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“Shut up. I’m doing my alterations on the beach. The waves are relaxing, aren’t they?” Cara gathered her sewing kit and folded the dress into a bag while Meredith snickered through dumping half a sugar refinery into her coffee.
“Then I’m doing my alterations at the pool. Maybe Paolo will be back, now that your boyfriend’s not there to scare him off. Don’t wait up,” Meredith called after Cara as she exited their hotel room.
The beach was deserted. Everyone currently staying at the resort had a behind-the-scenes role in the bridal expo. The real guests were the wedding professionals who would arrive for the grand opening at the end of the week and then attend the expo featuring the latest wedding trends.
Cara had her pick of beach loungers and arranged a plastic tarp over several to lay out the dress, careful to keep it away from the sand, though the entire expo would take place on the beach. Sand was inevitable. The alterations weren’t extensive but she’d handmade all her dresses and every stitch had to be redone carefully. No sewing machine quick fixes for Cara Chandler-Harris Designs.
If the bridal expo worked to increase business as she planned, sewing machines would be a necessary part of her future. Standing orders meant she couldn’t take a month to make one dress any longer. Cara threaded a needle and reminded herself she welcomed the influx of business and the opportunity, though Meredith had to convince her of it daily.
This was Cara’s life now. She stabbed the needle through the silk spread out over her lap. Weddings were for other women, not her, regardless of how much she wished otherwise. Cara couldn’t imagine trusting a man enough to fall in love, let alone marry him. Every day, she expected to wake up and realize she’d gotten over her caution.
Hadn’t happened yet. Until then, she’d sew. The surf crashed a few feet away and the cry of gulls floated on a light afternoon breeze. Her life did not suck. She’d found a way to be content instead of deliriously happy, and it was enough.
Sometime later, a shadow fell over the tiny new stitches. Cara glanced up and cursed her stupid quivery heart for lurching even a little bit over the sight of Keith. But sweet Jesus did that man fill out a suit, and he had charm and wit to spare. Once upon a time, she’d thoroughly enjoyed his company.
“Busy?” he asked.
“Nah. I’m working on my tan.”
“Sorry, that was a stupid question.” He sat without invitation on the next lounger, their knees nearly touching, and his eyes trained on her bare feet. “Is your ankle still bothering you?”
“Geez. That was a lame excuse to talk to me the first twelve times. What’s really going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
He grinned and her polarized sunglasses did nothing to protect her from the dazzle. “Do I need an excuse to talk to you?”
“No, you need to take a number. Can’t you see how popular I am?” She waved at the empty beach. “Sandals and sand don’t mix, ironically enough. That’s why I’m barefoot. Stop asking me about my ankle.”
Weakness in any form bothered her, especially around Keith, who could scent weakness with the precision of a homing device. Meredith’s shark scenario was sweet, but ineffective. Sharks never ate their own kind.
She sighed. Keith wasn’t quite the heartless bastard she’d been telling herself for two years. She’d have to stop thinking of him as one.
“Then I’ll go with a different excuse. Have dinner with me.”
She couldn’t help it. Laughter bubbled out before she could choke it back. “No, really. What do you want?”
“That is what I want. But in lieu of that, I’ll settle for your advice. The resort wedding coordinator quit with no notice. Her first task was to organize a mock wedding for the expo, and it’s in shambles. Is there any way you could walk through the plans with one of the management staff?”
She stared at Keith’s inscrutable expression. “You want my help?”
“Desperately and I’m not afraid to beg. I’d compensate you for your time.”
Her soul thrilled a little at the thought of a big bucket of masculinity like Keith on his knees, begging. She was five-eight, but even in heels, she never got to be taller than him.
“Money’s not the object of my hesitation. It’s more that you’re asking me for a favor.” That brought her up short. He’d owe her. Big-time. And she’d already started thinking of ways to collect, starting with a brand-new fantasy involving Keith and his knees. “Why would you ask me, out of all the people here?”
