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And then, I start to panic. My scalp tingles and my whole-body flushes hot. God, he could tell Marcel. And then I’d lose my children. My heart constricts. I make it to the toilet right before I throw up.
I strip, turn on the shower, and climb in. I sit on the floor, my knees drawn up to my chin, and let the hard pricks of cold water soothe me. As the water heats up and my pulse slows down, my panic turns to frustration. When I can breathe again, I force myself to think.
There’s only one way Hayes knows about us, and he’s snoring in my bed.
Whether he told him or said enough so Hayes could guess, doesn’t matter.
I was deluding myself thinking we could carry on any semblance of a relationship after we left this resort. Even if I leave Marcel, there’s too much shit in our way. And friendship…is laughable.
I’d been heartsick when I saw him laughing with those girls in their tent that first night on the island. And Stone…well, he may have outgrown stabbing people, but that possessive, determined spirit is still there. And, right now, the thought of being possessed by anyone, when I’m just on the cusp of finding myself, terrifies me.
I need to put a period at the end of this sentence.
Today.
I step out of the shower, call down to the salon and pull rank to get an appointment. I gaze at myself in the mirror. Freckles spangle the bridge of my nose. My hair is a wild cloud of curls and coils, some of them streaked by the sun. I love the way I look right now. But, like everything else that feels good about this trip, its time has come to an end.
I turn away from my reflection and start getting ready.
Making an Entrance
Stone
“What the hell are you looking at?’ Dare asks. I drag my eyes away from the entrance of the restaurant and throw my napkin at his scowling face.
“Not you, so why are you worried about it?” I snap.
“Boys, behave.” Hetty, one of Hayes’ new neighbors in Rivers Wilde, and Gigi’s plus one, gives us a grandmotherly glare.
We all mumble apologies, and I turn back to watch the door.
When I woke, there was a note that read, “See you at brunch,” on the pillow where her head should have been.
I was confused until I got here and saw her name on one of the place cards. Confidence was bursting with excitement as she told me how they’d run into her and that Hayes went up to invite her this morning. My stomach clenched so hard I thought I’d be sick.
He came to her room this morning?
I glance at Hayes and he smiles briefly and turns his attention back to Gigi. He’s been nothing but relaxed and hasn’t mentioned her, or our conversation, at all. But Hayes is the master of hiding his emotions, so that doesn’t make me feel any better.
“Oh, my damn … Regan Landel is here?” Beau asks in an overly interested voice. I turn to him and follow his rapt gaze to the entrance that leads in from the beach.
The version of Regan that strides into the dining room is one I’ve never seen in person.
Her hair is blown straight and shines like polished sable when she moves. Her skin glows with something more than the sun kissed warmth I got used to seeing at the beach.
She’s dressed in an all-white floor length dress that was made to be worn by her. Two diamond shaped pieces of fabric cover each of her plump breasts, drape over her shoulders and meet at the nape of her neck in an oversized bow that sits on her left shoulder.
The deep “v” created by the scant bodice exposes the long column of her throat and the smooth, sun browned valley of skin between her breasts all the way to right above her belly button. The skirt has twin slits that reveal her legs from toe to damn near the top of her hip with every step she takes in her blush pink, open toe shoes. The heels are needle thin and so high that her lithe and graceful frame is nearly as tall as I am.
Beau lets out a low whistle of appreciation and I grit my teeth. “You know I’d never even think about touching another woman, but she is fucking hot, man. Even her toes are perfect. God, I wish I was a billionaire. I’d lay it at her feet for just one night of—"
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I snap, uncaring that I sound like a fucking cave man.
Beau looks at me askance and then bursts out laughing. “Ohhh, I forgot you had a thing for her.”
“I was ten,” I snap and look back at my phone. And what I felt then is a mere star, compared to the galaxy of emotions that make up the thing I have for her now.
“Was she always a looker?” Beau asks never taking his hungry eyes from Regan. I want to tell him she’s mine. That he can’t look at her like that.
