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“Run with me?” he asked casually as if everything was cool between them.
And really, wasn’t it? As he’d said, neither of them was in a good place for a relationship. He knew she was an emotional mess and hadn’t fled screaming into the night. Nor had he tried to take advantage of her while she’d been conflicted and upset.
The invitation to slide beneath the sheets with him had been quite clear. But he’d never pressed her, choosing to let the invitation stand without being obnoxious about it.
Keith had been very gentlemanly last night, all things considered. He deserved a break.
“Sure. I’d like to run with you.”
To his credit, he didn’t make a wisecrack.
They ran in silence through the downpour. The wet sand proved a little more treacherous than Cara had expected so she concentrated on fighting the elements instead of worrying about the mistakes of the past or the nebulous future.
It was a downright therapeutic experience.
After two miles down the beach and two miles back, they slowed near the bridal bower where they’d promised to love, honor and cherish in the fake wedding.
“What’s on your agenda for today?” Cara asked, suddenly reluctant to end what had been a nice way to start the day. Rain notwithstanding.
And to be honest, she couldn’t get last night’s conversation out of her mind. If he wasn’t interested only in sex, what was he interested in?
“I’m personally inspecting each hotel room. If yours is any indication, they’re not ready for public consumption, and the majority of the guests are due tomorrow for the start of the expo.”
“That’s a big task, isn’t it?” There had to be over five hundred rooms on the resort grounds, and her building still didn’t have a working elevator.
He smiled slightly. “All my tasks are huge. Staving off Tropical Storm Mark being the insurmountable one.”
She’d been trying to convince herself the rain was normal for this time of year and nothing to worry about, but something about his tone struck her. “We’re going to get hit, aren’t we?”
Keith swiped rain off his face in a deliberate gesture. “I think you should revise that to present tense instead of future.”
The sound of dismay rose up in Cara’s throat before she could stop it. “What? Can we weather the storm here on the island? I mean, is it safe?”
Lord above, they were on an island during a tropical storm. Every hurricane documentary she’d ever watched on the Weather Channel flashed through her mind in full color, including what 120-mile-an-hour winds could do to a building, not to mention the flooding.
Why hadn’t they evacuated the island when there was still a chance of getting out?
“Safer than the rickety huts the island residents live in. The brunt of the storm is still a hundred miles away and may still miss us in the end. We should be fine here on the west side of the island. Maybe we’ll lose power for a few hours.” He shrugged. “The show must go on.”
He seemed nonchalant about it, so Cara tried to relax. After all, he was the one with the NOAA app. There must not be imminent danger, right? She chewed on a fingernail and immediately yanked it out of her mouth. Destroying her manicure would not cause the storm to veer away. She’d have to find another way to de-stress.
“Let me help you inspect the rooms,” she volunteered impulsively.
There was no way Cara could sit around and nervously wait to be battered by a tropical storm. Meredith could stay in the hotel room and do alterations all day if the weather was only going to get worse.
He eyeballed her. “Don’t you have stuff to do?”
“Yeah, but I’m the boss.” She liked the sound of that. It was the first time she’d ever thought of herself as such. But when you signed all the checks, what other title could you give yourself? “That means I can order my lackeys to do the work while I...go do other work.”
“I’ll take all the help I can get, then. Meet me in the lobby in forty-five minutes?”
“Sure.” Plenty of time. It wasn’t as if she planned to get all dressed up to tramp around in the rain. She might not even take a shower.
She ended up just changing clothes and shoving a packaged muffin into her mouth for breakfast. Her sister groused about being forced to do slave labor while Cara jetted off to hang out with Keith and then drank her coffee with a sulky pout. But by the time Cara was ready to leave, Meredith had a sewing kit in her hand.
Cara hid a smile. The reason her design business had grown so successful so fast was because she genuinely valued the place she’d created for herself—and the other girls in her employ. Meredith included. It was the best kind of pseudo-family because they’d all chosen to be in it.
