of a completely different type of danger, and it was Zack who was at risk of being hurt. Well, Zack and her heart again.

  There was definite anger in her, though––hot flames, yelling, raging upward from her bare feet. He was risking her career right now with this public scene, and after having just come out of another woman’s room? How drunk could he possibly be?

  But, por Dios, if it were in any other context, how she would have been thrilled and elated at being romantically whisked away by this man.

  What did it matter, though? He obviously couldn’t give a damn about who saw them, and he definitely had just exited the maid of honor’s room.

  And even if those things weren’t issues, her damn curse still was. And always would be.

  But she was stuck, her hand still in a vice grip hold. The only thing she could do was to keep up with him.

  He slammed through the heavy door under the red exit sign, pulling her into the echoing stairwell with him. As the door closed behind them with a hiss then a hard clank, he pushed his body against hers, pressing her firmly into the cold cement wall. Grinding into her with his thick erection, which practically screamed from inside his perfectly fitting tux pants.

  Then he kissed her desperately.

  Isabel put her two hands on each of his strapping shoulders to stop him. “What are you doing, Zack!”

  “The wedding is over,” he delivered in a hot whisper to her ear.

  She pushed him harder to get space enough to look at his face, make him process her words. “We are in the guests’ hallway at the hotel of the wedding! You are fucking risking my position right now!”

  “But no one is coming, Isabel…not yet anyway,” he said, sighing with pleasure. The strong smell of scotch hit her nostrils.

  “Damn it, Zack!” She was just able to slide out from behind his chest’s blockade. “You’ve just come out of some other woman’s hotel room. That woman’s hotel room and you dare touch me? You’re drunk…and disgusting.”

  “Isabel…please. It was Stephanie, she was about to get sick in the elevator, so I got her to her bed,” he said while reaching out for her still.

  Her mind was reeling as she stepped back to avoid any and all contact. Which part of this clusterfuck to tackle first in her whirling mind?

  She wasn’t sure if she should believe his story about Stephanie. A man was a man, and a drunken man was a drunken man, after all. So what if he seemed genuinely annoyed by the woman? She had a willing and attainable cunt, so she couldn’t be counted out.

  The image of Stephanie bouncing up and down on Zack’s muscular thighs, interlinked with him—she just couldn’t stomach it. Her ego wouldn’t allow her to plummet into the same class, or rather the same category, as that classless bitch. If he had stuck his all-loving cock into Stephanie Rine, what would that make Isabel? Yes, just another plaything, played by the master player himself.

  Mind-fucked again. All his talk, the dedication crap and deep connection bullshit. All so laughable, she wanted to cry.

  And, with that, it dawned on her. Despite the sound and feeling of her heart-blood draining out of her, this all might be for the best. Her last card, the one to end the game.

  But playing it would be excruciating.

  Zack spoke in his most serious tone, hard to find in his state, she imagined. “I only want you, Isabel. I only want you.”

  More words. Why the hell was she still standing there? But before she could make another move toward the exit, he grabbed her hip and pulled her back into him, his other hand sliding behind the nape of her neck, forcing her to look at him.

  His gaze…it made her know for that moment, undoubtedly, that what he was saying was true and real. Goddammit. And she hated him for it.

  While she was hating him, he leaned in and kissed her again, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, forcing hers to dance and giving her body another delectable and regrettable taste of him.

  She hated him more.

  She was so irate, but so ignited. She could feel his raw need for her, that sensual power, but it was laced with a tenderness that she so longed for in her lonely world. He and that kiss made everything fade away, and she melted.

  Damn it! She was about to break her rule again, which she would absolutely never forgive herself for, but she wasn’t pulling away. She wasn’t pushing him away, either. She just understood him, empathized with his infinite excitement for her, because she felt the same surge of energy for him, no matter how hard she fought it.

  So she caved. She totally caved and began to return his kiss.

  And his angst and urgency lulled, softened, like she had somehow soothed the savage beast. And at that exact moment, the stairwell’s heavy fire door opened.

  CHAPTER 40

  There stood a disheveled Stephanie Rine, ice bucket in one hand, Isabel’s shoes in the other, accompanied by the radiating stench o
f vodka and vomit.

  Both the bucket and high heels dropped to the floor. Followed by the woman’s jaw.

  “I was lost, looking for the…ice machine.” And with that, Stephanie Rine spun around, and the door thundered shut behind her.

  *

  Isabel was in a haze of a new silent kind of fury. Her blood raged through her. She could not look Zack in the eye. All she could do was grab her shoes and speed down the stairs barefoot with heaving, frantic breath. Down twenty-five flights to the first floor service corridor. And he followed her, despite her evil glares back at him.

  She wanted to get the hell out of there, away from him.

  “She won’t remember a thing,” Zack said, out of breath.

  “She won’t remember catching us together in a mouth-to-mouth lock? Or she won’t remember you fucking her? Which?” Isabel yelled.

  “Back to that, now? Check the fucking hotel cameras, damn it! I was in and out of there in one minute flat. And you know I take way longer than a fucking minute!” He exhaled, shaking his head. “You insult me. Stephanie-fucking-Rine? That bigoted bitch? I mean, God, I have not thought of anyone but you, Isabel. Constantly, you… It’s driving me insane!”

  “You selfish bastard! If you thought of me, cared about me, you’d have just kept your distance like I asked. Her seeing us together like that…it’s an absolute early death to my career! I’m officially screwed—fucking finished! God, Zack, what the hell were you thinking? Never mind. I know. It was your cock…of course! Just, goddamn you!” She said it, but immediately felt a rush of heat to her face, knowing she was guilty of the same lustful lack of control and that it had stopped her from leaving him in the stairwell in the first place.

  And she saw in his face the sharp pain she’d just inflicted.

  He stared blankly at her. “Fuck! Isabel, I’m sorry. I just…want you. God, so bad. I want to be with you. I am sorry for jeopardizing your job—”