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Keith leaned in and his breath teased her hair, sending a quick tug through her middle. She squashed it flat. She’d gone a long time without male companionship—why was she all of a sudden having heated flashes just because a man pressed up against her?
“Why don’t you let me worry about the storm?” he suggested, his voice low and sexy in her ear. “I would tell you if there was a problem.”
Mark lifted the microphone from its stand. “I need some volunteers to play the resort’s version of the Newlywed Game. Two couples. Come on down. You don’t have to be a real couple, just willing to play.”
Cara shot Keith a don’t-you-dare look, which he intercepted with a grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Let some of the others have a chance to pretend to be married.”
Keith sank into a chair and patted the one next to him. Since he’d agreed to keep his volunteering mouth shut—and then sweetened the deal by holding up the half-empty bottle of wine—Cara settled into the front-row seat he’d designated for her.
He inclined his head, nose nearly buried in Cara’s hair again. “That dress looks amazing on you, by the way.”
Cara’s cheeks sparked with heat and she wished she could claim it was the only hot spot on her body. “Go on. You say that to all the girls.”
“You’re the only one I’m talking to. Which is not an accident.”
He slung an arm across the back of her chair as if this was a date or something and she thought long and hard about staring at him with disapproval until he removed it. But the borrowed dress had a low back, and Keith’s sleeve brushed her skin pleasantly. It would probably draw a lot of attention if she made a big deal out of it. So she leaned against his arm and ignored all the heat being generated by his close proximity.
To the surprise of no one, Meredith and Paolo lined up on the small stage at the front of the lounge and took the seats Mark had set up on the left-hand side. Cecelia, one of the maids, and the baby-faced kid who had set up chairs for Cara on the beach hopped up on stage to take the other set of chairs.
Mark handed out dry erase tablets and markers to all the “newlyweds” and asked the wives to answer the first question about their new husbands. “Boxers or briefs?”
The contestants scrawled their answers and when Mark said “Reveal!” the wives flipped their tablets. Cara rolled her eyes at Meredith’s board, which read “Neither” in flowery script with a heart over the i.
Paolo’s dimples popped out as he flipped his board. It read “Nada.”
The crowd clapped and laughed simultaneously. Cecelia and her baby-faced fake husband, who apparently weren’t on intimate terms, had opposite answers, so Meredith and Paolo got a point.
“I’m surprised you allowed everyone a break,” Cara murmured to Keith, tilting her head close, mostly so he could hear her over the crowd noise, but it wasn’t a chore to inhale his masculine scent at the same time.
“It’s hard to crack the whip twenty-four/seven when everyone’s worked like dogs for days and days,” Keith allowed. “We can get back to the grind tomorrow, assuming we can find enough indoor tasks to keep us busy.”
It was an unexpected admission from someone like Keith, who thought the sun rose and set over the bottom line, but she covered her shock. “That’s very humane of you.”
Her sister and the pool boy continued to dominate and won handily, high-fiving each other as Mark pronounced them the champions. Meredith and Paolo strutted across the stage, lording their victory over the poor fake couple who clearly knew each other only in passing.
Cara, meanwhile, had drained her wineglass and for God knew what insane reason, yelled out, “Bet you couldn’t beat a real couple.”
Her sister threw a glance over her shoulder. “Bet there’s not one in this room. Therefore, we are champions, my friends.” Meredith devolved into an obnoxious Queen number, karaoke-style, complete with upraised fingers in the classic V for Victory.
That was the last straw.
“Come on.” Cara didn’t even glance at Keith before she grabbed his hand and hauled him up on stage. To Meredith, she simply said, “You’re going down, honey.”
Thankfully, Keith hadn’t protested Cara’s impulsive move or she’d have looked really silly trying to drag him someplace he didn’t want to go.
“You think?” Her sister smiled as if she had the secret address to a 50-percent-off sale on designer shoes. “Sit down, Paolo. Let’s show them how it’s done.”
