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Fire flashed in her gaze and all the tears dried up, which was exactly what he’d been going for. All her unexplained emotions were unsettling. Uncomfortable. Sweat broke out along his neck.
“I’m not. And for your information, I’ve been building a business for the last two years, not brushing up on my Kama Sutra.” She raked him with that fiery gaze. “So what if you get me naked and it’s cataclysmic. What then? What does that really tell you about me—as a person?”
“That you’re someone I want to spend more time with?” he offered and pulled at his tight shirt. She was clearly fishing for something. “And God, Cara. It’s like an oven in here. How do you sleep?”
“Yeah, the air conditioner is still broken. Thanks for noticing.” Her sarcasm only made the neckline of his shirt more constricting. “Don’t you dare use that as an excuse to try to get me into your bed.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he lied. She didn’t have to know that was exactly what he’d been about to suggest.
Still off balance, Keith ran a hand through his own damp hair. He kind of hoped the fantasy in pink never figured out she looked like a model about to pose for the cover of a men’s magazine—but she was killing him. In more ways than one.
He should leave. Tension crackled through the air and he only wished it was just sexual. That he could handle. But the sizzling awareness was laced with something heavy, deeper. And he wasn’t sure what to do with it, not on the heels of the mind-bending kiss on the beach. Not on the heels of playing the newlywed game and recalling Cara underneath him with extreme clarity.
He glanced at the wall behind her, but it did nothing to ease the churn of warring responses beneath his skin. Maybe they should get back to the original subject.
“What’s going on with you? If you took off because Meredith and her stud boy were winning, I wouldn’t put too much credence into it. The only reason she knew Paolo was a black belt is because he uses that as a pickup line. He’s told every available woman on this property that he’s a black belt. Whether he actually is or not is another story.”
The wall was a very boring beige with a framed photo of a shell hanging dead center. Who decorated these rooms—a half-blind eighty-year-old? The decor would have to be updated. Yet another detail he’d missed with his fine-toothed comb because he was too busy chasing after a woman who’d already rejected him countless times over the past couple days.
His gaze drifted to Cara’s face. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t stop looking at her any more than he could stop digging beneath the surface of her “not interested.” Any more than he could stop wanting her.
“I didn’t know he was a black belt.” Cara sniffed, but her expression lost a bit of the edge she’d worn since he walked into her room.
“You’re not available,” he pointed out. “Are you?”
“No! Well, maybe. I don’t know.” She dropped onto the bed as if her legs couldn’t hold her any longer and scrubbed at her cheeks with her palms. “That’s what’s wrong. I don’t know anymore.”
Defeat pulled at her expression and another unsettling wave splashed through his insides.
Talk to me, sweetheart. He wanted to say it. Meant to say it.
But he couldn’t spit out the words.
Cara fingered off her sandals and while she was occupied, Keith risked sitting on the bed next to her. Bad move. Now he was close enough to touch the fantasy in pink and very far from the door, which he should be disappearing through at this moment.
Especially given that he’d just looked down from this emotionally precarious tightrope and nearly lost his balance.
She needed...something, and Keith Mitchell was probably the last person on the planet able to give it to her.
For once, he had no idea how to hit this target.
Six
He had to do something, so he reached out and enfolded her hand in his, cradling it in his lap without speaking.
Her fingers curled around his and his stomach settled. Slightly.
“You don’t have to stick around and watch me fall apart,” she said. “I’m sure there are plenty of other things you’d rather be doing. Go back to the party. I’ll be fine.”
“There’s nothing I’d rather be doing than sitting here with you.” Which seemed to be the God’s honest truth, despite all the heaviness. Otherwise, he would have taken advantage of his close proximity to the door to make his escape, wouldn’t he?
