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Yeah, so he was correct and sticking her tongue out at the phone didn’t make the fact that she’d been sitting here yearning to see him any less true.
Cara borrowed Meredith’s bikini, which roughly resembled three postage stamps attached with string, figuring she wouldn’t have it on longer than about five minutes, and belted a trench coat over it.
* * *
Keith tossed his head back against the fiberglass edge of the hot tub, eyes closed as he struggled to drag oxygen into his starved lungs. Cara splashed to her own recovery spot a few feet away, likely as depleted as he was.
The value of high-powered water jets and a daring spirit could not be exaggerated.
“You’re amazing,” he murmured without opening his eyes. “I didn’t really think you’d go for that last suggestion.”
“That’ll teach you to bluff,” she said, her voice low and seductive with a ragged edge that spoke to how vigorously she’d proved that particular point.
“I wasn’t bluffing. Just really, really hopeful.” And he’d been really, really rewarded.
More splashing alerted him that Cara was on the move. He forced an eye open to glimpse her climbing out of the hot tub. “Where are you going? We just got started.”
Why was she always so eager to disappear? Was his company that objectionable when he wasn’t naked?
She chuckled. “I think twice was enough for tonight. Busy day tomorrow.”
“Wait.” He captured her hand before she could take another step and lost his train of thought for a moment. Water rolled from her bare body, running from her hair in long trails down her torso. One drop hung from a pert nipple, begging for his tongue, and he hardened all over again.
Simply looking at her hurt, way down on the inside where it couldn’t be salved.
He should let her leave. The expo would begin in the morning and Regent executives would be on the property before nine. Everything had to go off without a hitch, and his attention to the minutest detail couldn’t be more critical.
“Stay and have a drink instead. One glass of wine. You’ll sleep better, I promise.”
Don’t leave. Not this time. If he could only put his finger on why it mattered so much to him, he’d sure sleep a lot better.
“That’s not what we’re doing here. Right?” A line appeared between her eyebrows as she pulled her hand from his. “That’s what you said. No pressure, no relationship.”
“Oh, come on.” He flashed a quick grin, though it was a little forced. Somehow her constant and immediate exits seemed to be driven from a mixed-up view of his expectations. “No pressure isn’t the same as no conversation. We can hang out and talk. That’s part of what’s making sex so great between us, don’t you think? All the nonnaked time we’ve had thus far?”
In what world did it make sense that he was arguing with her about staying for a drink instead of trying to sweet-talk her clothes off? But here they were, in the alternate universe of Grace Bay, where Cara eagerly bared her body—which he fully appreciated—but balked at anything else.
“I do like your wine.” Indecision rippled across her expression. “One drink?”
“Or two. Who’s counting?”
“I don’t have any clothes.”
As if that was a good argument against it. But his still-scrambled brain couldn’t latch on to a good enough argument for it.
Stay. Because you want to. Because you want more.
But what if he reached out and she slammed him down? Or worse, thought “more” was code for a white picket fence and another diamond ring?
A drink was all he could reasonably offer until...what? He had no idea, but he did know he couldn’t let her go this time.
Muscles protesting, he climbed to his feet and exited the hot tub to wrap her in a giant towel before she could flee again. “Let me dry you off and you can borrow a shirt. Stop being difficult and relax.”
She stood still while he swiped her radiant skin with the terry cloth, but contrary to what he’d expected, she didn’t avert her eyes. Oh no, she watched him unashamedly, gaze fastened squarely on the erection he couldn’t hide.
He should have gotten dressed first, obviously, if he really meant to have a drink, but this was one test of wills he did not intend to lose.
Finally, he got her dry and clad in one of his white button-downs, which did not decrease her attractiveness quotient in the slightest. But he bit his tongue, donned his own clothes and poured her a glass of wine.
