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That was better than a wedding of her own any day. Mostly.
When Meredith exited the bathroom after the longest shower on record, she had her phone in hand. “Paolo just texted me that everyone’s in the Caribbean Lounge blowing off steam. Hans threw together a buffet and Keith unlocked the liquor cabinet. Get dressed and come on.”
“I’m busy.” It was a little too soon to be in Keith’s orbit again, especially while in the same galaxy as the rest of the staff, who’d witnessed the scorching kiss their boss had laid on her. The embarrassment over falling so heavily into the playacting hadn’t quite faded yet.
“No, you’re in sore need of fun, alcohol and sex. All three are within your reach, honey.” Meredith slipped into a skin-colored dress that hit her midthigh and made her look as if she should be on the arm of a Grammy-nominee as he walked the red carpet. “Or you can just come eat. You can sulk later. Don’t make me go by myself.”
“There’s zero danger of you being by yourself in that dress.”
Her sister shot a treacherous smile over her shoulder. “I brought that Balenciaga dress that you like. I’ll let you wear it, even though you were so mean about the shoes earlier.”
Cara’s heart twisted. Meredith was a good sister and all Cara had done was snipe at her. Besides, Meredith had been oh so correct—it wasn’t her fault Keith and Cara weren’t a good mix. “Thanks. I’ll come with you. And wear the dress.”
The smirk on Meredith’s face didn’t faze her. Cara was used to letting her sister get her way. In their relationship, that’s what love looked like.
The rain hadn’t let up and it took a while to get across the resort while sharing a very small umbrella. By the time the sisters arrived, the party was in full swing.
As promised, it did indeed seem as if everyone had come. Mary sat at a four-top laughing with a few of the maids, and Holly, who still looked like a runway model even when off the clock, chatted with the services manager at a mahogany bar near the far wall.
Paolo bounded over, muscles rippling underneath a skintight shirt, with two drinks in hand. He handed one to Meredith with an apologetic glance at Cara’s empty hand. No big deal. Cara didn’t need a pool boy to bring her a drink.
Her sister sipped the frothy pink concoction and smiled the smile she used to humor people. “Thanks, I adore Cosmopolitans.”
Martinis, the drier the better, were Meredith’s vice of choice. She hadn’t touched a drink with an umbrella since a weekend in Vegas that Meredith still refused to talk about.
“For you.”
Cara whirled to face the speaker and there was he-who-must-not-be-named himself, holding a wineglass full of deep red liquid. She accepted the goblet from Keith with a nod of thanks, because her stupid heart had just tangled up her tongue too much to talk, and sipped.
God, it was an exquisite cab that swirled through her mouth like a taste of heaven.
“You’re serving this to guests?” she asked when she’d stopped worshipping the wine long enough to speak. This was high-quality, exorbitantly expensive stuff, which he no doubt knew that she’d recognize.
“Only the ones in the honeymoon suite.” He clinked his glass to hers. “I tried to tell you you’d appreciate checking it out with me, but your mind went straight to the gutter. Shame.”
“Yeah, but I still got a glass, so...” She swallowed some more to see if it cooled her suddenly hot throat.
She hadn’t really been jealous of Meredith’s uncomplicated fling with Paolo. Not a whole lot anyway. But all at once, it seemed as though Cara might have the better deal. There was something to be said for having the attention of a man who noticed details, and Keith rarely missed one.
Maybe she should thank Meredith for goading her into joining the party instead of sulking in her room—as her sister put it—which hadn’t been too far off. And sulking for what? Because a yummy man kissed her? It was time to relax and stop worrying so much about Keith messing up her plans.
The entertainment director clapped his hands and drew everyone’s attention. As he was unfortunately named Mark, someone had apparently thought it appropriate to make him a paper crown with the word Hurricane written on it and then crossed out with a large X.
“What’s that about?” Cara whispered to Keith. “Is the tropical storm the reason it’s raining?”
She hadn’t seen a weather report lately, but foreboding gripped her all at once. The expo couldn’t go on if the storm hit the island. Could it?
